We're Open All Night

I'm Moving Out.

2012-01-20T11:23:00.001-05:00

A little over a year ago, I re-started this blog with this post. I wasn't sure what the heck I was doing. I was too scared to write in first person. Somehow I felt like all those you's could shield me a little bit. I was trying to be obedient....but I was so afraid to hope. Maybe this could be a thing. Could be my thing. Perhaps this was the start of the fruition of promises that God started to speak into my heart when I was only 12.

Today I am proclaiming it. I believe that the Lord has called me to write. I believe Him today as I did the day He told that awkward almost 7th grader with the terrible, terrible haircut that He wanted my voice. That He would use it for His glory.

In so many ways this is bittersweet. It feels very much like the time I packed all my stuff out of my room from my childhood and into a u-haul because I would not be returning home as Abby France anymore. I would return as Abby Norman, and I would call a new place home, a new person my family. I remember returning to that space one last time, looking around and saying goodbye. It was sad, but it was time. God had new adventures for me elsewhere.

I have grown up as a writer on this blog, like I grew up in that room. I hope I have shed at least some of my awkward beginning. It is a little sad leaving, but it is time. The Lord is calling me elsewhere. I have transferred most of the content here to www.accidentaldevotional.wordpress.com and that is where you can find me from here on out.

Thank you for reading, for commenting, for encouraging me. I hope you will come join me at Accidental Devotional. I am excited to see what the Lord has for me, maybe He has something for you too?

Traveling Mercies

2012-01-17T11:11:00.001-05:00

We travel a lot as a family. Christian and I in the front, the Peanut next to the Rooster next to the dog in the back. It is a tight squeeze, especially with the Christmas haul in the back. The Peanut got a ride on fire truck and a Radio Flier big wheel for Christmas. Grandparenting looks like it will be a lot of fun. Every time we leave a driveway to go up and down interstate 75 we pray for traveling mercies.

When I pray for traveling mercies, I have a certain idea in my head about it. In my world traveling mercies look something like this: kids asleep or playing nicely with each other in the back (yes, I am speaking about children who are not yet old enough to be front facing), dog asleep, no traffic, no inclement weather, no line at the Starbucks/Dunkin Donuts when we pull off, no poopy diapers, minimal bathroom stops and inside warm bathrooms with changing stations for both mom and dad when we need them, we arrive in the destined driveway 15 minutes before the GPS originally said we would. The crazy thing is that I can recall multiple trips that were like this.

The way home from my in-laws started the same way we always start car trips. We prayed for traveling mercies. And then just an hour in to our trip we hit dead stopped traffic outside of Cincinnati. Both kids were asleep in the back and we were not about to let a stopped car wake them up. (Rilla Rilla Rooster Head, hates it when the light turns red.) So we turned around to go the other way, and 45 minutes later we were stuck in another branch of the same stupid traffic jam. What. The. Heck. And when we finally got passed that the going was snowy and so so slow.......So we took a dinner break outside of Elisabeth town.

And wouldn't you know it the there was a Chik-Fil-A, (traveling mercy) that was having kids night so they were fully prepared to help us get the tray to our table and entertain the Peanut (traveling mercy) and it gave the good plows enough time to go before us (traveling mercy). It was slow going but doable until we got outside of Lexington, and we hit a patch of black ice and started fish tailing and Christian started steering and I started praying, and when it was all said and done and no one was hit my 20 month old rear facing Peanut started pointing "see, see, flying see." No, I don't see, but yes I certainly do see, angels of traveling mercy.

We got stopped again outside of Knoxville, and after being dead stopped on the side of the road for over an hour where I tucked the Rooster into her bear suit and walked her up and down and up and down the freezing cold high way to get her to stop screaming until we were finally moving again we decided to stop. This was one of the first times we had the money in our account to not blink about the cost of a hotel. And there was a Red-Roof-Inn, that takes dogs, with one room left. Traveling mercies anyone?

We arrived safely the next day in the beautiful sunshine well rested enough that it wasn't a big deal to bring all of our stuff into the house. In fact there wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed with fresh clothes and a hot shower for all.

And I was struck with the thought in my little house with my little family and my little dog, that we were home safe and sound and showered. That maybe it wasn't the kinds of mercies I was anticipating, but the Lord is merciful all the same. Sometimes God parts the clouds, and we avoid the storm all together by His mercy, and sometimes God takes us through the storm and provides His mercies in the midst of it.

You would think that there I would have learned my lesson, but just a few days later someone lost the paper I needed to go back to work, and I prayed for God's mercy. I was just so sure He was going to show me where I had placed the extra copy I had been hanging on to, I was so sure I would find it in the trash I was digging through. I would find God's mercy and my paper there. Instead, I found His mercy in a mid-wife who wrote whatever note I needed, and an incredibly gracious and understanding department that covered my classes until the moment I walked in the door with that paper. His mercies.....I need to start looking better, I seem to be finding them in the most interesting of places.

Where have you seen God's mercy lately? Surely I can't be the only one discovering them.

Ohhh baby (body).

2012-01-12T12:15:00.001-05:00

I was walking out to the stadium in a sea of fire drill induced students last week. As I rounded the corner I heard it. One girl to another "I am like going to get soooo fat this semester." I didn't have to turn around to know that the girl probably weighed less than 125 pounds. Only skinny girls say that. Only the ones who don't actually have to worry about anyone else commenting about their weight. Why in the world was she concerned about her body fat? If I still had that metabolism I wouldn't be wasting time saying "I am going to get soooo fat" when I could be shoving copious amounts of peanut butter m&m's in my mouth.

This came just hours after I had had a mini break down in my closet because I couldn't find a work-appropriate-Friday-casual-sweat shirt to put over my post baby body. I looked in the mirror and all I could see was what was wrong. My pull over was just too tight for my vanities comfort. And dress pants are less than forgiving as well. The "bottom half" part of dressing every day is not something I look forward to.

And yesterday, a girl in the special-ed class pointed at my stomach as we were passing in the hallway and said "you are going to have a baby!" Wow.....that...felt....awesome... I couldn't even yell at her for doing it as developmentally, she is just in that stage right now.

In high school and college I never thought I had body issues. I mean, not the looks kind. No matter whether my body could get me out of bed and to school on time, It turns out that at 5'6" and 120 odd pounds you do have body issues, you just don't realize it because society approves of your body. But it turns out I have them. And having babies back to back has brought them out in me.

It is ironic in the worst sort of way. I have never been healthier. Truly. I am stronger than I have ever been (thanks to the healthy weight of the Peanut and five pm toddler dance parties). I don't wake up every day in pain or so exhausted I am literally puking. I have the freedom to make plans without saying "as long as I feel up to it." I can grow and birth babies with comparatively minimal difficulties. My body works great. And yet, I have never been harder on it.

When I tell my daughters that it is what is inside that counts, I want to mean it. When I tell them they are beautiful, not they would be beautiful if....I want them to believe me. I want to be conscious of my diet and exercise because I want to be able to play with my girls, not so I can fit into all my pre-baby clothes. I want to live out for them "beautiful and healthy comes in lots of shapes and sizes" not "it matters what the boys think, and they like skinny bodies."

I know that I am slowly making my way back into my clothes, but I also know that my body will be different than it was before. And I want to be okay with that. Proud of that even. I don't like the way my students talk about their own bodies as the enemy at the ripe age of 15. How did that happen? How did a 15 year old in a size 0 come to fear an extra five pounds above all else? How did a 28 year-old who was miraculously healed of a disorder Dr.'s still don't even know how to diagnose come to loathe a healthy working body that has fed and housed two beautiful babes? How did that happened?

Could it be that this world offers very little grace? We are told that good enough isn't good enough! Perfection is the new good enough! That if we only tried harder did more we could and would reach the standard that is in fact impossible to reach. And not just in our physique, in our jobs, as parents, as friends and Christ followers. I feel like the world is screaming at me: If you only tried harder you would do better! You aren't enough! Bad parent! Bad wife! Bad teacher! Bad, bad, bad, step it up!

It is time for me to tell the world to shut it. There is no longer space in my thoughts for those lies. God says I am enough. My body is enough, whether it fits into my dress pants or not. I am done running on that treadmill that gets me nowhere even as it increases in speed and incline. I will instead stroll hand and hand through the day with my savior, whose burden is light. I will do the best I can, and trust His grace to see me through. Rather than depend on my own efforts. And I will be kind and gracious, even to myself.

This body of mine seems to be ground zero for me when it comes to my year of giving grace to myself and others. And I am starting to understand why. It is the thing I can't hide. The thing that is out there, not explained away. It isn't perfect, and that is okay, imperfectly perfect even. Yes, I think we will start calling it that instead. After all isn't that what Paul said? Something about God's perfections coming through from my weaknesses?

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 2 Corinthians 12:9

Yeah, that. I think that sounds good.

Where I am at....2011

2011-12-31T18:57:00.001-05:00

As I look back at this year a phrase goes round and round in my head "If God put you where you're at, He will meet you where you are." And I think that pretty much sums up 2011 for me. It was a big year for my clan and I. Peanut's first birthday, Rooster's arrival. Another move by my school district, another fit thrown by me, another perfect fit for this time in my life. Christian started his PhD program. I wrote a children's book.

It was a big year, and most of these were big surprises. And ones I certainly wasn't hoping for but am so glad they happened. I pray I never forget the lessons of this year. That my plans are so small, and God's plans are so great, and so good. That the less time I spend fighting what is to come, the more time I have to see Jesus in all of the impending chaos. That if God put me where I am at, I can trust that I am stepping into his mercy every single time I step out of bed, even when that is multiple times a night.

A couple days after Christmas I was nursing Rooster in the living room where the Peanut's new tri-cycle was resting. (Where else but Grandma's house are tri-cycles allowed in the living room?) I wish I could tell you that I wasn't resenting the fact that I was the only one in the house awake. But I was. I was so tired. And then I thought of fifteen years from now when the thing with wheels that the girls will want under the tree will likely not be there and will certainly not be operated with pedals. I can already here myself saying "Do you remember the year the Peanut got that tri-cycle? She couldn't yet reach the pedals, but she got around well. That was Rooster's first Christmas, she loved that Elephant rattle, we named him Elvis. Those were the days...."'

I am aware that in some respects I am currently living "the days" the ones I will think about every time I see a little girl. That in some respects, 2011 was the beginning of them. I see the wistful look on my dad's face every time he sees a couple of little girls climbing all over their daddy. I will long for these moments, so I best do less whining and more treasuring. And at the same time give myself more grace, and permission to have a good cry sometimes. Because that is where I have found His mercies on more than one occasion.

The biggest regrets I have for 2011 are the moments when I was stingy with my grace, both to myself and to others, especially my family. The truth is, sometimes your best doesn't cut it....But God can cover the rest. If I am nothing else next year....I want to be gracious, to my body as I get back to where most of my clothes fit, to myself as I balance motherhood, teaching, and being a wife, to my husband as he balances all the Lord has for him, to my friends as they heal through the wounds life has inflicted, to my students who are simply teenagers and no one wants to do that again. I want to give grace because the world says it is unnecessary and a waste of time. But I believe it is healing and facilitates the freedom to do better.

I want to do better next year, whine less, treasure more. Let 2012 be the year of grace. God's grace to me...and through me. I can't help but being a little nervous writing that. We all know what Christ-giving brought....

Mary: Natural Birth Momma?

2011-12-18T21:59:00.000-05:00

It is the second year in a row that I am celebrating Christmas having given birth that year. Hopefully third time is not the charm...... It changes my perspective on Christmas for sure. In the past I have always been sort of enamored with the shepherds. They were my favorites. I mean, there they are just minding there own business when BAM the glory of the Lord totally invades their life.I could relate to that. I have been there.

But the whole mother thing. I could never relate to it at all. I remember thinking as a teen, that maybe the Holy Spirit intervened for Mary, that it was a completely painless and peaceful birth. As serene as so many of those carols we sing suggest. Yes, I thought, a miraculous pain free birth, that must have been it.And that was pretty much how I pictured it all. Even after I went through it twice, until I read this. And I suddenly have a very different picture of how it all went down conjuring in my heart.

I picture Mary on hands and knees, panting and grunting. Looking to Joseph and asking him if it will be over soon. Calling to God that in the middle of transition, that He must have been mistaken. She simply cannot bear the Christ child, let alone raise Him. And then the sense of peace that comes (with all those awesome hormones that come rushing your way) as someone pulls Jesus into her arms and she sees that He is in fact okay, she did in fact bear this child just as the Lord called her to do. He is here, He is glorious, and He is hers. I picture Mary naked and sobbing as she buries her face into the top of Jesus' wet pink head. Later when she and her new baby are cleaned up, her and Joseph sit around and giggle about how tiny His little toes are, what a noisy eater He is. When the shepherds come Mary shows off her new baby. So proud of Him and what she managed to do. But her sweetest moments are the ones that first night when Joseph and all the animals are asleep and she pulls Jesus out of the manager just to smell Him. Joseph is a good guy and all but that was an arranged marriage. This is love at first sight.

I am drawn to the comparison of Christs actual birth and the things that Christ births in each of us. Sometimes it is actual things (anybody know what I should do with that kids book I wrote...anyone out there a literary agent?), sometimes relationships, sometimes freedom from things. God wants to birth things in us. I am struck by the stories I have head about birth, how much they sound like people in spiritual labor.

Like my sister who says half way through pushing she decides it is too hard. She hears the people around her telling her to push, that it is almost done, but really she just wants people to leave her alone. She is too tired and does not want to do it anymore so she just lies there instead, when she should be pushing through it. How often do we do this? Get to the end of something God wants us to do and decide it is simply too hard, we cannot go on. So we do nothing, when we would be better off pushing through.

Or the woman who told her husband "You better get your brother out of here because I am about to take all my clothes off!" Sometimes what we need to do makes other people uncomfortable.....and we need to do it anyway, and let people leave the room if they can't handle it. Sometimes what God is asking us to do is lay our naked soul for all to see. And that can get awkward.

Sometimes it is like my cousin, who in the middle of transition she started packing her bags. She told her husband and her midwife she was not having this baby, that they were leaving the hospital. I can certainly relate to this. Sometimes when God calls us to something we simply flee. Jonah did that as I recall....it didn't really work out for Him. But I think sometimes I do leave, and then I am stuck spiritually pregnant and uncomfortable because I got scared and ran away.

Sometimes God's plan for us is like a dear friend's birth. She did everything she could but she needed a c-section. It wasn't at all what she pictured, and when she realized it wasn't going to go down as she had imagined she kicked everyone out of the room to grieve. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, what God has for us is nothing like we imagine. I think God understands that we need to grieve the old plans in order to embrace His new ones.

Or in my case, I need people around me who believe that I can give birth. Because even as I am doing it, I holler out that I cannot. I need my brothers and sisters in Christ to remind me that I can in fact and am in fact doing what I am claiming I cannot do.

Birth is messy and can feel confusing. It comes too quickly in some cases and not quickly enough in others (Oh rooster....you were worth the wait). It never goes how we expect or plan or picture. I don't pretend to know what it was like for Mary, or any woman for that matter. Birth is completely individual and universal all at the same time, just like our relationships with God. It is hard. But oh it is beautiful in all forms. Birth at all, let alone in a stable, is not the most glorious way to show up on this planet. Often the things God births in us come as screaming needy babies, things that need to be nursed and protected.

If I had been asked how I wanted to come into this world, I don't think I would have picked through a birth canal as a baby. And yet, that is exactly the way Jesus came. He chose the birth process, and I am sure it changed Mary forever, just as it has changed me forever. When I think about Mary birthing the Christ child...I can't help wondering what God is asking me to birth this Christmas, and how it will change me.

Confessions of a Grudge Holder

2011-12-15T23:46:00.001-05:00

You would think I would have learned my lesson by now. The one about withholding forgiveness do to my skewed sense of justice. The justice that does not hold hands with mercy but instead demands that I get my due right now! The justice that, when I have occasionally gotten it, leaves me vindicated....and hollow inside. Not at all the way I thought I would feel. Because that justice isn't of the Lord and from the Lord. It does not wait for the redeemer to come and paint a beautiful picture out of a fragmented mess. That justice is of the world......and this is not the first time it has seduced my heart.

You see, I am a grudge holder. Part of it comes from my excellent memory. I remember what people promised and did not, said and did not say. I remember. And more often than I care to admit, I hold it against them. And when the Lord calls me to repent, to go to my sister and brother in Christ and confess that my heart has been hard toward them....I tell Him no.

I grew up spending summers at my grandparents lake. There were thirteen cousins when I was young, with ten of us squished in to the span of 10 years. It was fun much of the time, but when there are that many cousins squished that close together, someone is bound to feel left out. And the dynamics were not in my favor. Looking back from an adult perspective I can tell you that much of the time it wasn't anyones fault, and with my propensity for fit throwing I probably deserved some of those doors that were slammed in my face. But I needed someone to blame. So I picked my cousin Rachel, the one who was born just six months before me. The one who had no need or desire for the close relationship that I longed for. I hardened my ten year old heart toward her. And as I grew older I did not put away the ways of my childhood. I continued my grudge-holding.

When I was in college we both were believers and the Lord called me to confess to her, that I had been storing up slights (real and imagined) since I was ten and holding them against her without her knowledge. But I refused. "No," I told him, "she snubbed me she should go first. If she has this relationship with you then she should know how much she hurt me. She should come to me. I deserve that." Typing this now makes me cringe. What a foolish brat I was. Year after year when we were getting together at Christmas or in the summer I would hear the Lord call, and every year I ignored it. I had stopped adding new slights to the pile and figured that was good enough. Even when I knew it wasn't.

Rachel died in a car accident the summer we were twenty-one. I never did have that conversation with her. I know I shorted myself out of the relationship that God intended for me to have, and it jacked up my relationship with my aunt for awhile. Until I confessed it all to her. She was gracious enough to forgive me. Good thing she isn't a grudge holder.

A month ago I wrote a post about Christ-Giving, about how I wanted to give this advent season the way that Christ had given to me. At the time I was thinking about financial generosity. He has been so generous to our family this year. But that is not what the Lord had in mind, and apparently He takes the intentions I profess to the internet seriously. He gave me forgiveness, and He has been asking me to forgive others, more like He forgives me. You know, no strings attached. And oh is my heart a tangled mess of strings attached it seems.

I was called to let go of a grudge I had been nursing for a long time. Grudges are like stray cats; they only hang around as long as you feed them. And if I am really honest with myself I have been nursing that grudge because I know that the person I was mad at doesn't really understand how badly I was hurt, and likely never will. I only wanted to confess my grudge if that person would then tell me how I had a right to it, and that I was of course forgiven because what they did was in fact as terrible as I had thought. I only wanted to confess if I would be told that my grudge holding had been justified all along. Which, thrown out in plain English like that, isn't much of a confession at all.

But that wasn't God's plan. Before any interaction with this person my dear neighbor Esther, who speaks truth in a gentle way I hope to one day emulate, had looked at me and said: perhaps the Lord will allow you to restore your relationship. If that wasn't enough, the Lord gave me the exact words to say on Saturday, moved me to tears in worship on Sunday, and then because God knows just how stubborn He made me, had my pastor list the fruit of the spirit, and stick forgiveness where faithfulness belongs. I know my pastor knows the verse, that slip of the tongue was just for me.

And then God showed me something else. That I had been extending grace and mercy in a certain situation only because I expected that person to repent, and repent soon. The string attached to the love I had been so proudly extending to my friend was that she would change on my timeline. And I was frustrated because my time limit had come and gone and yet....no outward change. I felt like this person didn't deserve that grace and mercy anymore because they hadn't changed. How gross is that?

Christ has given me forgiveness, no strings attached. Even if I never repented of anything He still would have come to earth as a baby and grown into the man who chose to die a horrendous death for the sins that I committed. And this Christmas season, I want the gifts that my savior has given me to spur me to give to others, even if that doesn't mean what I thought it meant when I wrote it the first time. And the Lord has certainly granted me forgiveness. Even forgiveness for holding grudges; no strings attached.

I don't want to be a grudge holder anymore. The Lord has scrubbed that crevice of my heart clean. It is raw and a little tender to the touch, but that piece of my heart is clean.

Let's get physical, physical....

2011-12-08T22:08:00.001-05:00

I am lying in bed exhausted. My hands feel as though my thumbs could fall off, my fore arms ache, and my back is asking me why in the world I contorted myself into a c shape for about two hours this evening. My feet aren't happy with me either. The Rooster has had a couple rough nights, and tonight while she wanted to fall asleep around 7:30 or 8, I didn't manage to actually get her truly asleep until about 9:45. I had her asleep three separate times before the fourth one finally took. Lately we have been coming up with "Roosters Rules for Babies" and the first two are: 1. Never ever leave the baby in a room by herself. Ever. Even for a moment. Even if you have to pee. 2. Babies are for holding, pick the baby up whenever possible.

Loving babies is such a physical act. It is even more apparent with my double helping of babydom. Putting on and taking off clothes, and shoes, and jackets. Picking up and putting down. Rocking and swaying and bouncing and walking. Tickling and hugging and kissing and patting. Holding Rooster in one arm while the Peanut grabs my hand and proclaims "walk!" So we go round and round the three rooms and a hallway that connect into a never ending circle of toddler path. And the feeding. Even the one who isn't actually being fed by my body still needs to be put in her seat and sometimes needs help with the spoon.

It is exhausting this physical love, even as I reflect on how it is fleeting. There is only a limited window that I will be able to hold both girls as we head for the car.The Peanut will one day take her own shirt off, rather than pulling it over her head and yelling "tuck, tuck!" (stuck, stuck) and there will come a day when the Rooster will no longer want rocked to sleep.

I never think about the physicality of love, when I think about love I always think about the confessing of emotions or the listening to someone in pain, the being with someone who is lonely. The emotional burdens bared and shared. But that is not the phase I am in with my children, babies are for holding after all.

And Christ, he came as a baby in a physical body. He needed holding and patting and rocking and changing. This Christmas I have been thinking a lot about the physicality of the incarnation. Christ came in a body that grew just like the two bodies that grew inside of me. He was birthed by a woman in labor just like my own babes. He stubbed his toes often as a toddler and fell every couple of steps when He was learning to walk. And later that body was used to physically touch the people society deemed untouchable. He scooped up babies and stroked the hands of old women. He literally carried burdens for people, firewood or well water.

And then the physicallity of the cross, the brutality inflicted on the body that Christ chose for himself. The willingness of Jesus to endure it all. I am struck this advent season, when I think about Christ coming, by the physicality of Christ's love.

It's complicated.

2011-12-07T12:19:00.001-05:00

I had a hard conversation last night. One of those conversations that you dread getting into and don't feel any better at the end. I felt like I was supposed to speak up, but now I don't know. I could have said some things better, not said some things better. And I find myself thinking about it today. Lucky for me the person that I had the conversation with, we value each other and our relationship more than one awkward conversation that ends in......"well, I'm glad we can be honest with each other." And this person had the grace to email me afterward, just to affirm that this would not change the way we loved each other. Which I appreciate, I needed.

Sometimes friendship is hard, relationships are hard, community is hard. Sometimes you are caught between saying and not, going or not, waiting or not, and there isn't a clear right answer. You can't figure out what the most loving thing to do is. You pray for guidance, but there is still mostly grey, when you are a black and white kind of girl.

You remember the time in the 6th grade when you very sincerely wore your WWJD bracelet, and looked down at it, and contemplated the ramifications of inviting the girl who no one had talked to your entire elementary school career to hang out with you at lunch....and then play with you at recess. You were sort of on the edges of the crowd as it was and you know you are risking a very uncomfortable rest of the year if this goes poorly. But at least that was clear. At least there was a very clear biblical precedent of Jesus inviting the outcast to eat with Him. Jesus would invite this girl. Clearly. So you did, and it worked out.

But right now there are a whole host of things that you don't know how to respond to. You no longer have the bracelet, but asking the questions embroidered onto it leaves you with a new acronym sixth graders have been using, IDK. You don't know what Jesus would do. As much as people like to pretend that the behavior of Jesus was completely consistent; that all we have to do is follow a set of rules that are clearly laid out in the Bible, you've actually read that book and it isn't so clear. Jesus responded differently to what seem like the same set of circumstances. And you are neither omniscient nor omnipotent and you don't want to pretend that you are.

There is just so much grey lately, and you aren't very good at grey. You just want to do the loving thing......and are afraid of unintentionally doing a very unloving thing in the name of doing a loving thing because you did in fact do the wrong thing in the name of love. And it is all as confusing and jumbled up as that last sentence. You realize that there are times that you will in fact do the exact wrong thing. But that the grace and love that you are trying to extend to others is also extended to yourself. So you rest in the knowledge that that grace is enough, even as you stumble through the grey patches.

What I did this weekend.

2011-12-04T23:18:00.001-05:00

Today I am scared. I feel like I am going to throw up. But also, I am proud of myself. I finished my book this weekend. Not that book, the one that has been hanging over my head for four years. Instead I finished the children's book that God laid on my heart a month or so ago. The one God was talking about when He spoke to me as I was looking at myself in the mirror brushing my teeth. "I gave you the kids book because you are afraid of the other book. So finish it, and give it to me and I will prove to you what I can do." I suppose I shouldn't need proof from God that He can provide all my wants and needs. Just look at my great little family.

But stuff I create somehow feels different.It is hard for me to value my own writing. I am not even sure why, I mean, you people read this thing after all! (Thank you for that, I really do feel privileged.) The self doubt screams at me, "Who do you think you are anyway?" I didn't have an answer for that. Until I read this. And the answer is so simple.Who cares about who I am, this isn't about me. This is about not who I am. This is about THE I am, and my obedience to Him. And this weekend (because Christian took the kids, thank you!) I was obedient. I wrote a book that the Lord had laid on my heart. I don't know what He is going to do with it. I am terrified of the rejection I may have set myself up for. But I did it. This weekend, I was faithful. And I need to trust that the God who has always been faithful to me in everything will also be faithful in this. But I still kind of want to puke.

Oh the death spiral.....

2011-12-01T13:00:00.000-05:00

The Rooster is sleeping upstairs. The Peanut is at Elizabeth's sleeping in her toddler bed, (her toddler bed! I know...I don't want to talk about it!) and I am sitting on the couch in my silent living room feeling like a bad mom, a bad friend, a bad writer and wife..... I guess bad is not the right word. More like.....not enough. I am feeling like I am not good enough. And I know that I am not enough, but that through the grace of Jesus Christ He makes me enough, more than enough. But right now in this moment I don't feel like that. I feel like I don't cut it.

I suppose I should recognize the pattern in my life. I have been believing some lies about my body lately. Lies about what is\t should look like two months post partum. And so I skimp on the food for the day, not a lot. Just enough to be a little bit hungry. And by not feeding my body I am feeding this lie. That my body is not good enough. And that pretty quickly bleeds into how I am not good enough. At anything, because my kid is not with me, because my house is not clean, because I don't write in this or anything else enough, because...because....because. My sister calls it the death spiral.

I know you know what I am talking about. A post baby body becomes "my body isn't good enough" becomes "My kids are crying because I am not a good enough mother" becomes "my house becomes evidence of my inability I can't even get the toys off the floor" becomes "I am not a good enough wife" becomes you crying in a heap on the couch. Because I fed the lie. The first one. And I have learned that the only way to combat those lies is with truth. It is the only way to stop the death spiral. Because truth brings life just as lies bring death.

The truth is that I am good enough. That God has empowered me to be what my family needs for me.....He gave me them, He knew what He was doing. The truth is my house is a mess.....and my friends don't really care. They get that two kids under two means chaos reigns, and they respect my choice to let the Peanut take all the pans and spoons out of the kitchen drawers while I make dinner so that we can all be in the kitchen happy. They are perfectly happy to trip over those pans. The truth is that my worth resides in not the happiness of my kids, the cleanliness of my house, or even the quality of my words and whether anyone is impressed with them. My worth resides in Jesus Christ, what He did for me on the cross. My savior thinks I am enough, perfect in His abundance. And when you start spouting that, the death spiral has nowhere to go but up.

How I want to celebrate.

2011-11-25T19:37:00.001-05:00

Sometimes, I put too much pressure on myself for holidays. I don't know. I spend regular days sometimes, in my worst moments, worrying that I am somehow am screwing it all up for my kids. So, on any given holiday I am capable spending at least half of it worrying that I am doing it all wrong......which ironically, if you are sitting at a holiday gathering worrying if you are doing it all wrong then you are. So relax, self, chill out.

I have been spending some time thinking about Christmas, how I want our family to celebrate. I have such rich memories of Christmas growing up. Of setting out the nativity and reading "The Night Before Christmas," of gingerbread houses and lighting advent candles. I want my girls to have the same.

I don't think there is anything wrong with waking up on Christmas morning and looking forward to your presents. We didn't always have the money to make every kids wish on Christmas morning. But my gifts were always well thought out. I opened them and knew that my parents had paid attention to my wants and needs. I felt loved.

I want that for my girls. I want them to know that I pay attention to and care about the things that they love. But I can already see how fast it can happen, how your house can fill up with plastic and your kids can never be satiated. How it can become all about more, more, more.

I have heard people who are commenting on it all running together. Thanksmas they are calling it. I think that reflecting on what I am thankful for is perhaps the best way to start my Christmas season. But I am not in love with the phrase "Thanksmas." That whole taking Christ out of Christmas thing. So I shoved it together the other way in my head and came up with "Christ-giving". Now that is a holiday I can get behind. A whole holiday month I can celebrate.

I want this to be a time where my girls celebrate what Christ has given to our family. The enormity of Him coming to earth as a baby, as well as the smallest miracle of a parking space close to the store with an empty shopping cart next to it when it is raining and we need it most. Christ has given me every good thing in my life, and I want to reflect on that. And I want those gifts to inspire us to give generously, in the name of Christ. To decide that instead of one more toy at our house, we would rather take an extra name off of the angel tree.

I want to celebrate Christ giving me my family, for providing this year for us abundantly. Giving me my salvation and then lavishing his gifts still further. Wanting wonderful things for me. I want to celebrate by allowing Christ to move into our hearts and move us to give. So, happy "Christ-giving" to you and yours. May God richly bless you as you richly bless others this season.

That's what we are going for anyway....that and copious amounts of cookies.

Because You Probably Need to Hear it.

2011-11-17T21:29:00.000-05:00

An open letter to someone specific....that could end up being more than one person specific....God works like that you know.......makes the same word just for you.

God adores you, is over the moon about you. If He slept, He would fall asleep wishing you were next to Him and wake up with your name on His lips. He would stay up all night just to watch you breathe.

He thinks of you as His bride. Every romantic thing you have ever seen done at a wedding in person, or on TV, or in the movies, or in your imagination, God wants to do all of those things for you. He wants to surprise you with His love like that. God wants to make you feel that special. He looks at you like the moment a groom lays eyes on his bride for the first time u. Because He is desperately in love with you and wants everyone to know. Everyone.

Like God wants to not just profess His love to you on the jumbo tron at the game, but at the Super Bowl, at every major league sporting event that will be played for the rest of time, and the minor league ones too. He thinks you are just that incredible. And He wants everyone to know that He thinks you are the most amazing person on earth.

If God were a thirteen year old boy He would make bargains with Himself about, "if you would just let me sit next to her in first period." He would sit in His room and wonder what it was like to just hold your hand. God thinks holding your hand would be incredible.

If God were a thirteen year old girl He would secretly write your name all over the inside cover of His notebook; He would add hearts. He would have a code name for you and rearrange the way He got to class so He could pass your locker multiple times a day.

If you were in a long distance relationship, He would eat ramen noodles for weeks on end just to afford a plane ticket to see you. He would call you at midnight so He could hear you breathing on the other end of the phone when you both fell asleep. He would tell you His astronomical cell phone bill was totally worth it.He would mean that.

God is totally crazy about you. Not the corporal you. YOU, the one who is reading this. He will never get over how much He loves you, loves a million things about you, loves your strengths, and your quirks and the way you.....If God had poker buddies they would stop inviting Him to play because all He does all day is talk about how great you are.

God adores you. He thinks you are incredible, He feels lucky to be with you. God loves you.

This one's for the girls

2011-11-17T15:18:00.000-05:00

An open letter to my two beautiful girls.

My heart could explode with all the joy you give me. I don't know if your momma will always be a working momma. I love my job and think I am good at it....but I am so grateful for these extra months I was given to stay at home. They are such an amazing blessing.

Rooster, right now it is me and you, everywhere. We are a team. And you are such an easy baby that I politely decline when people offer to take you, even for an hour. I am simply not ready to give you up yet. You are mine. You smile now. And you have glorious dimples. But you make us work for it, or surprise me right when you wake up from a nap and it is just me and you. You seem to come out of your shell in the quiet times. It makes me wonder if your sister may over shadow you, but you don't seem to mind.I can already see how your personalities will challenge and compliment each other. It is hard sometimes, but sisters are amazing. I can already see your babyhood slipping away. Your hair stands down a little now, your new born diapers are too small. You are trying to hold your head up. And as I delight in these things.....I am a little sad. Now I know that once you start doing these things you will never not do them. We can never go back. You have a naturally gentle spirit. And you are so patient with your family. You let your sister try to push your binky back in and then pull it out again and give herself a turn over and over again. And you don't mind. When you cry out because you need something, if you think I am about to guess right you stop crying and wait to see if your needs will be met. I appreciate the grace you give me. I hope you are always that gracious. Don't let me take all the credit for that trait when you get older. God designed you with that graciousness, and it will serve you well. Already, sometimes you need a minute to yourself. You like to sit in your seat and kick your legs, as though you need a moment to just process and be with yourself. It has taken me twenty-eight years to realize I need those times too. Don't be afraid to take them, it is simply how you were made. Don't apologize for it.

And Peanut. You are currently the definition of a laugh riot. I don't think you will ever have to remember to live life to the fullest. You experience everything one hundred percent.You laugh and smile so freely. You cry so loudly when you are upset. When you like something you LOVE it. When you want a book read, you want it read right now, and fifteen times. You woke your dad up from a nap on the couch the other day by sticking a board book in his ear and shouting "he-ya" over and over again. You entertain yourself and others by singing every song you know, and you are good at it. Aunt Em can recognize the songs when we are on the phone and you are only in the background. Even when it is just you and Rooster in the back of the car you are singing. I love it when you sing "Jesus Loves Me." If you just remember that, live by that, you will thrive. You try to hold your sisters hand when you are in the car. Although it occasionally leads to your sister's arm being pulled out of the socket, it also makes me tear up with joy. I am so, so glad the Lord blessed you with each other. The other day someone stopped us in the grocery store, looked at me and said, "that one has a beautiful spirit, doesn't she" she could sense your joy. It rolls off of you in waves, splashing on to not just me and your dad, but the people in our small group, the clerk at the grocery store, the old women in the neighborhood. I have watched your smile infect so many people. I am sure I will be watching that for the rest of my life.

I love you both so much. There are no words that have not been said to describe how much I love you...and every word that has been written is not enough to describe it. But even more than that God loves you. He made you to be incredible people. I am grateful for the opportunity to help in that process.

Love,

Mom

A Heart for Adoption, A Womb that Won't Quit.

2011-11-15T22:52:00.000-05:00

When I was sixteen I heard a radio program put on by Focus on the Family. (Don't ask what a teenager was doing listening to Dr. James Dobson, I don't have the answer for that.) I don't remember the context, I just remember the statement: If you are going to be anti-abortion then you must be actively pro-adoption. Period. And I was vehemently anti-abortion, that I knew.

My dad had spent some time defending pro-life picketers when they inevitably got sued. He brought them and their message home and I understood from a very early age what abortion was and God's love for life. I was anti-abortion, that much I knew.

I don't know how to explain how a calm logical if, then statement could strike such a powerful chord in a sixteen year old heart, but God spoke to me in that one sentence. I was called to be actively pro-adoption. So much so that my high school boyfriend and I got into a fight about our imaginary future and if he would be comfortable with adoption. So much so that when that relationship ran it's course (as so many High School relationships do) and my husband and I started getting serious far sooner than anyone had anticipated, I asked him about adoption. How comfortable was he with idea of adopting some of his future children?

I remember telling him that I just wasn't comfortable with fertility drugs, that while that seems to be the path the Lord has for some, if I couldn't get pregnant I didn't want to figure out what was wrong. I wanted to adopt. I told him that even if I could get pregnant I felt called to be the mom of a baby who did not grow in my body, but had been planted in my heart when I was sixteen years old. He listened to my reasoning and shrugged his shoulders "makes sense to me." Adoption was officially in "the plan."

When we ditched the birth control five years into our marriage we both openly talked about how it would make sense for God to make us infertile. We agreed to see what happened for 6 months and then run as fast as we could to qualify for adoption in the United States. That was mid-May. By August I was pregnant. With a beautiful baby girl we were commissioned to parent in our arms, we began thinking about the next step. Eventually, not any time soon of course, but eventually we thought the next one would come through a domestic adoption. But we weren't ready to be the parents of more than one for at least another 2 years at the very minimum.

7 months after Juliet was born I got pregnant. We found out days after my husband resigned from his job to begin PhD school in the fall. And I was confused. Lord, why now? Why, when I so desperately wanted to adopt. When this was a terrible time for any new babies, but especially ones that would grow in my body. And what about those twins I was promised? When are they coming?

Meanwhile my one friend was praying for a baby girl that she did not expect to be adopting right now. She always assumed she would have all her biological ones and then do the adoption thing. My other friend was raising money for a 6 year old boy in Russia that she didn't know she wanted until God whispered in her heart
"he is your son." All three of our babies came home within 8 weeks of each other. Two on the same day.

I have friends and relatives who are trying desperately to get pregnant. People who would make great parents. I don't understand it, and I am sure I could not understand their pain. But my heart aches for them. I wish I knew how to convey that to them.

I wish I knew why God makes the choices He does. Especially when it comes to babies. But I know that His plan is good. Callie and I had a joint baby shower where I remarked that I did not know of a single baby who had received more prayer than hers. She remarked that on this side it seems so hard to imagine the heartbreak that was her two failed placements. I only remember doubting the Lord because I wrote about it. Of course I have always wanted this baby. Of course this is the perfect time. Of course this was the perfect way.

A weekend in "sometimes"

2011-11-13T21:16:00.000-05:00

Sometimes your mom comes to help out for a week and you don't know how your house functioned without her. You now know why your friend's mom thought you would move back to Ohio after the first baby.

Sometimes you attempt to breastfeed in a community that isn't used to public breastfeeders, and end up providing the dinner entertainment for your brother in law. He is sitting across from you and has a great view of all the peoples reactions a second before they try to play it cool. He can't stop laughing about it. You laugh too.

Sometimes your first Atlanta friend hosts a shower at her house with your sister, and your kids second mom, and your neighbor, for you and your other blogging mom friend whose second baby came home on the same day as yours. She calls them twins. You love that. You get a homemade sweater and think about how your first kid has actually worn this woman's love and now your second one gets to too. You get a book featuring a little girl named Priscilla. You love that name. You feel so loved.

Sometimes you have one baby asleep in the sling and the other one is crying and needs to be picked up. So you bend down and scoop the second one up on your hip. She reaches down to pet her sister's hair like she likes to do. You kiss both fuzzy heads and join in the worship. You think, so this is what God means when the old-testament mentions a double portion. It is heavy sometimes but so, so good.

Sometimes you look back on your weekend and are humbled by the blessings in your life.

Community and the Pack

2011-11-12T23:44:00.000-05:00

I've noticed something about the Peanut. It is remarkably easier to get her to do something she is supposed to do at Elizabeth's house in front of her "pseudo-siblings." Like eat her dinner and not throw things on the floor, or pick up toys, or say thank you and not throw fits. She just behaves better over there.

My mom spent this week helping out (thanks mom!) and I told her about this observation. Well yeah, she said, it is the pack mentality. The Peanut is a part of that pack, so she is going to act in a way that identifies with the pack. Lucky for me her pack is generally well behaved. So she picks up this good behavior.

I remember feeling this way as a kid, particularly at my grandparent's lake house. There are just things that Frances do! And when I didn't behave the way I was supposed to I felt particular shame because I wasn't acting the way I was expected too, I wasn't aligning myself with the pack of cousins.

The pack mentality is particularly evident when you teach in the vastly different communities that I have taught in. If you are a students, at Roswell, it is just easier to do what you are supposed to do. Because everyone else is following the rules and you will stand out for not doing the right thing. At Banneker, the opposite was true. It took a lot of resistance to the pack to consistently do what you were supposed to do.

In some ways I think this is why God wants us in community with other believers. It is easier to live a Godly life when I identify with a Godly group. Because I identify with 1027 church and one of their goals is to give generously of their time, then it is easier for me to do the same personally and not just corporately. It aligns me with the pack. Heck, one of the things my church says is important is telling my story. I'm not sure it is a coincidence that more than one of us has a blog. It is part of who we are. It aligns us with the intentions of our pack.

I know pack mentality isn't always a good thing. I teach teenagers, believe me, I know. But if you choose your pack wisely.....I think it can be. How many times have you heard parents say "we don't do that." Identifying the rule as a family behavior pattern helps.

Who is your pack?

Learning to Love

2011-11-06T22:14:00.001-05:00

About two weeks ago I finally pulled the "I love my neighbor" bumper sticker out that the church gives out and put it on my car. As I was proudly affixing said sticker to my car my neighbor waved me over. This neighbor loves babies, and she had put in a formal request to see Rooster with our other neighbor. But I just hadn't gotten around to it.

I get it God. I get it. If I am going to run around town with a car that says it, I better mean it. And really Abby, it wouldn't have taken that much to give your neighbor some joy before this. So off I trotted to bring Rooster over to Ms. Hattie. And let the Peanut run around her front yard as Ms. Hattie laughed and commented on how busy I must be. Then she mentioned that she had no one to rake her leaves. So we got a group together this weekend and raked. Well, everyone else raked and I chased the Peanut around while wearing Rooster. And Ms. Hattie laughed.

I am learning how healing and comforting babies can be. And I have two! One that will let anyone cuddle her and another that will have a chat with the world. People love babies, and sometimes I am selfish with mine.I don't want to go down the street two houses. I just don't feel like it. And sometimes, even worse, I want these babies all to myself. To snuggle and cuddle and only want to go to me. ( I am well aware if this were the case I would be pulling my hair out and writing over and over again in this thing STOP TOUCHING ME!)

But I have kids who love loving. They are friendly and funny and the Peanut would be happy to share your chips with you by stuffing them one at a time into your mouth and yelling MMMMM as you chew. And if I want kids who love their neighbor then I have to start now. which means running around the front yard more often, and letting other people hug on my kids. And answer the same questions about them a hundred times, because hey what is it going to hurt. Loving my neighbors is not convenient for me. Because it isn't about me. And here is the crazy thing, when I love my neighbor, which isn't about me........it makes me better. It makes me a better mom, a better wife. It makes me feel like I did something more than input and output for the under two set. Loving my neighbor makes me love me.....funny how God designs that.

I don't want a sister wife...I do want a communal house.

2011-11-03T00:42:00.000-04:00

I have a serious affinity for terrible television. The best way to some it up is that Christian and I both refer to Khloe Kardashian as ""my girl." Actually, Christian refers to all of the Kardashian sisters as "your girl" because he can't tell them apart......anyway. I love bad TV, and I found a new bad love.

So I am a little late to the party, but I just caught the first two seasons of Sister Wives on Netflix. For those of you who don't waste hours watching reality TV, the show follows a practicing polygamist family. One dad four moms of four separate families that all live in one big house and also function as one big family. Now, let me say up front that I am not down with polygamy. And I don't believe God is down with it either..... Just so we are clear NOT ENDORSING POLYGAMY.

So I don't want their lifestyle.....but I do want their house. And I want their sense of community. Basically you walk in the front door and there are separate mini-houses off of a main hallway. They also have some really good insight about how to live in community. I guess you would have to if you voluntarily decided to live in "the lifestyle" as they call it. One of the women talks about how she was raised in the lifestyle and had always wanted to be a third wife. She really wanted to be a third wife because she wanted the community with the other women, and also because she saw having other wives to depend on as freeing.

They all talk about it, the freedom of having multiple adults to depend on. If someone is caught up at work or at the doctor there is another adult who can get your kid from school. If one adult is really good at making Halloween costumes and the other one is good at cooking big dinners, and still another wants a high powered career they just farm out the responsibilities and let everyone do the things they want and are good at. The fourth wife was a single mom for three years. You can almost see the weight lifted off of her shoulders when she talks about being part of a team. She doesn't have to be everything to her kids anymore.

Still another wife (the first wife) talks a lot about adjusting to the other people. How when she gets her back up about something, it is she who needs an attitude adjustment. How ultimately living in community with these other women makes her kinder, gentler, less selfish. She talks about how it is okay for it to be hard. To wrestle with it even as she does it. That just because something is hard and uncomfortable doesn't mean we shouldn't do it. It means that we can choose to grow in it, to let God prune us. And we can trust that if God called us into something (not saying God called them into this lifestyle, but God does call us into different relationships with people) then it will shake out better than ever when you get through that hard spot.

I have been interested in communal living for awhile. Before I followed blogs I would check up on a blog about two sisters who shared a house (whoelsewantstoliveinmyhouse.com). If I had the means I would build an addition onto my house and move a set of grandparents in with us. Elizabeth and I talk about how much easier our lives would be if we lived in a duplex. It is hard in some ways, I get that. You have to be more flexible and less bothered by things. You have to let a lot roll off your back, you have to share more. You have to share your stuff, and you have to share your life. Your emotions, your heart, your vulnerabilities. It isn't always comfortable. Sometimes you just don't want to be inconvenienced. But your life is richer for it....and you are changed for the better.

This whole thing has made me think about how interesting it is that someone could have some stuff so so right and other stuff really really wrong. Their marriage may be jacked up, but they model community and loving each other well. If they all had separate husbands but continued to live in the same house sharing life...sign me up. I wonder what I have in my life that God would think, that piece is right but that piece WAY wrong.

Don't take it! It is MINE!

2011-11-01T00:22:00.000-04:00

I was talking with a dear friend a couple weeks ago. She was struggling to give something to God, wanting desperately to hang on to it. She knew that God had give it to her. She believed that this thing would continue to grow in a way that would glorify God. But she was afraid to give it back to Him.....what if He kept it? We've all been there. Oh Lord, how I have been there!

It reminds me of the stage that the Peanut is in right now. (And can I tell you how humbling it is to see my relationship with God mirrored in my relationship with my 18 month old...and God shows me that I am acting like my toddler....seriously humbling.) Peanut knows what she wants, whether it is to carry her toothbrush around the house, or more of the cherry-limeade that I got from Sonic for us to share. That she has already had more than half of. But sometimes she doesn't know the best way to get it.

Take for instance the much sought after cherry Sonic goodness. If we are down to the bottom of the cup, then the straw has to be inserted at exactly the right angle. And you can't tip the cup up. And the straw needs to be pushed all the way in. Those of us who have been using a straw for twenty-eight years or more understand these concepts so well we no longer think about them. But an 18 month old is still learning the ways of the fast-food world. All she knows, when I take the cup away so that she can access the carbonated corn syrup better, is that she was holding the cup and had the straw headed towards her mouth......and now she doesn't. NO! DON'T TAKE MY SUGAR FROM ME! I WAS DRINKING THAT! YOU GAVE IT TO ME! HOW COULD YOU TAKE IT BACK! A serious fit ensues.She doesn't understand that I am not taking it away, but in fact making it so she can drink better. I am improving, fixing, giving her more of the goodness....

How often in my life am I hanging on to something so stinking tight it takes forever for God to wrestle my hands off of it....Then I yell and cry that it isn't fair....only for Him to give it back to me in a way that makes the whole thing....better. And here I was in the middle of my fit. Pardon me as I pick my embarrassed self up off the floor and attempt to walk away with dignity.

Have I mentioned?

2011-10-30T12:29:00.000-04:00

Have I mentioned that I love my church? I do. I love my church. And not just because I am currently receiving meals at my door step two days a week. There are so many things I love about my church. One of those things was highlighted last night.

I was at a baby shower for one of the many pregnant/ post-partum women in my church (seriously, it is an epidemic....don't drink the coffee). There are 6 of us either pregnant or mothering a baby under 1, take into account there are only about 15 married couples total (including those well past child bearing age) and only about 60 people on any given Sunday....the pregnancy percentage is high. We got to talking about how great it is to be a mom at 1027 church. Mostly because the "mommy wars" there is so much hub-bub about online....don't exist there. The standard line seems to be "oh, you do it like that....cool."

From ultrasounds (one family doesn't get any, one family gets one every time they go to the office) to breastfeeding (exclusive, both, only formula) to working (stay at home, part time, full time) to anything else you can think of there is the full spectrum at our house of worship. And never do I hear a bad thing said about the way anyone else parents.We were sitting around discussing my cloth diapers, and how the parents to be were definitively not going to do cloth. And I get it, the thought grosses people out, plus disposables are easier. Cool. I am not going to bicker with you about what collects your kids poop. I just am not. And neither are they.

But we will love each others kids and support each other as parents. In fact, we will stand as a church and corporately promise to do just that. And we will mean it.If someone needs a sitter and you can possibly do it, even if that means you have to rearrange your schedule a little.....you do. If someone looks exhausted, like they just need a minute, you take their kid out of their arms and give them that minute. Or when a woman laments that her and her husband haven't been on a date in 6 months about seven people DEMAND that they be called to babysit in the next few weeks.

My church rejoices in every milestone the peanut and the rooster (formerly known as spike) have. Delight in them right along with me. And I get to delight in their kids too! I don't know of another baby who was more prayed for than my friend Callie's little girl. And the rejoicing that happened, for the next two weeks every conversation that I had with a member of my church started with "Did you hear, the Riches got their daughter" or "Have you seen the pictures of Evangeline?" That baby came home to her parents, yes. But she also came home to her church.

Yesterday Christian and I went out to a party thrown by one of the other PhD students in his department. We left Juliet sleeping at home with Esther, an awesome woman of God. And when we came home she looked at us and said, "seriously any time" and meant it! I didn't have to feel like I had burdened her. She loves the Peanut too.

Let me take you to Dun duh dun: Toddler Town!

2011-10-15T22:36:00.000-04:00

As my due date creeped closer and closer and I started having contractions more and more often, I began to be concerned. The Peanut, while able to walk, simply preferred crawling. How the heck was I going to manage anything if I had two kids I had to carry around. Well, as my colleagues at Banneker taught me, God doesn't always come when you want Him, but He always comes right on time. (This is my second favorite phase I learned teaching in a predominantly black community. The first being: Charge that to my head, not to my heart.)

The Peanut started walking 85% of the time the day we got Spike home from the hospital. And we are officially living in Toddler Town, where every moment someone is pulling on your hand demanding walk, WALK! I would say the one word I would use to describe baby phase is sweet. Everything is just so sweet, the little toes, the little clothes, the first everything is just so sweet to witness. The toddler phase word in this house is FUN! The Peanut is so fun right now. And to celebrate this fun time in our house, the Top Ten signs you have entered Toddler Town.

1. You invite the toddler to watch you in the bathroom in the hopes that they will soon gain interest in the potty. The toddler points at you while peeing and exclaims EEEwwww eewww EEEEEWWWW! Then tries to pull all of the toilet paper off the roll.

2. Every question is answered with a resounding NO! But that negative is often switched to an affirmative when asked "By no, do you mean yes?" (Wouldn't it be great if you could get every "no" in your life changed like that?)

3. The bathroom door remains shut at all times (even if no one is in there) because while there has been no interest in peeing in the potty, there is great interest playing in the toilet. Plus the roll of toilet paper is again, very fun to unroll.

4. Things that were once safe on the dining room table are now in the danger zone because the toddler has learned to pull out the chairs, crawl on them to get on top of the table and wreak havoc with anything she has found. Someone especially likes to dump out all the salt or pepper and then make designs in it. The toddler does all this while telling herself "no, no, naughty, uh-uh".

5. You have spent a twenty minute drive singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" over and over because the toddler in the back claps and yells YEAH! And then starts singing again every time you finish.

6. While in public you spend a lot of time explaining that everything everyone else has "doesn't belong to us" because the toddler thinks it is acceptable to climb into a strangers wagon, or walk up to a strange woman drinking a coke, smack her lips and say mmmmmm in hopes of getting a drink.

7. You go through about 4 dish towels a day because you have to repeatedly clean up the dog water that has been spilled out of the dog dish that is now upside down and being pushed around on the floor while the toddler yells "beep beep."

8. You are often interrupted by "AAAAAAH! stuck, stuck!" because there are a myriad of places the toddler can get into but not out of.

9. You lose your keys, or glasses that you swear were just right on that table, because put things in other things is the new favorite game. You find whatever it is you were missing a week later in the toe of your boot you haven't worn in two weeks but never got around to putting away.

10. Anything and everything that can be worn around a neck is worn around the neck: purses, jewelery, my sling, the top of the tiny potty, Christian's underwear, etc.

It is exhausting, and at times frustrating. But I laugh every single day, look at Christian and exclaim, "did you just catch what our daughter did?" Because it is fun to just be a witness.

Reality Check: You can't earn God's favor.

2011-10-13T16:39:00.001-04:00

Funny thing happened. I started a Facebook status update and realized I had a lot more to say. Or rather, I wanted to work through these thoughts in a bigger space. And the Peanut is with Elizabeth, and Spike is snoozing in the bouncy chair so I guess I will take the time to think about something that isn't what is coming in or out of my children.

I am not an expert on economic issues. I have never taken a course on economics in my entire life. I grew up in a house with a serious conservative bent, and deeply respect the thoughts of the people who raised me. They love God and they serve Him and they are really stinking smart. I spent my college days in an extremely liberal activity and am in a profession that tends to vote democrat. I have met people there who love God and serve Him and vote democrat. Many of them are also pretty smart. I don't think either party has a lock on what Jesus would do if He were a senator. I give you this information as a disclaimer because am getting all fired up about Occupy Wall Street.

More specifically, I am getting all fired up about what I have seen people posting on Facebook about Occupy Wall Street. Namely, I am agitated by the posts that keep popping up about how hard someone worked for their stuff and if those protesters would just work hard enough they could have that too. When sentiments like that come out of the mouths of believers, frankly, it makes me want to throw up. You can disagree with the protesters all day long and I will not puke on your shoes. But please do not tell me that the reason you are living a solid middle class American life is because you have worked really hard, not because you have been blessed by God. His favor has been poured out onto you.

Yes, maybe you did work really hard. I am by no means discrediting every single hour you worked. And yes, maybe you did teach your kids the right things about money and they listened and are being responsible. That is a great legacy that will surely benefit not just your children, but your children's children. But those money principles are biblical, and how blessed were you to go to a church that taught those things? You were blessed with a job that makes ends meet and granted favor in that position that you were able to stay, or even get promoted. You were blessed with kids who have the ability to go to college, with either no major medical bills, or God provided the means to pay them. You live in a safe country, in a safe neighborhood, in a house that isn't killing you or being foreclosed on because you planned well, and also because God blessed you. He protected you from calamity and/or provided when bad things happened.

Maybe I am particularly sensitive to this because I am right smack dab in the middle of the fountain of God's favor in my life. I have two healthy amazing kids. I work at a job that lets me take more than minimum maternity leave AND God totally provided financially for us during this time. All the paychecks I am missing are in the bank for safe keeping. Yes, I worked extra but God was very gracious with getting me the job and providing above what I earned from summer school. Then just because God is a crazy giver, He gives me a free second car seat (that we were considering buying). But God doesn't stop there Spike likes to rock at night and it has become clear I may need a glider upstairs. Elizabeth said we could borrow hers, and I have a lead on a FREE one from Craigslist. We just have to nail down when I am going to pick it up. I was given the two things I told Christian I needed to buy for Spike the morning I was going to go get them (seriously people, you need some swaddle blankets). Then Christian's cohorts and professors hand him a 100 bucks to Target! Happy Baby! These are just the things I can remember off hand. But I know for sure I earned none of this. I am blessed by God.

I don't know if the rich are too rich, or if they don't pay enough taxes. I am not informed enough to construct an opinion on that at the moment. I don't know how to fix health care or retirement. I DO think that we need some sort of guaranteed paid maternity leave in this country. But I don't know how to make it work. And I certainly don't know how to fix the housing crisis or our economy. But I do recognize the favor the Lord has given me. And am so very grateful for His blessing.

Tis so Sweet

2011-10-12T00:38:00.000-04:00

The past week I have been humming "Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus" a lot. A couple times a day. I am not doing it on purpose. But the fullness of my heart is spilling out of my mouth. (Which is a nice change from the whining that was spilling out of my mouth the last month of pregnancy.) I just feel so blessed. Priscilla (tentatively being referred to as Spike) is a great eater which makes her a great sleeper....and a champion pooper....but hey I will take it.

And I am feeling truly blessed getting to stay home with my oldest. The Peanut is so so fun right now. She learns new words every single day, and while she won't say it on command I have heard her say her sisters name three times. This doesn't mean that I am not well aware that at any moment when I am with them and Christian is at class all three of us could collapse into tears. But when it is good it is so so good.

I was comparing notes with a friend from church who has a six month old that was a surprise baby. Both of us were talking about how sweet our bonus babies were, how we steal moments with our daughters like 16 year-olds in serious puppy love, that we call this one MY baby and inhale into their soft fuzzy heads. It is so so sweet to trust in the plan God has for me.

The Peanut has been taking to Spike better and better each day. She is actual touching Spike's head softly when she says "nice, nice" rather than the whacking she had done previously. She also likes to share snacks with Spike....which is sweet and dangerous all at the same time. But truly hilarious when she just pretends her sister is eating the cereal by going mmmmMMMmmm and then smacking her lips.

Life with two under two is awesome, but it is intense. Constantly keeping tabs on whether everyone is safe, dry, and full is about all I can handle. Today was the first day I had both kids while Christian was at class. There was only one time when both kids were crying and I didn't cry once. So we will call today a resounding success. I don't want to down play the chaos, and exhaustion that is my daily life (because I have been trying to write this post for a week, but there were always more pressing matters, or I was too tired). I spend most of my days clinging to God's grace, and the rest of it praising God for providing that grace. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

And now.....a Birth Story

2011-10-01T14:46:00.000-04:00

I went into the hospital the Friday of Labor Day weekend sure I was going to have this baby. Sure. And they sent me home.....and I cried. And the same thing at three in the morning on monday. I would wake up with full on contractions and by the time I got to the hospital....nothing. It wasn't really the pain. Pain I can manage. It was the adreniline signals my body kept sending my brain, like "okay! any day now! any moment! stay ready!" They were so intense Christian and I agreed it was time to stop working. I literally felt like I would have to rush to the hospital at any moment and the thought of doing that from Roswell was just too much. So I called my department head and went to my appointment on Tuesday where I cried, and learned my body had been contracting for a week and was making no progress......same thing next Tuesday. 39 weeks, same as 37 sorry about your discomfort...the baby will come when she is ready...... That weekend was Jill's birthday and since there was no baby, what the hey, her husband and I threw her a suprise party. Where I had contractions all day and the next day on Jill's actual birthday.

I was pretty desperate when I walked in to my forty week apointment. If you had told me at 37 weeks I would have contractions on and off for three weeks we would no longer be friends, even facebook friends. Blocked. I had been praying that the Lord would provide the right midwife to see me. My practice has been expanding rapidly and they have added three new midwives in the last couple months. I like them all, but they are all different.

I ended up with Linda, who listened to me cry and told me I was sweet. She asked about my last birth and then checked me. Yes I was in labor....sort of. Head was in position, cervix was ripe, dialated three centimeters......Did I want her to strip my membranes? This is the point a month ago I would have told you my answer would be no! The less messing around you do the better, that baby will come when she is ready, just leave her alone! But your opinion changes when you are miserable, so instead I answered please, do something, anything to get this baby out!

So she did and then I dialated another centimeter and on the way home I started having contractions. Real ones. Enough that I called Christian and put him on notice and Elizabeth convinced me I probably shouldn't be alone. So I came over to her place and took a huge nap in her bed. I figured if these were not real, this would stall them out.

I woke up still contracting. Enough that Elizabeth let me know I was under no circumstances allowed to drive...she knows me too well I am afraid. So I called Jill who checked out of work early and went and got Christian. Then they picked me up and got our stuff and went to the hospital. Where we discovered no progress had been made but I was in labor. And Anjili (the midwife) wanted to know if I wanted to walk around for a little bit, see where things were and decide from there.

This is the part where I beg her not to send me home. Anything but that, what else could we do? After talking with Anjili, Christian and I took some time to weigh our options. This was perhaps the coolest part. I got all the information from my care giver, and talked it over with my husband, and then I got to make the decision about what I wanted to do. No pressure, no intimidation. Every one was going to support whatever I decided. Really, whether a scheduled C or a waterbirth at 42 weeks, I wish everyone I knew got to be in charge of their birth.

My main concern was avoiding a C-section. Anjili assured me that this was probably not going to happen. And she even told me that if breaking my water didn't move things along as we expected, then she thought I could handle a low dose of pitocin without an epidural. But I knew that I could make peace with an epidural, and being reassured I would most likely not need a c-section I decided to go ahead and get admitted.

Christian, Jill, and apparently Anjili went downstairs and got Chick-fil-a while I hoped my body made progress.We text messaged everyone we could think of to pray that I wouldn't need the pitocin. I spent the next hour or so walking in circles with Jill around the labor and delivery floor hoping that things were moving along. When Anjili came to check I was still at four centimeters. She broke my water and encouraged me to do all the things that get gravity on your side, so I lunged and bounced on the birth ball, did squats and paced the floor. There was a marathon of What Not to Wear on, so that kept me busy too.

The next time Anjili checked I was 5 centimeters and the contractions were clearly picking up. She told me she would come back at around 11. At about 10:15 Jill asked me if I wanted to call Anjili. I said I was going to have at least two more contractions, but in the next contraction I told her to call. I wanted in the tub. And I was going to puke. I hate puking.

This labor was definitely more intense than my last. Anjili came in and didn't bother checking me. I was clearly having this baby, no pitocin needed! I got in the tub and the contractions became more intense. I ooooohhhhhhed as loud as I could. The TV was on and it helped to be able to block out that noise with my noise. It also helped to watch the water vibrate as my sound hit it. I needed visual proof of the power of my noise. A couple times I freaked out, and I said I wanted drugs at least once. Last time I was keeping all of those thoughts I "wasn't supposed to have" to myself. Not this time; I knew that for me when something is said out loud it has a lot less power than the thought I am hiding in my head. So I went for it. I said what I needed to say, and then I turned to look at each person in the room and every single person said I could do this, my midwife, my sister, my husband, the nurse. So I did it. Also, what choice do you have when your midwife refuses to get you out of the tub and give you the drugs, and isn't even being firm about it but smiling telling you no!

In the middle of my biggest contraction I was OOOOOOOHHHHHHing away when I looked dead at Christian and said "this kid better look like me!" then went right back to OOOOOHHHHHH and when everyone started laughing I stopped the OOOOOOHHHHH to inform everyone "I wasn't joking!" Especially at the beginning of her life Juliet resembled her dad. I don't resent that at all, but I figured this one was my turn.

I had some trouble in the pushing last time. So this time I read that chapter about three times and did all the exercises the book recommended. I declared myself an expert pusher. Even as I was going through contractions I declared myself an expert pusher. I will keep that title thank you very much. It took about four pushes to get Priscilla out. I was getting frustrated because I could feel her go back in every time I quit pushing, but was assured I was making good progress. Then, one more good push and they were flipping me around and handing me my sweet baby girl.

Through out this whole pregnancy I knew this baby was relaxed, nothing seemed to phase her. Heck, I think that was the reason she didn't come out when I started contracting. She simply was not bothered by them. Every time they checked her heart beat: 140 exactly. Because nothing phases her. Not even birth. We had to tickle her feet to get her to cry just to make sure her lungs were working. Because not even birth bothered her.

Holding Priscilla for the first time was incredible. I had asked the Lord a couple times to show me what she was like. And every time the Lord answered "she is perfect for your family, exactly what I have for you. And when I held her, I understood. This didn't feel like a new thing, it felt like.....Priscilla, the next piece of my family....like something I didn't even know was missing had been returned to me.

Note to self: Be Nice.

2011-09-25T22:54:00.001-04:00

I am a big believer in self talk. I really believe that the things you tell yourself all day are the things you believe. Even if the things going on inside of your head are things you would never EVER admit to thinking. (Unless of course you are me and voice every internal thought on your blog.)

My notice of self talk started my junior year of college. I had had some trouble memorizing speeches in the past. Not the interpretive events that I thought were fun, the straight up speeches that people think of when you tell them you are on the speech team. Anyway, I had to memorize my persuasion and it was not going well. I just couldn't get it. Until I had a total melt down and then proceeded to tell myself in the hallway of the comm building, out loud: You are a good memorizer, memorization comes easily, you are fully capable of this. And then I was. Same thing happened my first year of teaching. I spent many days driving to work saying out loud: you can do this, they can learn from you, you are going to teach them today. And I did.

So why do I look in the mirror today and think, you are fat and do not look good, body get it together. No. Abby, you get it together. Your body grew a baby. An eight pound baby. And then pushed it out! Now it is feeding that baby with very little issue. And less than a week after the baby came out your body carried you to church in clothes that were not maternity clothes. (Note to currently pregnant women. I have no idea how this happened. I had nothing to do with it!) So I am changing my self talk. Good job body! You rock! Rest and ice cream and lots and lots of water for you.

The Moment

2011-09-23T20:15:00.000-04:00

Sometimes God gives you those moments. The moment, the one where He whispers into your ear, "This is what I had for you. When you doubted me, this is why it was important to trust me. Your ways, your plan Abby would not have gotten you here. With your heart this full, with your family so rich with the gifts of little girls. I wanted to give you these girls because I love you."

Those moments don't always come when you are expecting them. On the way home from the hospital we decided to go get take out. I wanted a bacon cheeseburger (What? My midwife said my iron was low....). So we stopped at Farm Burger where I went in to look at the menu then went back outside so Christian could go in and order the food and then we would bring it home. That was the plan. The line was long so I hopped in the back where I could look at Priscilla and interact with Juliet. That is where the Lord spoke those glorious things to me.

And it was there I was reminded of all of my angst. The angst from college about when and if Christian would propose, the anxiousness I did not surrender when we moved to Atlanta, the angst from my pregnancy with Juliet when I didn't know if she was the twins....who would care for her when I worked....whether I could even manage to be a mom, oh and the angst I lived in so many of these nine months. Which was so bad the entire month of September I couldn't write about anything because I knew how pathetically whiny I would sound. What wasted energy, how silly I have been. The worry brought me nothing but misery.

And I heard the Lord say in the still small voice: "Hang on to this Abby, cling to this moment. Remember why you trust me with the plans I have for you. Your angst is not a part of the plan."

Minutes later Christian returned with the food and started the car......only the car wouldn't start. And we couldn't get a hold of anyone, except a friend who listened to it and said it probably was not the battery, rather something expensive like a belt. And Juliet needed a nap and Priscilla needed fed and she had just taken a giant merconium poo (and if you don't know what that is DO NOT google it). And I was hungry and sore.

So we piled out of the car ate our burgers eventually got a hold of Elizabeth to pick us up.....and it was fine. The kids handled themselves beautifully. The peanut was her usual gregarious self and made friends with everyone around she was making faces in the window to the delight of the family inside. Meanwhile Christian has nicknamed the new addition "the amazing unflappable baby." She snoozed, she gas smiled, she chilled. The owner of the farm burger brought me water, told me to let him know if Juliet needed a snack, and offered to take us home if we were still there when the lunch rush was over.

But Elizabeth and the truck got there at the same time, and while we were sure it was not the battery, he jumped us anyway and we were on our way. No harm, no foul. I am so grateful I didn't waste any angst over that. Perhaps I am learning. I know I am certainly blessed.

Yah-eah!

2011-08-30T20:33:00.000-04:00

So the peanut is officially walking. And when you don't clap for her she walks around clapping for herself. And yelling YEAH! which comes out Yah-ehhh, Yah-ehhh!

I hope this is not a phase. I hope she always claps for herself. And why not? Why not celebrate your victories, be impressed with something you just learned how to do? So it is something that most people do and everyone expected her to do it. So what? She didn't do it before and now she does. And that is worth celebrating!

When do we stop doing this, being impressed with our own ability? Do we learn it in school, or as teenagers? Why not celebrate our own personal victories, no matter how ordinary? So what if everyone else is already doing it, now you are too! You've joined that party! Good for you!

Recently in my life, I've started blogging again (YEAH!), One of my students told me they noticed I was trying to make learning fun (YEAH!), Christian with the help of Thomas fixed the Volvo without ever having to take it to a professional (YEAH!), I've been reading my Bible more regularly (YEAH!)

What is going on with you that you should be cheering about? (That isn't rhetorical, I really want to know!)

A Birth Story

2011-08-28T20:07:00.000-04:00

DISCLAIMER: I think that birth stories are important. I know they have recently become maybe a little cliche. I also know that I am so so blessed to have a natural non-medicated birth. That while some of it was my planning and desire, ultimately (like so much if motherhood) it was by the grace of God that I could have the experience I had.

On Wednesday, April 28 I was pretty sure my water had broke. Every time I stood up it felt like I had wet my pants. So I googled this (hey, it is what I do....) and found that in some cases this probably meant I had sprung a leak. I called my sisters and my mom to let them know that I thought my water was leaking and I had an appointment that afternoon and I was sure we would have the baby today.........Except I didn't. My midwife checked and whatever was leaking wasn't my water, so I went back home and had to call everyone to say false alarm. Did you know there is a condition called hydra-rhea where your pregnant body is retaining so much water your body simply can't take it anymore and it leaks out? Sometimes down your leg while you are standing in a high school library media center causing the librarian media specialist to FREAK OUT? I had an occasional contraction here and there but they would subside.

Friday Christian and I met Jill and Calvin at the Savage pizza. We were trying to find the best pizza in Atlanta, it was good but not the best. After dinner we went back to our house to play wii and hang out. I was having strong enough contractions that I called the midwife. She told me to try to get some sleep. How the heck was I supposed to go to sleep? I should have trusted my ability to sleep through any situation. I did fall asleep as Calvin and Christian continued to play Mario Kart. Occasionally, Christian would check on me. The guys went to sleep at about four in the morning and I woke up at 8 or so.

Jill and Calvin had spent the night expecting that I would want to go to the hospital any minute. Jill and I went for a walk in the hopes that that would really get the contractions going, and they did get stronger as I walked around my neighborhood. We may have broken into the back door of a house for sale around the corner. Then we headed home because I was uncomfortable enough that I thought I should go home. So we walked home. We went in the back door, and there sitting on my tree that shades my deck there was a very large owl.

This owl was not deterred by my sisters very large dog. He looked straight at us, and Jill and I both immediately recognized as something more than an owl. I had been receiving a word from God that I was going to have twins, boy twins. I knew I would come home from the hospital with either 2 boys, or the girl who showed on the ultrasound. The owl reminded me that God was in charge. That He knew what was coming.

After breakfast, Jill and Calvin went to go get some Saturday errands done while we went to the hospital, we would call Jill when it was time. I went into the hospital they put me and Christian in a room and had me fill out my own paperwork. Apparently, I had plenty of time. They didn't check me or anything, but I apparently was showing very early according to my face. So I filled out the paperwork and waited in the room, Christian was counting through the contractions for me at this point. But it still wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

So the nurse came in and she was chatty, and I am chatty, and so we were chatting, till she checked me. She looked at me and asked "Honey, are you sure you are okay?" (She was very southern.) and when I said yeah she responded "Honey, I am so proud of you! You are at 7 centimeters!" I started laughing and made some phone calls. I wanted to let people know I was for sure in labor this time. We also called Jill to tell her to get back to the hospital. At this point I was still trying to chat up the intake nurse (I really, really liked her. And I talk when I am nervous, or excited, or doing something new, or awake.) and she finally had to cut me off, explaining that at seven centimeters I needed to get my midwife and move to an actual delivery room pronto. But not so many rooms were available right this second, and they were hoping for a big one since I was asking a for a tub.

My delivery nurse came in, looked at my face, looked at the contraction charts, didn't believe the first nurse that I was in fact seven centimeters, and asked if she could check me. She was not as encouraging or as optimistic. I knew immediately I didn't like her. I wanted a cheerleader and she was more of a pragmatist. What I really wanted was to keep the first nurse. I found out later that I could have asked for another nurse, that apparently you can trade? Who knew. Now you know.

I had been hooked up to a monitor this whole time. The baby has to get some kind of awake and moving reading for a certain amount of time before they will let you get into the water. I wanted in the water. Margaret, my midwife, walked into the room, looked at the test and tossed me some ice water and twenty minutes later I was ready to roll.

I spent the next hour or so slung over the tub squatting on my knees. I was doing really well moaning through the contractions as long as I kept my tones open and low. The second I started panicking was the second my tone would rise. Christian spent a lot of the contractions chanting at me looooooooow loooooooow looooooooow while pointing his finger down. It helped a lot.

When transition came I completely freaked. I felt helpless and that I COULD NOT do this. The fear took over. My midwife flipped me over when she realized that Christian and Jill were unable to talk me down this time. "What are you afraid of?" she asked me. We went through everything, the pain, no, being a mom, no. Well then if you aren't afraid of anything then you can get rid of the fear. And I did. The other thing that helped me in transition was the other birth stories that had been shared with me. The first time my cousin Kim was giving birth she got up and started re-packing her bag when she hit transition. The feeling of "I have to get out of here!" Was so great that she tried to leave, insisting she was not in fact going to have that baby. That was exactly how I felt. And having an anecdote of how someone else felt and reacted reminded me that the feelings I were having were normal. This is what was supposed to happen.

Pushing took longer than my midwife expected, but about an hour later I felt the shoulders slip out and exclaimed "that's a baby." And it was. My baby, the girl I knew that God wanted to give me first. And every single story that you have ever heard about how that moment is magical, beyond anything you could ever experience presents itself as true.

And then your body gives you this awesome euphoria and you don't sleep for hours because you are too entranced by this perfect thing, that God gave you. You are too busy staring at her.

Maybe I can do this again.....

Sisterhood of the traveling....sisterhood

2011-08-25T13:59:00.000-04:00

This past weekend Jill moved into my neighborhood! Her and Calvin closed on a sweet house with a seriously sweet price in a great little neighborhood ( I may be partial...) YEAH! We are super excited to have her and she has promised not to move again in a year and a half and I have promised to not be eight months pregnant if she does move in a year and a half (please Lord!). Jill and Calvin moved to Atlanta about a month before I was due with the Peanut.

The interesting thing to first, Jill moving to Atlanta, and second, my serious joy that she lives 1.4 miles from my home is there was a time growing up where this did not seem likely. We couldn't be in the same 170 person marching band marching in completely different sections that never actually had to talk to each other and not have a couple of yelling matches (two that I recall).

Recently I read a line about mother hood. This mom was lamenting the fact that her family was done growing, and she remained daughterless. She described the mother daughter relationship as uniquely complicated. I was taken off guard. I don't think of my relationship with my mom as complicated. Maybe I am just part of a ridiculously lucky minority, but I just hope I can do as good of a job as she did. I always felt (and still feel) loved and accepted. I know my mom is always rooting for me. There were no big battles to allow me my adulthood. It just was.

But sisters. Those were complicated for me. I wanted to be just like my sisters and at the exact same time completely different. I sometimes resented being "The third France" but know I would have been heart broken had I not been linked to the previous two.

I find myself thinking about sisters a lot lately. I am about to have a pair of them in my home after all. I find myself fretting over what to buy new just for the new baby and what is it okay to share? I want to make sure that the little one knows she was wanted and special and got everything her sister did. I want the big one to know she is wanted and special and not being replaced. And I want them to share well. And each have special things to pass down to their daughters but still have enough that mostly belongs to everybody.

I think I am trying too hard to control the stuff because it is the only thing I can control. I cannot control the Peanut's reaction to her sister, or the temperament of the new baby. I cannot control the ways they will inevitably attempt to torture each other or the hurt they may inflict. I cannot control whether or not they will think of each other as their best friends as adults, like I think of my sisters, but I can hope. And I do.

I sometimes worry that I will put too much pressure on them, to be best of friends from day one. I need to remember it takes time. I didn't even choose my own sisters as my maids of honor (though I regret that now) that somewhere along the way push came to shove and it occurred to me that the people who understand me best are the ones who were raised in the same house as me. God built in my adult best friends, it is an amazing gift. I pray that the same will be true for my girls.

Mixed Feelings

2011-08-24T10:57:00.000-04:00

I have been having some mixed feelings about welcoming this new baby recently. I know, I know, I am considered full term so really.....it is kind of late for all of that. She could literally come at any moment, and medically speaking that would be just fine. But me? In the spring I was all, "I could have this baby tomorrow, and I wouldn't need to do anything! Yeah for another girl!" and now I am all "I could have this baby tomorrow and I wouldn't have done anything! AAAAH I am having another baby!"

Yesterday I did manage to go to Target and get a diaper bag that is big enough for two kids, and a sizing stuffed animal for Priscilla. I don't want to make the Peanut share her bear. Teddy is the only thing she seems genuinely attached to. So now there are just a few things that are on my MUST DO list. They are not things like get the newborn clothes in order or set up the new crib and pack and play upstairs so the baby has some places to sleep. I guess I figure if I don't do that someone else will.

I did find out yesterday I have to take the water birth class again, so that sounds like a heck of a Friday night! (I really want to bring a flask....just to see what would happen.....). I suppose I should be grateful North Fulton had an opening this Friday. Because for a minute there last night it looked like if I wanted a water birth, it was likely to happen only in my own tub....and my midwives don't make house calls. But as is so often the case with me I was freaking out about one things because I did not want to deal with the other.

Then I read this amazing post and suddenly I understood what I was really freaking out about. My family is about to change. Forever. And that is scary, and a little sad. The weeks before my wedding I cried a lot more than I thought I would. But looking back it made sense. I knew this would be the last time I would celebrate Christmas with the family I had always celebrated with. I would no longer be calling the house I grew up in, home. I no longer claimed exclusive rights to my bedroom, because it wasn't anymore. My bedroom, my life, my family would now be the one I shared with my husband, not the one my parents provided for me. My new life was what the Lord had for me, and I am so grateful He did. But the old one was no more, and sometimes, even when it is good change, change is sad.

The Lord allows for that. Besides Ecclesiastes, where I am assured there is a time for my sadness, many times the psalmists mourn and grieve. So here it is. While I am thrilled to meet this perfect little girl who the Lord has picked out exactly for our family, I am sad. I am sad that Juliet will no longer be the baby. I am sad that there will be parts of her journey that I will miss because I will be focused on her sister. I am wistful that this marks the Peanut as a little girl who is quickly leaving her babyhood behind. That while she will always be my baby, she will no longer be the baby. And while I know how very amazing the sister relationship can be, I am a little sad that Juliet and Priscilla will not always share their secrets with me. They will have each other to run to, it may not always be Mommy who best soothes those bumps and bruises. Sisters only is an important creed. I know. I have said it....to my mom. I am so glad Juliet will get to be the big sister. And I know that God has designed her to fill that role. But I am sad that that means that she is growing up, in a way that is more concrete to me than weaning, or a first birthday, becoming a big sister is a line in the sand.

Lately she has been cuddling more. The Peanut likes to lift up my shirt, pat my belly and say "baby, baby" (granted she also does this with Christian so maybe it isn't as impressive as it sounds.) She likes to cuddle with my bump, wrap her arms around the sides, her torso around the top and rest her head on her sister. I wonder if she knows this time where she does not have to wait her turn is coming to an end. She still is not walking, she could, just no interest. It is as though she is reminding me that she is still a baby, still needs me to hold her. I do feel guilty changing her existence like this. With little warning and no input from her, her family will be altered. Another little person is coming to live at our house......permanently. How will this change her?

Ultimately I know that this is what the Lord wants. Not just for me, but for my daughters. Both of them. And I trust His judgement infinitely more than my fears.

How do you ask?

2011-08-19T14:06:00.000-04:00

I wish I knew why I struggle with asking....but I do. I really struggle with asking for stuff. I don't like to feel like I am bothering anyone. In my head I convince myself that the thing that I want or need is some huge inconvenience to the person I am asking. And even if I really want it or kinda need it I really hate asking. Which is ridiculous I know, because I would always tell a friend: Ask! what is it going to hurt? Let people bless you!

But me? No way. I think it must be a self esteem issue....or maybe some leftover baggage from the fibromyalgia. Either way I want to raise my daughters to speak up for themselves and feel like the Lord has made them and want them to not just have what they need, but get the things they want too. Not that they deserve it, but because they are the daughters of a king who wants to bless them.

But this week I have made some strides. I got assigned a parking space that was quite a bit further from the building than another open parking space. And I this baby has put some serious precious on my pelvis, so a couple times a week, every single step hurts. So.....I went to the parking guru and asked her for a closer spot. I know it seems like it isn't a big deal. Especially because I so obviously am pregnant and I feel like if you saw me waddling around you would know that walking is currently taking a serious effort. But for me, it was a big deal. I got really nervous about asking. But I did, and I didn't back down when she asked if it was that much closer. Instead I rubbed my monstrosity of a belly and gave her sad eyes. Because it IS important to me right now. And I got my spot, no big deal! It seriously took a less than two minutes. But I did not like having to ask.

I have been praying recently for a camera. Not a fancy SLR or anything, but just a high quality point and shoot that we can take pictures with. I managed to kill ours by getting it wet at Friends Lake at the beginning of our vacation. With baby two coming in 30 some odd days (wait, what? I NEED MORE TIME!) and the Peanut changing so often, now is not the time to be without a camera. Could you imagine in 15 years when I have at least a picture a day for the first few months of the one daughter and none of the other? No good. Well, ask and you shall receive. Somehow I mentioned that we needed a new camera on my way home and my awesome carpool buddy said something like, Oh I think I have an extra. 12 mega pixels and 5 times zoom later I am the proud owner of a new free camera. Thank you Megan! Thank you Jesus!

But now I have to ask someone to take my new camera and shoot some pictures. I don't want anything fancy. Just some shots of me and Juliet and Christian interacting. The ones of just Juliet and Christian I can do. Vice versa for Juliet and me. I suppose I should take some maternity shots since I had them done with Juliet....and because I look much better this time around. But the thought of asking one of my friends to take these pictures feels like a REALLY BIG DEAL. Even though if I put myself in the position of being asked I would think it would be really fun. And I am talking about maybe 20 minutes or so of picture taking. And yet....

I am learning that God wants us to ask for things, rather than simply providing before we ask, because He wants us to understand that He thinks we are worth blessing. That He values us. Not just so we will understand our dependence on Him. I am glad He is patient with me. God, I'm working on it.

Whats up with the Peanut?

2011-08-17T14:02:00.000-04:00

A lot happens in a month when your kid has only had 15 of them. I read somewhere that there are different types of mom, and you shouldn't feel terrible if exclaiming of itty-bitty baby toes and waiting in line to hold the youngest member of your extended family isn't your gig you shouldn't sweat it. Not everyone is ALL ABOUT BABIES! I seem to fall into this camp. This summer I feel like the Peanuts personality is really starting to show through and she is so, so funny! She really is quite a ham. If she finds out something will make you laugh or clap for her, get ready to see it repeatedly. Her new tricks include:

-Standing up all on her own. She then proceeds to clap for herself and yell "Ya-ehhh!" If you don't join the cheering the first time she will cheer louder until you join in.

-Singing the EIEIO part whenever Old MacDonald is sung or played. If she wants to you to sing it because nothing else is going on she will look at you and repeat EIEIO until you figure it out and start filling that farm.

-Using many things as a walker so she can tool around the house but NOT walk. She seems to be adamant about that not walking thing......

-Counting to three, and leaping on top of you at three (her dad taught her this one). If you don't brace to catch her or hold out your arms she will repeat two. twooooo. TWOOO until you comply

-And the trick I am not a fan of... when things aren't going her way she pitches quite an impressive fit. She throws herself on the ground and bangs her hands and head on the ground screaming. At church we tried to ignore it so she rolled until she was hitting Christian's shoe and proceeded in the screaming.

Over all it has just been really fun to be her mom lately. I am beginning to see what the Bible is talking about when it says that God delights in His children. I know all this stuff that the Peanut is doing is developmentally appropriate. But I can't help but think because she can point at the cheese dip and yell mmmmm MMMMM that my child is not only the cutest thing in all of Atlanta, but also a communication genius.

I'm back! and talking about love?

2011-08-16T21:34:00.000-04:00

Sorry for the unannounced hiatus. Apparently between the summer school, the just over one year old, and the growing a baby, I needed a break. So, I took one. Next time I hope to at least actively decide instead of spending a month promising myself I will write tomorrow.

Something this week really caught my eye. Don Miller, a Christian writer and blogger, wrote a 2 part series about how to write your love story. I wasn't a fan. Rachel Held Evans, a Christian writer and blogger disagreed with him, in a post I loved. Since then Don Miller has taken down his posts and issued an apology. I have always had a lot of respect for him as a writer, but never more than I do know. He really and truly exudes grace and truth....even when he gets it wrong. Rachel Held Evans is quickly becoming "my girl". Everything she writes I love and I can't wait till her new book is out!

Anyway, this whole dust up was about the incredibly controversial subject of....love stories. Right, not something I think of as controversial either. But it did get me thinking about love stories, how God writes them, why does he write them, who is the star etc. I was a teenager when the book "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" came out. And suddenly, every youth group was doing a series on courting vs. dating, love, purity. And every Christian author had something to say about Godly love stories and also how to not have sex outside of marriage. In fact, one summer we talked so much about what the Bible has to say about sex I remember telling my youth group leader if we continued to talk about NOT having sex and NOT thinking about sex I would start having it because all this talk about not having it made me think about it a whole lot more than I normally did. I don't know how well that went over, but really how much can possibly be said about how to keep your pants on?

But love, and love stories....I think there may be more to say on that. I have read more than one book on Christian dating that basically says the man needs to make all the moves, and the woman needs to wait...and wait... and don't say anything and wait. It is the man's adventure and he invites the woman to join him.

Surprise, surprise I never really followed those rules. I don't know....I guess it was just the whole waiting thing. I wasn't great at. Also, the not saying anything. I am terrible at that. Though I didn't ascribe to this whole thing, I had an opportunity to watch this play out a lot in college. I was involved in a major campus ministry that supported this model. Plus, I had an absolutely adorable roommate who fit more easily into this romantic mold than I did. And quite a few boys wanted to date her. So....every once in a while (but DEFINITELY more than once a semester, usually more than twice) a boy would show up to our room and I would make myself scarce because the boy would want to DEFINE THE RELATIONSHIP, or DTR. One of two things would happen. Either my roommate would be totally taken off guard and have to let this poor boy down gently, or she would ask for the opportunity to get to know the boy better and his feeling would be all hurt because he had really wanted to date my roommate and she just didn't know him well enough to say "Yes! I want to be your girlfriend." The other thing it did was encourage girls to pine away for whichever random boy caught her eye. She would build this boy up in her head as her perfect guy and maybe just maybe he would show up at the door one day and "define the relationship." On the occasion that the boy DID show up....the relationship was a disappointment because the girl was into the boy in her head and not the boy that actually existed.

It just all seemed so...confusing...cloak and dagger in a way. It also leaves the poor girl with no agency while the poor boy has to figure out if this could potentially be marriage material when he didn't even know if he liked eating pizza with her. It seemed to confusing to me. Not that this method hasn't worked for thousands of couples. I am just not a big fan.

Instead I have started to think that there is one great love story. The love story between God and man, creator and creation, Redeemer and me. A person who needed (and needs) desperately to be redeemed. And yes, God made the first move, but I responded. And love stories between two people are as unique as the love stories people have about how they met Jesus. Sometimes God shows up and says "I love you, love me" and you do. Sometimes God has been in your life forever, always being there for you until one day you wake up and realize He is who you have been looking for all along. Most times God shows up right when you are ready to be with Him.

However it starts, and at whatever pace. True Christian romances are all uniquely the same: God grows two people in a way that suits both the person and the partner. If you let Him, Christ uses all those imperfections you once thought of as impossible to get around to serve another person, sometimes it makes you uniquely qualified to love each other. God is a romantic and a pursuer of the church. And our love stories point to that.

This girl is PREGNANT

2011-07-13T00:00:00.000-04:00

It is 11:21 I am totally beat, everyone else in my house is asleep and I am watching yet another episode of Army Wives on Netflix streaming. Ridiculous.....a little. But I have been having so much trouble sleeping I figure, what the heck. May as well stay awake. I am all of a sudden totally cranky about....well....everything. I am sure the heat doesn't help. It is stinking hot here in July. No wonder we usually leave. I walked three houses down and back, and couldn't figure out if I was sweating or if the humidity was forming itself into droplets on my skin. I have eaten an inordinate amount of popsicles and ice treats, and cannot for the life of me find a red white and blue bomb in this city. Seriously. No where. I have been looking since June.

But the worst part is my brain. I feel like I can't concentrate on anything. At all. I can't read the things I normally would. Articles that I am really super interested in, halfway through I completely loose interest. And after about a year of reading mommy-blogs non-stop I could about scream before I read more advice about doula's or poop. Even though I think both of those things are very very important. And I have been guilty of blogging about the latter. So I am aware I am a total hypocrite. But I can't read anything too dense because I completely flake out. I am trying to follow the Atlanta Public School cheating scandal, and I will literally forget what the heck I am reading when I am half way done with it. That isn't like me, and yet that has totally been me.

Tomorrow I am having lunch with the women in my department and I am sure they will all be lovely and gracious. I just hope I don't sound like a complete idiot.....or talk too much "mom talk".....or shove my foot in my mouth. Okay, the last one is probably inevitable, so not too hard.

On Love and Leadership OR Happy (Belated) Birthday Hubby: You're a good one!

2011-07-11T01:02:00.000-04:00

It was Christian's birthday Thursday! Elizabeth took Juliet (starting Wednesday night! You're the best girl. The best!) and we slept in. Then we went out to lunch and went to the grocery store. So exciting I know. But it was the perfect day. We then picked up the Peanut and went to go get ice cream. Finally we came home and Christian went to go play poker. It doesn't sound like much, but Christian and I have come to discover that we are basic kind of people. Simple pleasures work for us. (And the sleeping in, oh the sleeping in!)

But that isn't exactly what I have been meaning to blog about. I have been meaning to blog about how lucky I am to have Christian's leadership in my life. Specifically, his spiritual leadership. I know that there are some women who desire to be in a relationship where they trust their man and he makes the decisions. And I get that in theory...I guess. Who am I kidding, I don't get it, but to each their own I suppose.

But I think that marriage is a lot like raising kids that it looks different for everyone and I say if it works for you (and the Bible doesn't say bad idea) do it. And for us these are some things I have been batting around. I am not saying this is the case for everyone; I am saying this is the case for me.

I am not the easiest person to lead, by anyone. And for Christian....well I think it may feel to him as though he has a cat on a leash. I certainly know that I am pulling sometimes just because I feel like it, not because I have a good reason. But for me I know that I can follow Christian because he loves me so well.

Sometimes I have crazy ideas. Sometimes they are good (the redecoration in the bedroom is shaping up very nicely, and if I get this craigslist dresser under $100), but occasionally I get ahead of myself. When we moved in I really wanted to get chickens. Fresh eggs! They can eat our garbage! Our backyard is huge! It will be sort of fun and eccentric and cost effective! Christian knew better. He was raised around farms. Chickens smell bad, and I can barely keep up with the less than half of the housework that is my responsibility. Now with two under two on the way.....boy am I glad I don't have to go collect eggs. Bending over to get them sounds torturous right now all the while trying to keep the Peanut from plucking feathers out by the fistful and/or not eating the chicken poop....good Lord. (Although the blog fodder would have been priceless....). It was a bad idea.

And when Christian said as much, I was able to listen because he loves me. He consistently has my best interests at heart. Dog because we were new in town and he was gone almost every weekend, okay. Chickens, no. Redecorating, do what I want. He mostly lets me do what I want, so when he says "bad idea" I trust it is one. Plus, it goes both ways. If I am really not down with Christian's plans, he holds off. He hears me. Even when we can't come to an agreement, which is very rarely. I know that I have been heard and my best interests are taken into consideration.

My department head used to love her students into submission. It was unreal. I watched it happen and I still have no clue how she did it. I guess she raised her voice on occasion, but really and truly they believed that she had their best interests at heart and thus they did what she asked.

The best parenting book I have read talks a lot about that. That kids respond to you loving them really well. And setting up loving boundaries is a good thing. Leading kids as parents means setting up situations where it is safe for kids to be them...and sometimes to fail. There wasn't a whole lot of rebelling going on in the house I grew up in. Mostly because we believed that the "No's" weren't arbitrary. We knew our parents wanted what was best for us, and if it wasn't going to hurt us they generally went with "okay".

When I was in Bible study in college one of my leaders called God's boundaries the "electric fence of love". God leads us by loving us. His boundaries are there for a reason, and He only has them because He care about our well being. And sometimes we decide something is a good thing that....well...isn't. Like chickens in the backyard or running my mouth just because I am mad.

When you not only know, but see consistently over time that someone loves you and always has your best interest at heart......it makes following a lot easier.

Today is Red and White day

2011-07-07T22:49:00.000-04:00

Every Thursday is Red and White day, all summer at Camp Ray Bird henceforth: CRB (except for discipleship week ....we'll get to that.) The day where the campers learn that Jesus Christ died and rose from the dead for the forgiveness of their sins. They learned about sin on dark day, Wednesday. Gold day is Tuesday, when they learn of the goodness of God, and Green day is Friday, when the campers learn how to grow in the Lord. (If you read your Bible and pray every day then you'll grow, grow, grow.)

Christian and I worked at Camp Ray Bird the summer before we moved to Atlanta (Summer 2006). We had some friends on the speech team who encouraged us to get summer jobs there, so we thought "what the heck." I spent the summer answering phones and messing up registration (seriously....talk about learning about God's grace...) while Christian led activities that the counselors took their campers to. A job you don't normally need a masters degree for (you don't usually need to be old enough to vote....but Christian managed to fit right in.) What goes on is so much more than the sum of the stuff that everyone does there.

The basics are this. Around a thousand kids come through CRB every summer. Almost every single kid qualifies for a reduced fee. $30 for the week. The whole week, overnight, 3 meals and 2 snacks a day, and a t-shirt if they memorize all of their Bible verses. Not to mention swimming everyday, daily activities, crafts, the whole summer camp experience. From where I sit that is less than VBS at some churches, and all the kids eat there is a themed snack.

But the biggest piece is this. The kids are loved at CRB. The counselors, the kitchen staff, the lifeguards, the 16 year olds whose job it is to put the worm on the hook for the 7 year old girls, every single person is there to love campers, even if that means discreetly picking up wet sleeping bags and having them laundered before "horizontal hour." Every worker believes it is their job to love the kids in whatever way they can.Even if it means cleaning toilets or roping off the field for games later that night.

And the kids, even the little ones, can't leave without understanding who Jesus is and exactly how much God loves them. I'm not saying it fixes all their problems or anything, poverty is a beast for sure. But for a week, one week, kids who otherwise wouldn't get the opportunity, get to do summer. Not sit in front of the TV all day because it is too hot or not safe enough in their neighborhood to go outside.There is no public pool in South Bend, so for most of the campers their week at camp is the only week they swim.

Christian and I feel so, so blessed to have been witness to what goes on there, to be able to participate in the ministry. This is the first year we won't be able to visit, even for a weekend. The timing of it all just didn't pan out. I'm praying for the ministry this summer. And praying that the staff can see beyond the grueling hours and incessant needs of the campers to the investment they are making in the name of the Lord. It gets hard sometimes.

And if you feel so called...even if it is just a couple bucks, feel free to click the pay pal button on the Camp Ray Bird website. I worked in the office, and can honestly tell you that NO ONE can stretch a dollar like the CRB staff. I've got details if you want them. Seriously, even 5 bucks will pay for bait for fishing for a week. And by all means put them on your prayer list!

Privilege

2011-07-05T17:17:00.000-04:00

Privilege, it seems like the more I avoid writing on something the more I am bombarded with the issue. And privilege is what I have been thinking a lot about lately. It started with the big school move (detailed here). But then I started reflecting on my birth experience to get myself prepped for the next one (post to come soon....I hope) and then there was some sort of public twitter blogger-word-fight about poverty tourism surrounding Heather Armstrong. One of my favorite bloggers, Katie Granju, wrote about the whole thing as did mom-101 and many, many others. And for me it all boils down to privilege, and what responsibility (if any) does privilege come with?

What is privilege? Who decides who is and who isn't? Is it always about money? I feel like I am stepping into a whole pile of stuff that is too deep for me to surf through. But it is what is going on with me, in my life. So here goes nothing.

I realized that I was resenting my new students for the privilege that they have. Their school is beautiful and well maintained. No graffiti in the bathroom stalls, always toilet paper. 20 different AP possibilities to choose from. Every sport imaginable, (including a quidditch club). And as a teacher if I need or want something for my classroom? I simply attach the need to my syllabus and the students have the resources to get it for me. When I say resources, I don't just mean money. They have parents who value education and have the time to be supportive, transportation to the store, an office supply store in their neighborhood. All of the things that set the kids up to succeed. And you know what? It isn't their fault they have all of those things. And it isn't their fault that my old students didn't have all of those things.

But mostly God held up a mirror and said, "Really Abby, a 27 year old able bodied white woman in America, raised in a Christian two parent home.You are going to hold people's privilege against them?" Yeah, rich, I know. I am privileged. As a woman I was born in a place where I didn't have to live in a fear of my womanhood, it didn't equal a death sentence or a mandatory marriage at 15. I was entitled to a free education until I was 18. And the blessings the Lord bestowed on my family growing up......I could write forever and not get everything down. And yet, I was looking at these kids and blaming them. For all that is unjust in this world. Which isn't fair.

Privilege isn't fair. Some people are born with more than others. And if your in the more category (and if you are reading this, you probably are) what does that mean? What responsibility do we have? This year I hope to teach my students about people who have less than they do. People without safe homes or clean drinking water. I want to inspire them to use the things they have access to to make someone else's life better. And I want them to understand that just because you recognize your privilege, doesn't mean you are saying that you and your parents aren't working hard. It just means you were also blessed.There is no shame in that. But there needs to be some sort of realization that some people work just as hard as you, harder than you and still come up short.

That is why I respect Heather Armstrong so much. She acknowledges her privilege. Recognizes that in a lot of ways she is just really really lucky. And she is using her position as the most successful blogger on the block to benefit other people. People who otherwise I would never think or hear about. That is what I want to do with my students. Inspire them to use their privilege for good.

What have you done for ME lately?

2011-07-02T20:04:00.000-04:00

We took the two oldest of the Grimes clan (remember, we kiddo swap with them) with us to the drive-in on Wednesday. We may have used the borrowed trucks bed as a giant sized kiddie corral. It was fun. We saw Cars 2 and I was reminded that when we first started watching the kids the oldest (we'll call him J) was always telling us how cool Lightning McQueen was. Only he used the t sound for the c sound and thus was always telling us how tool Lightning MtTween was. It was hilarious. He now pronounces everything correctly and also thoroughly enjoyed the movie. Impressively he stayed up for the whole thing.

On the way home the girls were conked out, but J wanted to know where his youngest brother (S) was and if he would be at the house. I told J that S would be staying the night with a friend of mommy's. But I couldn't remember the name of said friend and was trying to get J to understand. So I asked if he remembered the church he went to with mommy before they moved, the one they still go to with Grandpa and Nanny. But I wasn't speaking his language. Because of the every other weekend custody agreement, the kids have 2 churches that are "their church." But it all got confused when I was using my labels. J let me know how he keeps track by asking me, "Do you mean the doughnut church, or the lollipop church?" At 1027, J gets doughnuts. At his other church, the kids get lollipops. It is a great way to keep the churches straight in a 5 year old mind. I have since started using those labels.

Here is the thing though. I realized I do this too. I label the church, my neighborhood, my school and for me especially my relationships based on what I am getting out of them. That is my fun friend, that is my mom-advice friend, that is my God friend, and sometimes I think, that friend isn't getting me anything.....why is she in my life again? Why go to the doughnut church if the doughnuts have stopped coming? Why go to the lollipop church if the candy counter is closed?

I'm not saying it isn't important to make sure we are being fed. Or that we shouldn't have our needs met by the church, or the relationships we participate in. I am just saying.....Maybe my primary label of people shouldn't be all about what they can get me.

Man, I was intending this post to be light. And here I go exposing my dirty under-belly for all the internet to see.....

My pain ain't your pain

2011-06-30T23:31:00.001-04:00

In less than three months I am going to give birth again.....and I am PUMPED. I know that may sound totally bizarre to some. I know women who have only had one child that cite child birth as the main reason they didn't have another. It is always something along the lines of making a deal with God that if the epidural worked they would NEVER get themselves in that position again.But for me it wasn't like that.

Maybe it was because I had an AWESOME book that is now out of print (I looked into getting it for a friend, but $68, ouch). Maybe it is because I have a high pain tolerance after years of fibromyalgia. Maybe it is because I know LOTS of women who gave birth sans pain meds and are really positive about their birth experiences. But for me birthing babies is a little like what people describe in running marathons. Yes, it hurts, yes there are moments when I feel like I cannot do it. But then you keep going and at the end it is AWESOME and you feel so accomplished, and the natural high that your body gives you.........I don't have anything to compare it to, but I am told that a high like that is very expensive and can have some weird side effects.

But not every woman comes into the hospital laughing about 6 or 7 centimeters. The nurses were certainly surprised. And not every woman had all the awesome opportunities and support I had. And pain is a really. really, personal thing. Like so personal that we can never experience each others. We can both stick our thumb in the exact same place and get hit by the exact same hammer at the exact same force, and yet....it could very well not be the same pain. Who knows. We'll never know. Maybe your thumb is super sensitive. Maybe you literally have more pain receptors than I do (people don't have the same amount, isn't that crazy?)Maybe my nerves over-react to certain stimuli. It isn't the same. It never will be.

When you have a muscle disorder for as long as I did, you start thinking about pain, reading about it. The studies about chronic pain are beyond depressing. You actually lose IQ points if you are in chronic pain long enough. You wonder how a body that looks healthy can be in that much pain. You literally forget the sensation of "pain free." I started to wonder about the pain scale at the hospital. "On a scale of one to ten..." At my worst I calculated that I walked around everyday with what I would describe as a 6.....so what did that mean, was 6 my new zero? Did my scale now go from 6-16 while yours capped at 10? Could I feel more pain than you......like my body had somehow gotten good at it? Would I even notice a 2, or would that now seem like relief. Like a 2 for me would now be like you with an Oxycotin?

It was all so strange to think about. We can talk about it, and describe and calculate and attempt to define. But we can't ever experience someone else's pain. And we shouldn't pretend that we do. I know what it is like to be told it can't possibly hurt that bad when you are doing everything you can not to sob uncontrollably and scream the exploitive that rhymes with duck. So do you need an epidural. I don't know. I'm not you, I can't actually feel your pain.

I think spiritual-emotional pain is a lot like physical pain. For whatever reason some things that seem the same from the outside, break ups, parental abandonment, heck even a harsh word don't always hit the same spot in the same way. We certainly don't feel them in the same way. I have two sisters, and Emily (the oldest) seems to be built less sensitive than I am. Things don't hit her in the same way. But when I call her crying because....oh who knows why, but my feelings are hurt again.....she doesn't tell me that it doesn't hurt, that I shouldn't be crying. She acknowledges my pain and helps me figure out how to move on.

I however, am often not so gracious. When people are talking about what a difficult time they are having I sometimes am rolling my eyes internally. I want to shout "GET OVER IT! YOU DON'T HAVE PROBLEMS!" But they do. They are hurting, their spiritual nerves are shot. Maybe I would rate their pain as a 2 but I am not the one who is experiencing it. Maybe it is an 8. I wouldn't know. Often times people are hollowing because there was already a bruise there, you know? I will just have to trust them and hear them and be a little more empathetic. Because your pain, ain't my pain.

Discipline.....

2011-06-27T21:55:00.000-04:00

I don't think you can be a disciple without discipline. There are so many awesome examples of disciplined people in my life (my mom's cup of tea with her Bible and prayer journal open at "her place" at the breakfast table are a firm mental picture in my head.) But, it is something I struggle with, and something I am really struggling with when it comes to writing, I have quite a few projects on my plate right now. Any suggestions? I need help!

Saved, Healed, and Delivered Awesome

2011-06-26T14:10:00.001-04:00

Well I am home in Toledo.

I left Toledo Saved. I return home saved healed and delivered. GSA was a life changer. I will be telling you more about it in days to come, for now I repeat the words of a man that walked the same streets and cornfields as I did when a boy and who went to be with the Lord at a young age after blessing the Church and the World with these words. "My God is an awesome God He reigns from Heaven above with wisdom POWER and Love my God is an Awesome God" Richy Mullins.

Won't you be my neighbor?

2011-06-24T11:19:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I think modern christians have the tendency to complicate some issues. We have, I love my neighbor month at 1027 church, which I love. We often explore the issue of who exactly our neighbor is. And I have a book on my kindle that I am slowly working my way through that argues that now that we are in a digital age and aware of problems we never would have been aware of back in the day, we have a larger group we need to be calling neighbor. Google expands our virtual neighborhood.

But you know who else is my neighbor....um.....my neighbors. The people who actually live in my neighborhood, in the houses next to mine. Yeah, them. A few weeks ago someone knocked on my door and wanted jumper cables. I could do that. Heck, he didn't even need me to hook 'em up, just go to my car and get them. I almost didn't look because I didn't feel like it. But I did, which is good since I would have had to admit it right here if I hadn't. Wow, that would've sucked.

Tomorrow I have the opportunity to love on my actual neighbors in my actual neighborhood. I am super excited. I have this opportunity because my neighbor Brooke (the one who spiffied my blog up) goes to the neighborhood meetings and helps with passing out the neighborhood letter is in the know. She heard there was a kids carnival being put on by a church in the neighborhood and they needed a face painter. She signed me up!

When I was a girl scout my mom decided that for the purposes of our troop, painting faces beat raking leaves when it came to the service hour requirements. So we spent a couple hours practicing on each other and then signed up for some local festivals. Painting faces is way more fun than raking leaves. Especially when you are sixteen, or pregnant (or both but hopefully not because the girls on that tv show have it rough). I got to face paint last year at the Virginia Highland Summerfest. Our church sits right in the middle of that street festival and there is no where to park that sunday so we are encouraged to volunteer. Christian and I have always volunteered at the kids center because we like kids. And they ALWAYS need people.

Last year the Peanut was just a couple weeks old. We weren't really sure how that was all going to shake out so we didn't volunteer. But when the day came we felt like we could manage, as long as we could take the baby. And the kids place was again desperate for volunteers. When we offered our services the woman in charge said something like "what I really need is face painters, please tell me one of you can face paint!" And I could! The best part of face painting is this, people let you lay hand on their kids. It is socially appropriate to touch a shoulder or hold a chin gently still. And while you do you can pray over that child. It was awesome.

So when Brooke heard they needed face painters she said "my friend can do that!" and I have been spending the last forty minutes looking through google image search and bookmarking my favorite designs so I will have some choices for the kids to pick from. I have found that if you just say "what do you want" sometimes the choosing takes more time than the painting (and there is always a line). And sometimes you get requests that are very difficult to fulfill (I want a snake eating a badger...a HONEY badger....and a bear is eating the snake...can you do that....PLEASE....just try....that doesn't look right.....can I have something else?). Also, my design ideas tend to be sort of girl centric. I only have neices and daughters. I learned to face paint through the girl scouts, and then we would go paint brownie troops. I am awesome at hearts and rainbows, butterflies and schools of dolphins, fairies that rest on one cheek and spit magical swirls all over the little girls face out of her star shaped wand. A boy shows up I am all....a BLUE heart? how about a baseball....you don't like sport? I can write X-MEN on your cheek...I can draw a green squiggly line and call it a snake. But I found some awesome batman/spider man masks I can paint and a snake or shark that opens its mouth when you open yours!

I am so excited. And I wouldn't have had this opportunity if Brooke wasn't purposeful about plugging into our neighborhood. If you don't ask, how do you know what people need? If you don't put yourself in a place like the community meeting, you won't know they need face painters.

The best part about face painting is if you mess up, a new design is just a single wet wipe away.

Here comes SUMMER!

2011-06-23T14:02:00.000-04:00

Summer school ends Tuesday. We are reviewing for our tests and taking finals and then I am DONE (Imagine the sing-song voice my mom always uses when she is excited that I used to think was nerdy. Yeah. I do that.) I am so very grateful that God provided a pretty easy way to store up for maternity leave, yes I sure am. It hasn't been that bad and I still get all of July off. Plus, I am only going back to school for about a month and a half and then am off until January, so I should have enough time off to not go into the mental ward.

But boy am I chomping at the bit for this all to be over!!!! I have been downloading free chick lit onto my Kindle, coming up with to do lists of how to re-arrange my house. Scheming ways to get to the ocean beach one more time this summer. (Man I really want to take the Peanut....) I am ready to sleep whenever the Peanut sleeps all day if I want to, go to the farmers market and buy whatever I want to eat for that day, make dessert, Christmas shop ( I know it is weird but I like to do it when I have time....not jam it all into December.), wander around IKEA. I want to not tell a teenager to stop talking for a whole month. And I can Tuesday at noon. IT IS SO CLOSE!

Child-care sharing: How does that work?

2011-06-22T13:35:00.000-04:00

So, we child-care share. Or co-op or whatever else you want to call it. Bottom line is we don't pay for child care because God has lead us into this awesome relationship that we believe not only benefits our wallets, but also our kiddo(s). It is working, and all systems seem to be at go for next year as well. Christian has to get his schedule and then we will figure out the details, but both our and Elizabeth's desire is to continue the arrangement next year. (I was a little nervous when I got pregnant, it is like, "Hey you will have an extra infant next year I hope you don't mind"....when she told me she hoped it was the twins I was so relieved. But if God gives us another kid pretty soon....which we are hoping Hdoesn't.....or if this is the twins.....I don't think so but you never know, I just know they are coming.........He will have to giver her a new van. Which we are praying God will do anyway. Lady needs air conditioning, and a radio, and maybe some remote sliding doors!)

Our arrangement rocks, and I have had more than one person ask me about it because it works so well for us. And because it has NOT worked for some other people I have talked to. It also seems to be a very popular idea recently. I have seen a lot written about it. I think my generation likes to put a label on things (join a child-care co-op!) our parents and grand parents have been doing for years (watching each others kids...duh) and then claiming them as a bold new-fangled parenting solution for the modern world! As I have been thinking about this I have figured out some things that make our arrangement particularly succesful.

Parenting Styles: We parent in a very similar way as Elizabeth. If you aren't down with the way someone parents that is fine, but I think it is unreasonable to drop your kid off at their house with their kids and then insist that you do XYZ with little Logan, please follow the same rules. Food allergies and other legitimatly special needs issues are different. But don't expect your friend to take care of your kid with a whole different set of rules than she takes care of hers. And mostly we follow the who/how rule. I trust who I leave my kids with so I don't worry about how every single thing goes down. If you are a micro-manager then you need to pay some one. That way it isn't uncomfortable when you boss them around.

Friendly arrangement or Business: Decide early, is this a business arrangement with set times, or a set number of hours a week? Or is it more loosey goosey like we have a mutual understanding that when we call each other we will say yes if at all possible? Are extra times "allowed"? Will you try to keep that even-stephen too? We started with set times. The peanut went there Tuesday and Thursday and we watched the Grimes clan on Monday and Friday. Now we have a general two day two night arrangement. Elizabeth lets us know when she is working when she gets her schedule and the Peanut goes over there when Christian decides is best for him. If we need extra, we ask but don't expect anything. It works for us.

How many: Elizabeth has three kids, we only have one. It doesn't bother us. We don't have some sort of formula where our hours equal more becuase there are more kids. Her kids are older so I don't have to dress or change all but her youngest. They aren't likely to eat something and force me to call poison control because they have surpassed the "stick everything in your mouth" stage (I'm looking at you Peanut....). I can leave them in a room for a minute and trust they aren't going to hurt themselves. Plus, we put the kids to bed not very long after Elizabeth leaves, so half of our time babysitting is spent watching Netflix on the couch. But for some people number of kids is a big deal. Not everyone would sign up to watch 5 children 6 and under......welcome to January '12!

The Age Gap: For some having everyone in the same stage is helpfu, for us I think it works better that they are not in the same age range. Part of it is personality.....adult personality. I love my babies but I am not a baby snatcher by nature. I won't stalk you at church to grab your new born and smell her tiny head. I have found the Peanut much more enjoyable to spend the day with since about her birthday. But Elizabeth, holy baby lover. The teeny feet, the little cries she loves to walk around with a baby in the sling (which is good because in just a few short months I have a tenant for that sling!) and lament how much bigger they have gotten in the week she hasn't seen them. She doesn't find the infant stage to be as draining as I do. Meanwhile, I dig school age kids. I like answering "why" and explaining things in a way a kid understands. I just find kids funnier and much easier to deal with when we can actually understand each other. Christian is pretty even in the developmental preferences so that evens everything out. I guess.

Grace: Ultimately it takes some grace to make this arrangement work. You have to give it, and you have to make sure you are not taking advantage of too much grace taken not enough extended. That shakes out a little differently for everyone, but too many arrangements that I have heard of erode into one person being the free baby-sitter for the other family and quietly resenting it.

Can you speak up: If you need to re-work, or end the arrangement are you the kind of person who can? If you keep saying "yes" then some of that frustration you are feeling needs to rest on you. Do you trust God enough to know when this relationship ends another way will open up? At some point Elizabeth may get a day job, our kids will be in school when I am, Christian may get a ridiculously high paying job and I will homeschool, Elizabeth will become a best selling author and go on her book tour for two months. We will both be best selling authors and go on matching book tours and leave all the kids with Christian for two months (Thanks honey, you are the best!) Whatever the case may be, it ain't forever. And that is okay. But when the time comes, somebody needs to say something.

I think that God put this relationship in our lap for a variety of reasons. One of the pastors at our church said that us doing this for each other is the gospel being lived out. It sure feels like it. And imagine if this were the norm at churches, that people truly live lives together and meet each others needs. Heck, if people were regularly doing this for each other I think people would show up at churches in droves just to get in on the action!

Friends don't let friends......

2011-06-20T10:22:00.000-04:00

There is a rule I have. One this: Friends don't let friends be a-holes. And if you are really my friend, and I am really being an a-hole, you will tell me to knock it off. If you let me continue to be an a-hole without my knowledge....maybe you aren't as great of a friend as I thought you were.

I have been really ~~lucky~~ blessed in this area of my life. My sisters have always kept me on the hook, whether it was asking me tough questions about purity in High school, or telling me I better get off my high horse before I get knocked off.

My best pal from the 6th grade, Diane, was an AMAZING accountability partner all through Jr. High and High school. And I am not the easiest person to hold accountable. I have the tendency to get a little defensive. In pre-marital counseling we took some test and Christian and I both rated me super high in hostility. Then I got hostile about it when my mom and future husband were giggling about the fact that I didn't seem to already know this about myself. I may have been standing in my childhood living room yelling "Hostile! I'm not hostile! I don't know what everyone thinks is so FUNNY! I AM NEVER HOSTILE! FINE! I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS!"

Sometimes, when Diane would call me out on my less than Godly attitude or behavior I would often have a million reasons to justify my behavior. It wasn't wrong. I wasn't wrong. I was completely justified in my behavior. It was good for me to be.....doing whatever I wanted to. Especially the stuff that wasn't good for me. And she was a good enough friend to not let me get away with that crap. She would stand firm, tell me it didn't matter what I said to justify it. My behavior was not Godly. Inevitably I would call back at most a few days later letting her know she was right. Could she pray for me. She already was.

Between my freshman and sophomore years of college I went on project with Campus Crusade. I ended up living in a house all summer with 8 other women. And I learned there that if you really loved someone, you wouldn't let them get away with being a butt. Yeah, a lot of times it is easier for people to just go on their merry way. What they do between them and God is really none of your business. You don't want to hurt the relationship between you and her. Plus....sometimes.....it can get awkward. The problem with this line of thinking is that ultimately it is selfish. I don't want to be uncomfortable so I am going to continue to allow you to hurt yourself. Mostly because I don't feel like saying anything.

I know you have to develop a relationship and all of that before you can dive in. Recently a friend called me out on an attitude problem I was having. Then I tried to justify it. Then she laughed and said "You can think that if you want to, but I am pretty sure that isn't the way God works." Not unkindly, it was just that I was soooo being in the flesh right then. And we both knew my nature was seeping through. I have grown up since the days of a phone call three days later. I laughed and said she was right. I am so glad she loves me enough to not want me to be an a-hole.

Why do all the best mommy stories, have to do with poop?

2011-06-17T12:28:00.000-04:00

I want to know, why do all the best most hilarious mothering stories have to do with poop? At least at this stage. Perhaps it is because at this stage the kids are not old enough to say loud and inappropriate things at the worst times. And if I am honest with myself, I sometimes say loud and inappropriate things when I am certainly old enough to know better. So I probably have that stuff coming to me.

I have never been very squeamish about much. I don't like blood and have almost passed out at first aid presentations. But that was in junior high, I have gotten a lot better since then. I can even watch Grey's Anatomy without closing my eyes. But bad smells and generally disgusting bodily fluids I have always been able to deal with pretty well. Except when I am pregnant. My gag reflex and sense of smell kicks in to overdrive.

WARNING: This is the part where I start telling hilarious poop stories. Well, hopefully hilarious.

I found this out last year at the Sunday after Thanksgiving dinner my mom was hosting. The Scientist (Em's second) was hopping out of her seat and running back and forth around the table. The Scientist ran out of the room and when she came back she was swinging something back and forth. It was her diaper. And more importantly, as the Star (Em's oldest) so aptly pointed out from the other side of the table as she stood on her chair, pointed, and yelled IT'S POOP! Emily was stuck behind our overly crowded table and thus could not get to the Scientist. So Jill grabbed the Scientist and I snatched the diaper. Jill cleaned her up so before the Scientist could sit on anything while I went to three different trash cans before I found an unoccupied bathroom where I could throw the offending object away. Then I went outside to make sure that if I threw up it would be in the bushes.

Recently, Christian was helping people move and I was at home with the peanut. Our disposable diapers have snaps, but for whatever reason I grabbed a random hand me down diaper that was Velcro at the top. Hey, it matched the cutest little dress I put her in. I needed to run upstairs and check the laundry really quickly, so I left the Peanut in her nursery playing while I ran upstairs. I got distracted and the next thing I knew the Peanut was calling MAMA from the top of the stairs......with a diaper trailing behind her. Upon closer inspection there was a turd trailing out of that diaper. I stripped the Peanut and left her in the bathroom (after making sure she would be safe in there) while I simultaneously tried not to puke and picked up her little trail, and bleached the floor. This is the story that makes people crack up laughing.

And then last week I was babysitting, and I had to change the youngest's diaper. And I realized I was making gagging noises and disgusting faces because he was mimicking every single thing my face was doing. Then I was laughing, gagging, making faces, and changing the diaper. It was as amusing as he thought it was.

So really, is this just the phase of parenting I am in right now. The poop story phase? I can't wait to get into the "inappropriate and hysterical comment" stage. I was reminded yesterday that the Star spent a good portion of the French and Indian War re-enactment last summer yelling "I can see that Indian's BUTT!" I guess that is funnier than poop. But it still has to do with butts.....

Baby Update

2011-06-15T13:36:00.000-04:00

Dang, I was reading back through some entries and it is amazing to me what already makes sense to me, just a few months ago I was feeling the need to call out for mercy, but what the heck did that mean?

Well, it seems to mean that instead of the two boys I would need a whole bunch of new stuff for I am getting a beautiful wonderful second baby girl. And the morning after the ultrasound as I was driving to work it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't HAVE to buy anything for this baby. I will buy a few things so she can have some things all her own, and I am sure other people will as well. But I don't have to plan or list or anything. I just have to take this kid home. So easy. So awesome. Getting very excited.

While my first trimester was a lot harder this time around mostly I am shocked by my neutral appetite. I am just not that hungry. And I still fit into my regular jeans. I doubt this is coincidental. The ones I bought BEFORE the Peanut even. I really need to find the time to post some belly pics to Facebook because I look much better this time around.

God providing. I am already halfway through summer school. Clearly someone was praying there would be enough kids because I needed about ten and I have 22. They definitely needed me. And there is some other "random" money coming in. Maternity leave is abundantly covered.

New School. Someone contacted me and through the wonders of Facebook we figured out we knew some mutual friends that I don't know very well but I have a LOT of respect for their world view. I am very much at peace about what will happen next year.

Writing the book. I am doing it. It is still easier for me to not think about it and just do it. But I am doing it.

Mostly, I am amazed at the peace and grace God has given me when my default method of coping is clearly freaking out. Thanks God.

Adventures in Abbyland

2011-06-14T09:25:00.000-04:00

I have noticed some things about myself. Things I have noticed before, but they have been peeping out as I have had a week and some change of mostly just being with me. Most notably, I get myself in situations I am not entirely sure I will be able to get myself out of. I just wing and a prayer it and think "this will probably work out" and most of the time it does. I drive far too long on a gas tank that has been sitting on E far too long. (I know for a fact the CRV can make it 60 miles round trip if you turn the car on and the get gas light is on.) I only ran out of gas one time. And the one time I did run out of gas in college, I called someone and they fixed it. No problem. I once showed up to get an entertainment center off Craigslist only to discover the CRV was about two inches too small in the opening. But my friend with a truck wasn't working that day and she and her husband came to rescue me. No problem.

Recently that same friend lent me that same truck because the Volvo-wagon is currently out of commission. And me with a truck is probably not the best idea. First, I have a tendency to over estimate what I can lift, drag, carry on my own. Second, I have TERRIBLE spacial awareness. That pre-school skill where you practice figuring out which item fits in which box without actually putting the item in the box.....I could use some work. So I have some trouble figuring out what could go in the bed of the truck and what could not. I just think, "Hey I drive a truck, I can get that!"

Yesterday I went to Lowe's to pick up the supplies for the headboard I am going to be making. I picked up an eight foot by four foot piece of ply wood, paid for it and attempted to load it into the bed of the truck that was so clearly NOT eight feet long even I was wondering if this was going to work when I whipped out my credit card. You should have seen my pregnant self struggling to cart the giant piece of wood around, then push it out of the store, before finally schlepping it into the truck bed. Where it didn't fit. And it was light and blowing and bending in the wind. Luckily, and honestly this was the way I expected it to go, some nice man came by and pushed the wood so that is was wedged underneath the box and only sticking out maybe two feet. (Hey, I live in the south I am allowed to expect some nice man will help out a struggling ~~little~~ big pregnant lady.)

Then I had to drive home and get this thing into my house by myself. Which, surprisingly, I did with only a few splinters to show for it. Then I had to get the thing upstairs. I had decided that I was going to get it upstairs before I painted it. Because I knew that there was a chance the giant board would not fit up the awkward narrow staircase we call our own. And I was not going to invest my time and paint on this thing only to have Christian come home and let me know I could either saw it in half or abandon it. But I did manage to get it around and up the staircase! All by myself! And now that I put the bottom coat on it occurred to me this morning that I didn't measure the space I want to hang this thing on.........hmmmmm.........

Oh well, I am sure it will work out.......

Missing You

2011-06-13T10:24:00.000-04:00

This weekend I went to the beach with Elizabeth and her kids. It was awesome. But I did cry when I got there because I could imagine how much the Peanut would like to splash in the water and dig (and eat) in the sand. I wanted to slather her with sunscreen and have her experience it all. And I wanted Christian there with me too. Since we have been married we always go to a new place every summer. We love traveling together and know how spoiled we are that we get to take summers to do that. This year, unless we take a quick vacation to Savannah or back to the beach, we don't really have plans to do that.

On Sunday Elizabeth's kids decided they would rather chill at the pool than go back to the beach. So I took the minivan and headed out by myself. I had some really great God time, and wept as I heard what the Lord spoke into my heart. Mostly, I miss you. This here, the ocean, the beach, the warm breeze. I put it here for you to enjoy, and I was hoping we could enjoy it together. I want us to spend time together again.

Since becoming a mom I have never quite recovered from the hectic-ness of it all. I tend to spend snippets here and there with God. But picking up my Bible, reading and meditating have not happened very often if at all. God has been so gracious in showing up despite my lack of time or discipline. But I miss the concentrated time I used to have too. And I was pretty humbled that the Lord cares enough about me to miss me individually. I think sometimes I figure He has enough to worry about and surely He doesn't mind that I have been lacking in calling. But He does.

GSSM Day 4

2011-06-11T00:13:00.002-04:00

GSSM Day 4

Today Sergio Scataglini taught and ministered to us all day long on Holiness. All day Long. Here is a man who regularly ministers to tens and hundreds of thousands of people, one of the mot famous evangelists in South America if not the World and he is spending a whole day with 60 students. God must think we are pretty important to his kingdom. I agree with God. In the morning while Sergio taught the Holy spirit fell and this time I wept uncontrollably as God gave me a new vision and the specifics of a calling I have been carrying for awhile.

Sergio taught on Holiness. To love Holiness. The Bible calls it the beauty of Holineass, not the duty of Holiness. This makes sense to me. Graham Cook said, One thing we know about people they will do what they want. Bill Johnson said, “when you know who you are you won’t want to be anyone else”. Larry Randolph says that before there was a universe God dreamed you. The Bible says that he prepared works for you to do from before the foundations of the earth. How is this possible only in a dream from God. When you find out what that dream is (how heaven sees you) You will come in line entrain with that dream. That’s repentance. When the entrainment is complete you will be who you are and you won’t want to be anyone else. That desire is the beauty of Holiness.

Okay

2011-06-09T10:31:00.000-04:00

I follow Priscilla Shire's blog. It is pretty great. Every month she posts a new devotional in the section she calls the jewelry box. This month she posted about two letters. O.K. You should really go read it, but essentially she writes on how powerful those words can be. Not in a sarcastic, or dismissive tone but used in a way that says "I heard you; I trust that you heard me. I will not add any more strife to this conversation." I have noticed how powerful those words can be because I have spent the school year working under a principal who uses them well.

People come to him with concerns. Sometimes they are valid, sometimes they aren't. When you work with as many teachers as are at my school you simply can't make everyone happy. Teachers are notorious for having gone into the profession because they get to be completely in charge of their own space. They like to be the ones telling what to do.....not the other way around. Making decisions based on what one person is telling you is probably not the best route. So he listens and says okay. Then you have to let him decide what is going to be the best way to handle the situation. Sometimes, he has a really good reason for not changing anything. Sometimes, things get changed.

Lately, with the school situation. I have heard God telling me OK. In the exact same way Mr. Sims says it. OK, I have heard you. OK, I am taking what you say into consideration. OK, I need you to let me handle it now.

This year I also learned the power of OK in my classroom. When a student won't budge, when they are being belligerent. When they are making decisions that I cannot allow in my room, and are refusing to see reason. The staff was instructed to not get into the argument, to simply say "OK" let the chips fall where they may, and let the consequences say the rest. The scary thing about this is I don't win. I want the student to KNOW I am right, to hear what I have to say, to get what I think is an adequate punishment. But I can talk forever and still not get that from a student. Sometimes when you have had your say, and things aren't immediately flipping to your side you need to trust that it will all shake out in the end and say OK.

I have been in situations before where I hear the Lord say to me OK. When I am refusing to do what He asks, when I know the better way but am not following it. When I have been railing against His plan I hear "okay" and no that God is saddened by the decisions that separate myself from Him, but that He is going to allow me to suffer the consequences, and be there when I finally decide to do it His way and ask Him to pick up the pieces.

But the OK that has been pressing on my heart most is the one that God has asked me for. The one I finally gave Him yesterday. Where I can say truly, OK. You want me at Roswell? OK. You want me to drive far and serve a suburban population? OK. And not OK...but I don't like it. OK....but I have better ideas...but this is stupid.....but....but....but. Just OK.

GSSM Day 3

2011-06-09T07:13:00.004-04:00

Today there was great teaching in the morning but the Afternoon was amazing. Shara ( she was Heidi Baker's assistant for 2 years) who was our teacher in the morning had assembled a world class and I mean WORLD CLASS prophetic team and they prophesied over every student publicly (it only took 5 hours). I was called out early (the words they gave me were amazing) and Shara told me to go over to the corner and minister to anyone who wanted more of the Holy Spirit. (She must have noticed I had been flat on my back laughing uncontrollably during the activation period and was having fits of laughter while we where praying Bible verses in small groups. I now know this behavior scores you big points in Supernatural ministry school. Who knew?) You can imagine nobody in that group wanted more of the Holy Spirit. I prayed for other students for about an hour which gave me an Idea of what the Prophetic team was doing for 5 hours and it was exhausting but of course an amazing privilege and I was super blessed that my fellow students would trust me to partner with them in there pursuit of more Holy Spirit. My fellow students are so awesome and so hungry.

GSSM Day 2

2011-06-09T07:05:00.003-04:00

I am at Randy Clark's Global Awakening summer intensive where we try to do a year of school of supernatural ministry in three weeks. Today was so awesome. The class of 60 is bonding and Gelling up in the Lord. Day 2 was awesome for the teaching, but mostly for the outreach we did at the end of the day. We went to the streets ( in our case a park) and I got to prophecy over a young man about his future and see an ankle shake and see healing as I prayed for this basketball player who had just injured it playing. The amazing thing was that when injured he dropped (in agony) right in front of my other two team members. They prayed for him . He was able to get up and limp around to the other end of the court and plop down next to me (God is Good) . He let me pray for his ankle twice (this made a total of 6 prayers) The second time his ankle started shaking. After a minute he got up and walked away still testing the ankle which was obviously much better. Praise God.

GSSM Day 1

2011-06-09T06:59:00.002-04:00

I am at Randy Clark's Global Awakening summer intensive where we try to do a year of school of supernatural ministry in three weeks. Yesterday was the first day and it rocked. The head of the school Ben spent the morning talking about nothing. It was the greatest teaching on nothing I've ever heard. I went up for prayer looking for a word and instead went down for the first time ever under Ben's Prayer. They have good catchers in this place cause I'm big. I lay on the floor and prayed to receive what ever the Holy Spirit was depositing in me. In the afternoon I learned new ways to hear from God. I told Ben if we keep going like this for three weeks my head would explode. He said good. Pray for me. If you get a word for me deliver it. P.O Box 777 learning street, Myheadmayexplode, USA. or put it in the comments. Thank's

Proof I've got a good one

2011-06-07T08:58:00.000-04:00

I learned from someone that when a bride first steps into the church, where most of the people are looking is not where the show is. I mean, of course you want to look at her, the dress, the hair, the make up, the dress, the shoes, the back of the dress. But, there is time for all of that later.

The real show is up front. The best place to look when the bride walks into the church is at the groom. At his face. I have been to weddings where you could tell the exact second the groom could see the bride walking in. My breath has been caught in my throat or I have audibly sighed at his reaction to his love. I have been to weddings where Christian had to elbow me because the bride was half way down the aisle and the grooms face had not changed and it was becoming increasingly obvious I was looking in the wrong place as everyone else was slowly turning with the bridal march. That one was a bummer.

We were at a wedding this past weekend for Christian's cousin Jessica. It was really beautiful. We sat in the back so I could make a quick get away with the Peanut if she decided she had had enough of this sitting quietly having people pay attention to someone who is not her business. Somehow between making sure the baby wasn't screaming her face off and being in the back I forgot my usual behavior at weddings and turned to face the back of the church when I was instructed to by the minister.

The bride was gorgeous and looking wholly like a bride and completely like herself in the best possible way. I definitely caught the moment where she saw her groom for the first time. It was pretty great. But apparently I missed the big show. Christian poked me and whispered, did you see that? And when I looked at him he was looking at the groom who was still trying to recover from the moment his bride walked in the door. And Christian was wiping tears out of his eyes. "You missed a good one." Yes. I did, and I also got a good one.

The stuff never-written books are made of.

2011-06-05T23:27:00.000-04:00

I have been hearing it, again.I have been hearing the voice again compelling me to write. Not just in my blog or on twitter (which I am finding way more fun than I thought it would be) but continuing to work on a book that I have been working on, on and off for about four years.I thought it was just because I was being lazy, procrastinating. Hey it isn't like I haven't been guilty of it before.

Jill, ever the therapist, has asked me if I was afraid of success or failure....definitely failure. What if I write a whole book and no one is interested? What is they think it is stupid? What if no one will publish it?

Then one of my friends sent me an email about her recent trip to India. She had a quotation from bell hooks. I should probably look it up but that whole laziness thing. It was basically about how if we are going to honestly write about our life, our situation, then we must face the darkest parts of our selves. We must own the things that we thought and said that were wrong. Admit that we did them. Only then can we move past it all.

It is why we need mommy blogs, well why people read them anyway. I don't think it is an accident that the woman the NY times crowned Queen of the Mommy Bloggers is the same woman who checked herself into a psych ward because she realized her PPD was going to kill her. She wrote through it. People identified. It isn't that being a mom isn't life changing and incredible and completely amazing. But sometimes your kid strips off her diaper on the way all the way through the house and you have to wash her new dress and put on a clean dress. Then you have to go through the house and find all the turds she dropped on her way to find you while she screams her head off when we you try to keep her contained as you pick up her poop and try not to vomit. Those stories need to be shared so that when it happens to someone else, she can know she isn't alone. And she will laugh about it later.

I want to write that book for first year teachers. The book I wish I had my first year. The one that admits that every thing you said you would never do in teacher school......you will do those things. Punish with homework, lose your temper, give up one day, give up on a kid even though you do truly believe that every student can and has the right to learn. I said things to students that I am not proud of. I had whole days that were unequivocal failures. My victories were smaller most days than I had ever dreamed. But I pushed through it, and after four years I am starting to become the teacher I was so sure I was when all I did all day was talk educational theory.

Now all I have to do is take these next two weeks and actually write that business. No problem.........if I do it. Which I haven't even before I had kids......Wish me luck.

All other ground is sinking sand

2011-05-31T12:52:00.000-04:00

Saturday we had our second annual "Shake at the Lake" memorial weekend shindig with our church family. It is pretty cool to see where God has moved you in a year. Last year, my kid was three weeks old and I freaked when I got stuck on a boat that was supposed to go back in "no more than thirty minutes" and stayed out for over an hour while Juliet was in the house, with Nonni, who knows more about babies than I could ever learn, even if I read every the ENTIRE contents of baby center. This year I was all "hey, the baby is in the pack and play, someone run in the house and make sure she hasn't crawled out and jammed something metal in a light socket every once in a while would you? Thanks! See you!

I will say that if someone would have told me I would be in the same maternity bathing suit two years in a row (I was three weeks post partum last year, cut me some slack please) I would have slapped them. But I am more pumped every day to meet this baby. My family is going to be so FUN!

Anyway, Lake Oconee is beautiful and it was awesome to ~~lounge in the floats~~ swim. The Peanut would have spent the entire day in her floaty if we would have let her. But the bottom of the lake is...well...it is squishy. In some parts it is very squishy. I know I am lake spoiled because I grew up swimming in an Adirondack lake, that has a firm bottom and according to the EPA is cleaner than the stuff I shower in every day. But squishy bottom lakes kind of gross me out. On the plus side, as the lake isn't fed by snow run off I didn't turn blue from swimming in it before August.

It was a gorgeous day and a beautiful time. But sometimes trying to get your footing in that lake bottom can be exhausting. It takes a lot of concentration, you have to constantly be moving your legs, and every once in a while despite your best efforts you end up dumping yourself in the lake. I mean, whole exercise routines have been built around the idea that you use a lot more muscles, and your core gets a serious workout just by trying to stand on half an exercise ball.

And then Sunday Tim preached about the wise man who built his house upon the rock. (As I whispered the song and did the hand motions for Christian.) It reminded me about how much scrambling I had been doing lately. I find out sometime today whether or not I will be teaching summer school starting next week. I have about six back up plans. I have been obsessing about my chances of getting a job with a different school district next fall. Trying to figure out babysitting arrangements when I don't know Christian's schedule, nor how long it will actually take me to get home. I just don't know. And as much obsessing I do, I am not going to know how it will all shake out. But I do know who is in control of all of this.

Building my future on the sand has been exhausting. I don't know what my plans are monday, let alone August. I am so tired of dancing and concentrating on the shifts in the plans as I brace for the eventual times that I will fall flat on my face and have to pick myself up and hope that I can shift and move and stay upright a little bit longer this time around. But I don't have to do that. I could sit back and say "God knew what he was doing last summer and He knows what He is doing now." I wonder why it is so hard for me to stand on the rock of Christ Jesus. Maybe it is because the other way, while exhausting, I can fool myself into thinking I am somehow doing something, helping in some way. This way, I just stand. Why is doing nothing so hard for me? And you? I know I am not the only one.

Today I found this hiding in my drawers. I post it note in my hand writing "And my God will supply everything you need according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus". Just (per usual) what I needed.

It's Official

2011-05-25T09:18:00.000-04:00

I just heard from HR. It looks like I will be placed at Roswell next year. Mostly, the thing that sucks about this is the commute. I will be in the heart of the Atlanta traffic you hear horror stories about. In my third trimester. Oh boy. It also means I will be needing to leave the house between 6:30 and 6:45 every morning. Gross. We aren't exactly sure how child care is going to shake out with Christian's new schedule and me getting home much later due to traffic.

But some of the other issues I have been having make me realize that they are MY issues, and come what come may I need to get over them.

1. My identity- I know I need to hold my identity in Christ, and I DO think that that is the most important thing in my life, but I probably have too much of my identity wrapped up in my job. I work in an urban school with ~~mostly~~ almost all minority students. About 80-90 percent of my kids qualify for free lunch. I like that my job is hard, that I tackle something every day that most people wouldn't even try. Of the folks who do try my job, almost half of them quit within three years. I made it. And I am really proud of that. When I tell people what I do I feel like it communicates that I am tough and capable. I also feel like it communicates that I don't just think equal access to everything for everybody would be nice, I am actively trying to reach that goal. I love that I have gotten to know and understand better a culture that is not my own. That some of my kids as a PART of that culture rather than an intruder. Saying what I do and where I do it communicates all of that, without me having to explain any of it. Plus, it makes me cooler, I am aware of (and sometimes use) fashion trends, phrases, and music far before most of my friends because I am exposed to it.

2. My role as a teacher- One of the things I think I do really well is expose my students to things that are outside of their every day life. I want them to understand that there are places just miles from their houses where the assumption is you go to college, places far away from them where people would kill for the opportunities my students have. There are different ways of talking, listening, seeing the world that are so vastly different from theirs that it is frightening at first, but those people aren't stupid or scary, they just have a different paradigm. One that you could benefit from if you looked at it. I don't know how to do that with students who have broader horizons. Maybe that is because I have never tried....but maybe not.

3. My commitment to using literacy as a tool to "rise up"- The best book in college I was assigned to read was "Reading, Writing, and Rising Up". It helped me understand what a powerful thing literacy can be (historically if we want to disenfranchise people we make sure they can't read or write.) I love that I get to encourage kids to find their voice who otherwise wouldn't. I know that in order to enact social change you need all types of people and therefore all types of teachers.......it is just I am more comfortable working from the bottom helping them realize they can rise to the top than working from the top teaching them to want to change the system that is set up to benefit them.

4. My comfort zone- Often I think that I have a very large comfort zone. I hear people say "God might want you out of your comfort zone" and think.....that would be REALLY far. I am comfortable in a lot of situations. Well, we found a hole in my comfort zone and I have been placed right there.

5. My ability to empathise with my students- If we are honest, we are just more sympathetic to certain situations than others. And I tend to be more sympathetic to kids who are taking MARTA to school, than to the students who drove their own car to school on their 16th birthday. It doesn't mean God loves them any less, or I should love them any less......it is just my bias I guess, and I am running into it.....and I liked to think I didn't have one......

Basically, I need to get over myself, my plans, what I pictured God wanting for me. I need to erase the picture of the next ten years I had drawn and wait for God to paint over that mess a picture that is more beautiful. It is just, I am familiar with the picture I painted....and not at all familiar with this new picture.

Mommy Wars, what's up with that?

2011-05-22T22:30:00.000-04:00

I am so annoyed with myself right now. And it isn't because I am freaking out about next fall, or even next week (but seriously y'all I find out if I teach summer school on Friday....so pray for that would you?). It is because I let myself get sucked into a mommy war.

Okay, hear me out. Christian stays home with the Peanut on the days he isn't working....and he is out for the summer so that is everyday right now. Anyway there was this hilarious set of questions posted in this article from a mom who felt like sometimes her husband didn't get how being home with a two-year-old day in and out could possibly be that hard. I mean he has to go to work every day. Seriously, it is hilarious go read it.

Christian and I have talked about how hard it can be staying home, isolating, tedious, and exhausting while totally intellectually boring all at the same time. This isn't to say that it also isn't awesome, and he does feel super lucky to be able to spend so much time with our daughter. And I get jealous sometimes when I get excited about some new thing she is doing, and I learn she has been doing it for a week. But there are days when I am sure he wishes it was him rushing out of the house and me going into the nursery to peel the pee-soaked pajamas off our daughter and throw the sheets in the wash. (She soaks through more often then not, and this is now the only reason she wakes up at night. Anyone got any tips?)

So I thought that he would appreciate the article, and he totally did. We laughed. But then I made the mistake of reading some of the 100+ comments. And this totally tongue in cheek somehow got the stay at home vs. working mom fans flamed. And then, one of the comments got under my skin and I was all "this lady doesn't even know me how does she know I am not giving it my all. How dare she think that I get to sleep through the night just because I am a working mom. Why would she say she is giving 100 percent everyday to being a mom? Is she trying to say that I am not 100 percent a mom, just because I work?"

Slow down sister. This lady doesn't know me, which means she isn't talking about me. So get it together mommy. Turns out the person who is talking is just reacting to what she felt like was someone saying that her situation wasn't difficult or valid. She wasn't saying my life isn't difficult. She was talking about her but I was reacting as though she was talking about me. And I put a defensive comment down, and then someone called me out on it, then I had to defend it.

But it made me start thinking about the "mommy wars." And how these wars only exist online. I have never seen a mommy war in real life. All the stay at home moms I know are totally supportive of me and my situation. And have even sat for us when we are in a pinch. And I have never thought "what are you whining about" when the plethora of stay at homes I know are describing a particularly hard day or a specific issue they are having. We are all in this together. We recognize everyones life is hard. Because being a parent, while being incredibly rewarding, is hard. But online....somehow it all gets messed up. I don't get that. And I really hate that today I somehow got sucked into it.

I remember when.....

2011-05-20T12:43:00.001-04:00

In light of my last post, and all of the good feelings being sent my way (thank you so so so much) I want to stop here for a second and mark a monument. For when God provided.

I remember when I was staying at home and crying because I didn't know what I was going to do about child care when I finally had this baby. I was worried, but I heard God telling me that He would provide someone. Wednesday we attended a dance demonstration for Elizabeth's daughter. When Juliet started howling in the middle of it, the little ballerina turned around from her performance and yelled "it's okay Peanut! That's my sister."

I remember when I couldn't seem to get a job interview and then I walked into my first school and it was so clear I had the job I went out to the car to call Christian and tell him I had one.

I remember when we moved to Atlanta, and we didn't know quite how we were going to make ends meet and a couple of "random" checks showed up in the mail.

I remember when we didn't get THE HOUSE. The one I was sure was ours because of a technical glitch. I was furious, and my media center specialist looked me straight in the face and told me "God don't keep blessings from us. If He doesn't want you there then you need to be thanking Him." She was completely right. The house we have now is better suited for us, and our neighbors down the street are more of an encouragement then I could have imagined.

I remember when I was praying that Jill would come live here... for a male duo partner who knew the Lord.....for my friend in High school to come to know Jesus, and she did, and when she saw Jill at a wedding she whispered to her "tell Abby I know Jesus now."

God did all of those things, plus countless others. Because He loves me and knows whats best for me. Even when I am feeling alone and in despair (the special pregnant hormonal kind).

When it rains, I cry

2011-05-19T11:24:00.000-04:00

Oh the crying stage of pregnancy, how I love you. I have never exactly been one to keep my emotions private. For me, it feels much better just to let it all hang out. Recently Jill and I were at a women's bible study where we were both crying. We were the only two. It is genetic. Thanks a lot Dad. (You read that correctly, when I was taking a lecture class in college Dr. Stamp asked us which parent is more likely to cry. I was the only one to say dad and everyone of the other couple hundred students looked at me.)

Anyway, I have had a flood of things happen that probably would have made me cry anyway, but add 22 weeks pregnant to the list (hey, Priscilla is the size of a coconut!) and the tears are going to flow. I have been getting NO response from a few people at work, and I know they are busy. I get it. Testing totally sucks for the students, the teachers, the people in charge who will loose their job if anything goes wrong. It just blows, unless of course you get paid a lot of money for creating those tests. But I need to know if I am teaching summer school or not, at the very least I need to know when I am going to know if you don't know yet to tell me. And it shouldn't take a week and a half and four emails to find that answer. (Which was we don't know, but we will let you know on this date.) And then there is some form that my lawyers need that I gave to someone in March and they say they gave it to someone else, but that someone else says they have never seen it before and have been waiting on me to give it to them.

But the icing on the cake is this. I was surplussed. Then I was given a placement in the north side of the school district that will be between an hour and a half to two hours to get home in traffic. I would get home at between 5:30 and 6 on a good day. The peanut goes to sleep at 7. On a bad day I wouldn't even get to see her. With a four month old at home I will be getting up an hour and a half earlier than I do now to make it to work on time. Awesome. I was just wrapping my head around this when the principal from the new school emailed me to let me know that there must be some mistake. He doesn't have an opening. This is good news. I am praying that I am put closer to my house (in my dream world they leave me where I am at). But it puts me in a limbo land I am not great at navigating.

So I get all this news pretty much at the same time and I am in the front office trying to figure out where this stupid form is and am informed no one has it. And I throw up my hands and sigh really loud and stomp out like the mature professional I am. And the totally gracious employee who is definitely NOT to blame calls me back in to let me know that if someone just gets her the form she will fax it where ever I desire today. Luckily that gave me the chance to apologize and tell her that I know she hasn't done anything wrong I am just frustrated and overwhelmed. Then I cried in the front in front of the secretary and a co-worker. I feel awesome. I am going to taco bell for lunch. And I may have had a banana and some m&ms for breakfast. I just feel that awesome.

I know that God has everything under control. I do. I read the part in the Bible at small group last night about not worrying about tomorrow because the birds and the flowers don't and they do just fine and all of that. And I get that. I do. I have a million stories of the Lord providing when provision seemed impossible. And with everything I profess to believe Him to have done, getting me a job where He wants me and making sure we are provided for is simply not a big deal. But right now I am frustrated and annoyed, and worried. Because what I feel like is not lining up with what I know.

What I feel like goes something like this: I am not going to make any extra money this summer and the cost of gas is going to completely destroy our budget, and these forms will never be filled out right so we will never see that money and I will end up having to pay the stupid 600 dollar ambulance bill for riding in the front while someone was actually getting medical care only because they were going to the place I wanted to be and people kept asking me if I wanted to and I just wanted everyone to shut up. I will have this baby in traffic on the side of four hundred before I set foot in an ambulance again. I'll just make sure I am wearing skirts when I come full term so when the birth is on the news off of footage from someones camera phone, they can shoot it from an angle that doesn't showcase parts that have to be blurred out. (I realize I may have just crossed the too far line. Sorry about that.)

Just writing all of that makes me realize how ridiculous all of this is, how crazy I am being. So I suppose I will just continue to choose the truth over my insanely pregnant feelings. And cry. And eat taco bell for lunch. And pray pray pray that I find a teaching job close to home (if anyone has any leads on that let me know.)

Get Real

2011-05-14T13:45:00.000-04:00

Why can't we all just get real with each other? This is what I have been asking myself lately. Maybe it is because I recently spent a significant amount of time standing outside of church while my friend let me know that she was a terrible mom (so, so not true). Or maybe it is because I recently found the facebook message my sister Emily sent me when I had told her I was fine and three hours later posted on here one seriously hot mess. She basically let me know (in a supportive way, Em never comes off as harsh....even when she is trying to be) that it wasn't okay to fine her to death when I wasn't feeling so fine.

And perhaps that is why transparency seems like a more natural choice for me. Especially in my personal life. Maybe it was because I was raised in a relatively small house with no TVs in the kids rooms and no basement to retreat to. We had to beg my parents to let us put a free phone in the girls room. Free, they didn't even have to pay for it. And there was already a phone jack in the room. But this meant that there wasn't a whole lot that could be hidden. If you were going to break up with your boyfriend, or have a fight with your friends, or feel bad about the zit that was so big is was closing one of your nostrils (seriously, how the heck was I going to hide that one?) everyone in the house knew about it.

So, though I think do have a natural bent to just let it all hang out it was also the way I was raised. And I think that the church suffers miserably when there are people in the pews looking around and fine-ing each other. I think everyone suffers miserably when we aren't up front about what is going on.

Last night I exchanged a series of facebook messages with a student I had my first year of teaching. This sweet girl had just finished her first year of college and was coming home and transferring to a local school because she is about to have a baby. She expressed some concerns to me, how she was feeling overwhelmed and unsure. How was she going to make good choices for this child when she hadn't made good ones for herself? How could she separate her feelings of how this baby came about with her feelings for this baby? It was just all so overwhelming for her. And I let her in on the secret, the one people don't tell you until you are crying in a public place. That is how a lot of us feel.

Being a mom comes with a LOT of weight to it. For me, more weight than wife, more weight than teacher (and I seriously almost cracked under that business). It just feels like as a mom you are supposed to know everything, take care of everything, and be happy about everything all the time. It feels like that but it isn't like that. It is okay to have complicated feelings...it is a complicated relationship, mother to child. Throw in everyone on the internet's opinion on breast versus bottle, working versus stay at home, co-sleeping versus crib and you are a basket case. And then you have to wake up every few hours. At 19....I could barely take care of myself.... I just think she needs to know that everyone is struggling. I think it does her a complete disservice for us to run around with a smile on our faces with "fine" coming out of our mouths when we don't feel like it. I think it does everyone a disservice.

How cute is she?

2011-05-10T11:24:00.001-04:00

Hey, I am that parent.

Model Search - Parenting.com

Vote for the peanut!

But then.....

2011-05-09T22:01:00.000-04:00

I have been having a pretty crap-tastic day. A day where nothing is really wrong per say.....It is just that nothing seems to be right. And the worst part is I can't even blame it on anyone. That's right. I said it. I always feel better about my circumstances when I have someone to rage against, sometimes even say bad things about, at the very least be smarter than.

It started on Friday. My principal called me into his office to let me know I was being surplussed....again. This time last year I was on maternity leave, so I wasn't made aware of the fact that I would no longer be working at the school I was familiar with. Instead, my name would be thrown into a pot where principals would pluck people out as they needed them. I would have a job, and I would find out exactly where a week or so before I had to report. Awesome nothing like reporting to a new school with a new baby, leaky boobs, and a breast pump. The first conversations I had with my department head and my principal were about my boobs and my need for a pumping room.

This time it turns out there IS something like reporting to a new school talking about your boob-related needs. In August of next year I will report to a school in the "visible and hugely pregnant" stage of pregnancy. My first conversations will be about when I am going on maternity leave (at the last possible second) and what will happen if that second comes before I thought (when I had Juliet everyone was sure I was waiting "too long" and I would have the baby on the floor under my desk while my class listened to me scream in agony...yeah they weren't huge on natural birth. I had to get my midwives to assure everyone I was in fact perfectly able to continue to work.) Awesome, Hi! I am your new teacher....see you in January! Way to build a strong reputation with my students.....a population that needs a lot of face time.

I managed to ignore the fact that I wouldn't be at the school that I have ADORED working at this year the whole weekend. But today I had to submit my top three choices of where I would like to move next year. This doesn't mean I get them. This just means I am allowed to state my preferences. So I started today by choosing the place I don't really want to be moved to next year.

Then my department head dropped by and let me know that the EOCT was being given and one of the teachers was out. Since you have to have a certified teacher to be in the room, a sub couldn't cover. So third block instead of planning (read: occasionally falling asleep in my car) I would be administering a test. Now between the pregnancy and this being Juliet's first year I have had to call in so last minute there was no sub. Which means the people in my department have had to cover me so I am NOT complaining about having to cover someones class. The issue is I forgot my lunch today. And since I didn't have a planning I didn't have time to go get anything.

Still, no problem. I'll just eat the old bag of microwave popcorn I randomly found last Friday and Hey! I think I have some change in my wallet, enough for a can of coke. Perfect, I can just pretend I am at the movies. So I wander down to the teachers lounge, start the popcorn, put my money in the machine and hit the button. When I reach my hand in to get the can it gets wet. And there is a tiny line of coke spraying out of the corral that holds the newly dispensed drinks. On the way to my hand my coke has sprung a leak and I am instructed by the head janitor to throw it directly in the trash behind me. And anybody can tell you, you don't screw with Miss Vicky. So into the trash it went. And I had no more money, and nothing to drink....and less than fifteen minutes to eat my crappy popcorn lunch.

I was pretty thirsty when the bell rang. I asked my kids if they had change for a five but no one did. Crap. Out of luck. But then.....One of my amigos gave me a dollar, so I could get a coke. Which makes me feel like my kids appreciate me. And on my way down to the machine I ran into a teacher in my department who assured me she was trying to "scheme a way for me to stay" which doesn't give me a lot of hope but makes me feel like someone cares I am leaving. I had been feeling like it didn't matter to my co-workers as I had only been there for a year.

And all of this reminded me what a brat I was to God about being surplussed the first time.....so here's to hoping that either the schemes work, or I will be even happier with my next placement (which I couldn't imagine.....but God is bigger than my imagination.) Cheers (with my coke, that my kid bought me.)

Happy (belated) Birthday Peanut!

2011-05-06T10:31:00.001-04:00

I have been working on this post for awhile. So forgive the discrepancies in the time table.

Yesterday was my daughters first birthday. I have been a mom for a whole year! What the heck. My sister Jill would tell you I celebrated by looking the part. I got all my hair chopped off and wore pearls. Between those two piece, the protruding belly and the cardigan sweater I did kind of scream Mommy, but hey with a one year old and one due in September, what are you going to do but rock the part of mom? I do drive a station wagon after all.

I feel so very blessed to have this sweet, sweet child in my life. She woke up smiling and was a joy during her entire party....even if it was Sunday which means the first nap gets skipped. One of my friends says her children came into this world in the same way that they interact with the world. In this case that seems to be true.

Except for the minor (ha! It doesn't feel the fourth night in a row you are waking up for the fifth time) sleep issues the peanut is a dream. She is the happiest little girl. At church I have been asked if she ever cries! She is friendly and curious and when you pick her up to cuddle her and put her on your hip she likes to pat your back. It is one of my very favorite things.

I also lover her sense of humor. It is so amazing to me that it is already evident. I mean a year ago all she could do was eat, sleep, and poop. She likes to mimic faces and Brooke, (who blogs here) has taught her some cute ones. When she discovers that somethings she does is charming she laughs and claps and remembers so she can pull her new trick out later to charm the pants off of someone else. My current favorite is covering her ears when you say peek-a-boo. Hilarious. Second place is counting. The words are all wrong but the inflection is perfect! I love that she screams in glee and starts crawling faster when she realizes you are following her to thwart her current plans (which usually include either playing in the dog food, the open dishwasher, or crawling to the bathroom and trying to climb into the tub.)

I love how social she is. She loves to interact with the people at the grocery store or her dad's work. She absolutely adores other children. Watching her cousin and her interact was the most hilarious thing. They clearly were ready to be besties. I have no idea what they were telling each other, but they seemed to understand each other perfectly. Her other favorite kiddo is the two year old at Elizabeth's. When they watch Baby Einstein together they always laugh at the same parts. What is up with that? She flaps her hands when she sees Elizabeth's clan make their way to church. And please do not think of coming into a room without acknowledging her directly. OF-FEN-DED.

And though I know it may burn me in the future, I love that she knows what she wants and lets you know that she wants it. Currently this is usually whatever you are eating or drinking at the time (50th percentile in height 90th in weight ahem.) or the remote control. Peanut lets you know that she would like that. Now please. But she is still distractable enough that the remote with the dead batteries works just as well as the one that lights up. I am not good at asking for what I want. I sit back and am sometimes resent other people's abilities to say "this is what I want or need" without saying "if that is okay" or feeling guilty about being too demanding. It is something I want to make sure I don't pass on to my daughters (daughters, I am going to have daughters, plural!). And it is a little weird I have this issue as neither of my sisters seem to.

Mostly I love how she is her own creation; she is already the person God has created her to be. He knows her path and I am excited to continue to help her along it.

What's in a name?

2011-05-04T10:42:00.000-04:00

Names are so funny. In Biblical days people were named very often for places and circumstances. There names were changed when there hearts were changed. Or the meaning becomes clear or works in two opposite ways like Peter. He started as a pebble, getting kicked around. But became the corner-stone of the church, the rock Christ built the church on. Cool, God, that is pretty cool.

My name means joy. Or in some translations Joy of her father (I think). I don't think it is an accident that dad and I have the same prophetic gifts. My middle name is Kathleen, not only am I the spitting image of my mother-Kathleen, we chose the same profession, we have the same tastes, I do things that make my sisters scream "AAAAHHH you're MOM!." There are moments when I look in the mirror and think I look more like my mother than myself.

Christian's name means follower of Christ. There was a time when this was not the primary way he, or anyone else would have defined him. But it was what his mother named for, and what she prayed for. And now, thankfully, he is first and foremost a follower of Christ. This is how he sees his life, his primary role.

Juliet means youthful. It is one of my favorite things about Christian. It is also in honor of my grandmother Juliane. Marie means overthrow or rebellion (I named my kid youthful rebellion. I may have a handful in a couple of years....). But I like the idea of the very feminine name having this strength behind it. I also read that Marie is derived from Myrrh, which is bitter at first but later turns sweet. Perfect, not the twins but sweeter than I could ask for.

We had a potential name picked out for a girl. Then sometime last week I soured on it. It wasn't that I didn't like the name Lila, it was just that....I don't know. I wasn't sure Lila was the baby in my belly. Which was fine...because I was having a boy. So when we opened the envelope and saw "female" we were pretty surprised, and thought pretty quickly.....what are we going to name this child? Christian even said "man, now I have to get serious about baby names!"

So we spent a couple of hours on Nameberry. Seriously, a couple of hours. It went something like this Felicity, Fiona, Felicia? No. Hazel, Ivy? No. Maya, Eleanor? I like those but I am not sure that is this baby..... Lorna? Nora? Neither work with the last name Norman. I'm looking at the list literary girl's names. Well, I'm looking at the list classic under used girls names. Okay, we definitely like Juliet because it is classic and not because it is fancy. Abby, why have you suggested half the names on the hipster list? I'm looking at the list if you like Josephine you'll love.... Well I am looking at the list if you like Ava you'll love..... Then I started reading the blog. It talked about how two syllable names sound best with one or three syllable last names. Three syllable names work well with two syllable last names. Hmmmm.... So then I gave up and started tooling around facebook while Christian thought some more.

I had given up deciding that God would have to whisper the name to me. Or someone. That maybe I would be one of those women in the hospital who has "baby girl" and they won't release you until you name your baby. We weren't even talking about baby names anymore when Christian said it. What about Priscilla? Priscilla, I like it. I love it. Then Christian started to choke up. He didn't read it. We don't know where we got it. It seems as though God whispered it to him. Priscilla, meaning ancient and venerable. (I admit I had to look up venerable. It means honorable, set apart, sacred. Wow.) Priscilla is a very prominent woman in the Acts church. Christian even read that some people think she wrote Hebrews. I also like that Juliet and Priscilla both are names that people think of in pairs (Romeo and Juliet, Priscilla and Aquila). Classic, feminine, has a standard spelling, won't be 4 of them on the kindergarten playground.

But mostly, it feels right. We have a peace about it. And the coolest thing happened. Now that she has a name we are SO excited to meet her. God gave us this name and I can't wait to meet this little person, help her become the person God wants her to be. Watch her and her sister fight, and love, and laugh and fight, and giggle, and plot against Christian and I, and laugh until they pee themselves. Priscilla. We are SO excited to meet you!

Today is the day

2011-05-03T13:53:00.002-04:00

In two hours I will know what kind of bun is in this oven.....Well I say that. But I had a very clear girl shot before and I still wondered if two boys were going to come out. Either way I figured I would take home whatever came out.

So far we have only seen one baby on the ultrasound, and my friends who know more than I do about those things seem to say that one baby at nine weeks means one at twenty weeks. But in my spirit I hear my heart again whispering, there could be two. God could do it like that.

And then all the what ifs....If it is a girl I will be really excited that Peanut has a sister, but we do not have a name picked out. If it is a boy, one boy there will be much praying and contemplation about what to name him.

I don't want to be disappointed by any baby....but I do want a boy, or really I want two. I will be super thrilled with the baby when it is time to take the baby home. But that wrestling with God in the mean time. I am praying that I accept whatever the Lord reveals, and am excited about it.

P.S. I accidentally scheduled the ultrasound during Christian's exams, so they are writing it down and putting it in an envelope and we will see if I can wait for Christian to get home before I rip open the envelope.

Edit: We have a singleton, one girl. And we have a name! Totally feel like it was given to us by the Lord.We have a singleton, one girl. And we have a name! Totally feel like it was given to us by the Lord. It is funny how I said I wanted a boy. Now I am just super excited to meet my little girl!

I promise I am not crazy

2011-04-29T09:08:00.000-04:00

Just thought I would let you all know that at soon as I write about all this stuff.....I stop worrying or crying about it. So, basically you all read my craziest parts. You are very welcome.

Today, it feels like Saturday.....

2011-04-28T20:35:00.000-04:00

I swing back and forth on the pendulum of emotion. I know that some of this is simply pregnancy emotion and that everyone does it. I remember staying home from work so that I could cry all day with Juliet, before all the twin business started. I was just completely overwhelmed by the thought of a baby in my life. What if I didn't want to go back to work? What if I was terrible at motherhood? What if my emotions never went back into control? What if there was something wrong? What if all the worrying caused something to be wrong? What if Christian died and she would never know her father? What if they had to put me into a medically induced coma just to gestate the baby, and then a c-section and then they pulled the plug and she would never know me? (I swear I wasn't watching soap operas all day, but it sure sounds like it.....).

I also remember thinking that I of all people did not have a right to think and feel those things. I wanted this baby this was a planned pregnancy. Here I was weeping over the life change this baby who I hoped and planned for and I still hoped that other women would be braver than I and carry babies to term who were not hoped and planned for. Hy-po-crite.

This time around I am still a mess, but a different kind. This pregnancy has been surprisingly less emotionally exhausting. Maybe it is because I am emotionally throwing up on anyone who read this and not keeping it all inside. (Thank you dear readers, have a wet wipe.) But physically I am drained, drained. And the sheer exhaustion has definately made me generally crabby. Oh and what is that, hello 20 week Braxton-Hicks.

But ultimately, over all I would say this pregnancy feels like the space between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. On Sunday someone mentioned that Saturday, the one between The Crucifixion and Resurrection, and I have been thinking about it a lot. We talked about it a little bit in small group yesterday. What was it like for them? The disciples, the crowds who had been following Jesus and believing that He was indeed the messiah. What was it like for his mom, who had believed so effortlessly when the angels came to tell her that she was with child....but hadn't had sex yet? What was it like for people who had dropped their careers and abandoned families to follow Jesus, only to watch Him die on a cross? How did they deal with the reality they were seeing when it conflicted with the hope and faith that had been growing in their hearts about who Jesus was. Who Jesus proved himself to be over and over again.

Sure, by Sunday it all made sense. That whole ridiculous business about being sold and crucified, really THAT was the piece that wasn't a parable? Really? Okay, he WAS the Messiah, He IS the messiah, regardless of the expectations He made it work. By Sunday there was a greater plan explained, an understanding that only comes from the complete picture. How I long for the complete picture.

But that Saturday must have been rough. Some people were probably angry, some disappointed, others frustrated. Maybe some wallowed in their doubt, or were already on their way home to beg for their jobs back and apologize to their family members, knowing they would hear "I told you so" for a long long time. I like to think that there were some who clung to the hope that if they just held out long enough Jesus would come back and make it all make sense somehow.

And Saturday is exactly what this pregnancy feels like, what every pregnancy will feel like (and Lord have mercy may this be the one, next tops) until there are two baby boys in my arms. Two tiny heart beats on the monitor. I go from anger, to doubt, always in confusion. I don't want to be disappointed, but know I will be. I am trying to have faith....and when push comes to shove I know they are coming.....it is only the when that I struggle with.

I feel so small, so selfish. I know that people have real problems. There are millions of women who would beg for ANY baby. That infertility is a heartbreaking path that the I will never have to travel down. At this point I am absolutely guaranteed two biological plus as many as we choose to adopt. I know how lucky I am. And yet, I want my boys. The ones I know are out there, are designated for me. And I want to be sure and rest in peace, the peace of Sunday because I know the fulfilment is coming. But right now, I have the desperate faith and hope of Saturday. Because it isn't Sunday yet, and I need to be okay with my Saturday faith.....because I believe God is okay with it.

Tuesday I have an ultra-sound. I am praying that anyway it is, it will be revealed to me on Tuesday. But you know what I want it took look like.....

Uh Oh!

2011-04-23T19:55:00.000-04:00

Peanut is using new words by the second. Her current favorite is Uh-Oh! Ever the English teacher I am attempting to get her to use her new word only when appropriate. It has been going something like this:

Peanut (dropping her sippy cup on purpose): Uh-Oh!

Me: Peanut, that isn't an uh-oh. That was on purpose.

Peanut: (Looking at the cup and then me): Uh-Oh!

Me: No, not an uh

Peanut (interrupting): Uh-Oh! Uh-Oh!

Me: No, purpose

Peanut: Uh-Oh

Me: No because you

Peanut (interrupting again):Uh-OH UH-OH!

Christian: You just lost that debate to an 11 month old.

Me: Fine, here is you sippy, don't drop

Peanut (you guessed it): Uh-Oh!

What have I been praying for?

2011-04-19T15:03:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I was hit in the face with the reality of how into me I am. Ughh. Don't you love the mirror God occasionally holds up to your heart? Yesterday, I did not.

We bought a car a couple of weeks ago. We meant to get around to making the key. We did. But I work full time and am ridiculously tired because this baby(s) is eating me from the inside out. Christian has the baby the days he is home, we babysit two nights a week. Weekends are full of other stuff. We just don't feel like it, but we will get to it later......except now we won't get to it later because somehow this weekend we managed to lose the key. We looked everywhere. I even went through the trash. Gone. Like yesterday, the key is gone. We need the key so I can get to work tomorrow. The replacement cost us $250. Ouch.

Also, Sunday I couldn't get the Wii remote to work. This may not sound like a big deal, but we don't have cable and we stream netflix live through the Wii. So, basically the TV went out.

And finally, today Christian texted me to let me know that he couldn't find his keys and may not be able to get to work. While the Internet at school was acting up and my lesson plans demanded netflix and the new superintendent was roaming the school looking for classes to pop in on. Awesome!

All of this has driven me to my knees. I have been praying desperately and fervently. Please just let this stuff work! Which makes me realize that I haven't been praying desperately and fervently for much else lately. Not for my friends and co-workers who don't know the Lord, not for the city I profess to love deeply. Not for my children, the peanut or whoever happens to be residing in my uterus. Not even for guidance as to whether or not I should teach summer school. I have been praying I make it to work on time the 4 days a week I am cutting it too close for comfort.

I remember a time in college where this wasn't the case. I had a lot of friends who didn't know the Lord personally. Some of them seemed to be seeking, some of them had let me know up front that they didn't really have any interest, but they were okay with the fact that the whole Jesus thing seemed to be working for me. I was on my knees for these people every single night. I would literally cry out to God, tears streaming down my face, for the lives of my friends. I steadily prayed for three people who didn't know the Lord all through Junior High and High School, the inside of my dresser decorated with an orange piece of construction paper with a three person list and a Jesus fish in blue paint marker. God has twice in my life repeatedly woken me up to pray for things that I didn't fully understand until the whole situation was revealed (both had to do with unborn babies no one knew about).

But right now? Currently I am completely keyed into praying for things that make my life easier, that benefit and convenience me. It isn't that I don't think God doesn't want these things for my life. It is just that....well.....I like the person I am better when I am more in tune with other people's problems, with other's needs. Considering where I work, there are people in my life (my students) who have larger problems than their netflix not working. When my prayers are less concerned with the admittedly shallow needs of my own and more concerned with the deep hurt of the world around me.

Sisters, sisters

2011-04-14T15:45:00.000-04:00

I went to visit my sister and her three kids in Detroit over spring break. I had a great time but it was so cold. Why do people live where it snows, in April? I am so so so glad that the Lord called me to Atlanta and not Alaska.

So I was at my sister's in ~~Alaska~~ Detroit. She has three kids. Three girls. Basically she has the exact family we were raised in, space between sisters and all. 5, 3, and 1. It was super fun to be around. I kept calling us the estrogen parade. Everybody at the mall, or at the zoo (where we had a friend's 4 year old girl- 5 girls under 5) kept commenting about all of those little girls. Especially when we dressed them alike for their picture. Here were some of the highlights

*Deciding at 8 am to get the girls dressed in matching outfits (that we had to find and put together) and get their picture taken. We had never done this before and it was hilarious. The big girls did a great job but the babies were a little less than co-operative. So the poor photographer had to keep a 3 and 5 year old in place and smiling while the Em's youngest cried that she wasn't being held by mama and the Peanut (who refused to nap that day) pulled on her ear and looked border line comatose. Lucky for us we got one good photo. So it wasn't a difficult decision.

*After the photo-shoot we drove half way across town to go to the mall with the play place, got the kids fed (the Peanut was mad I didn't get her food fast enough). Where there was a sweet carousel and Em and I had no cash so the big girls had to be told sorry after we had said yes.....oops. Luckily there was enough change for them to each go on the ride of their choice. They were remarkably amiable about the whole thing. By the time we got home I was really glad my brother-in-law had made dinner. We were all pretty tired.

*Four girls in one bathtub. The squealing, the splashing. The sheer joy of it all.

Mostly it was fun to watch the older sisters interact. I don't really have any memories of what it was like to have day to day interactions with my sisters when I was one or three. It was pretty entertaining, especially watching the older two. The oldest who I will refer to as the Star and the second who I will call the Scientist were constantly playing together. Occasionally the Star would tell the Scientist "You can't be my best friend anymore." Which she is NOT allowed to say. Mostly because it is mean, but also because it is not true. Em and I were sitting around laughing about it.

Ask Jill and I, as much as you try to avoid it you sisters are there. Always there.....the person who you are screaming at across the 150 people in the band room, is the "extra" person you want with you in the delivery room when you are birthing your first child. The person who bears the scars of your fights is the same one who is still able to make you laugh until you pee yourself at 27 years old. It is the arch of sisterhood. Those old rivalries and frustrations will fade and be the strange foundation of the closest relationship outside of your marriage. If you let them. If you forgive. If you and your family covers those relationships in prayer. Believe me. I know.

I still remember the Christmas where I was engaged, where Jill and I had erupted into yet another argument. I know it was about something stupid, but I don't remember exactly what. We ended up yelling across the living room as our extended family wondered if we were ever going to be able to get along. And my dad let us know what a bad witness it was. Two people who professed to be followers of Christ, who spoke of the forgiveness of sin, were unable to forgive each other of anything, ever. Whooops. Merry Christmas.

We began praying for our relationship without telling each other, and just a few years later Jill was the family member I was praying would come here. Jill was the one I was so desperately grateful for when I had my baby, funny how God's grace can work out like that. Can cover and heal relationships if you let it.

There is little doubt in my mind that The Star and The Scientist will have a similarly close relationship as they age. And for them I leave this hilarious interaction. Because, who else can you puke on but your sister.

Star: (Bursting in the door) I PUKED! I puked on Scientist, I puked on her coat. I PUKED on Scientist's coat!

Scientist: (Trudging in) Someone puked on my coat, star puked on my coat. I do not want to wear this coat anymore.

At which point I was doing everything I could to control my laughter. When I found out that Scientist had made Star laugh so hard that she puked up the birthday cake she had eaten I couldn't contain myself any longer and covered my head with a blanket until I laughed till I cried.

See, this is what you need sisters for, to make you laugh so hard you have some sort of bodily fluid come out of you involuntarily.

The importance of Clinton Klett

2011-04-02T14:00:00.000-04:00

So I work at an urban High School. I really enjoy it. I find these kids particularly charming. As difficult as it is, and as much as I whine about it (oh, and how) I feel privileged that these kids share their lives with me. I also am grateful that my life is bigger than me, what is going on in my own house. I like that God has given me a heart for people who have it a whole lot harder than I do. I like watching so many of them rise from their circumstances and succeed.

Anyway, I went to an assembly with my students yesterday. It was about post-secondary options, specifically, dual enrollment. Basically, the state of Georgia will give qualifying students the opportunity to go to college for high school credit for free. This is a great opportunity for most kids, but especially for mine for a couple of reasons. Most of my kids don't have parents or siblings or cousins who went to college, so they don't know what it is like or what to expect. If they can take one class while still at home and the rest at high school it is a good way to make the whole college thing less intimidating. Also, no one needs FREE college more than my kids. And they will likely go to school in GA and qualify for a lot of financial aid, which tax payers foot the bill for. So if the tax payers can pay for a credit once and not have to foot the bill for the high school credit as well, everyone is better off.

In order to promote this whole dual enrollment thing, the state produced a video that is on a website that they are requiring the couselors to make every kid watch. Here is my beef with the video. While it is supposed to be talking about ALL the different ways you can get college credit in high school, the video highlighted a single student. Clinton Klett. And he is as white as his name. Whiter even. He is a student at Georgia Tech and he came to tech with a ridiculous 27 hours worth of AP credit. There aren't even 27 hours worth of AP options offered at my school.

But there ARE options that COULD work for my kids. The move on when ready seems like it could really work for them, and some community colleges are right off Marta lines on purpose....but that isn't what the video focuses on. The video focuses on Clinton Klett, the white kid who aced his bajillion AP classes and talks about the benefit of being able to take less classes his Jr. and Sr. year instead of the cash benefit of graduating a semester or two early. Oh yeah, because Mr. Klett has the ability to bank roll little Clinton's education.

In don't mean to knock this kid. I am sure he worked really freaking hard in high school and think it is great that he gets to reap these benefits. But the focus of the video let MY kids know in no uncertain terms that this video was not designed with them in mind. If it was they would have had a Clinton Klett in smaller doses and had Myesha Parks who took the bus to night classes and can tell you how much money she saved and how she could support herself one year sooner. Or a kid talking about how the computer classes let them not have to listen to b.s. from teachers. That would get my students interested.

But they didn't. The lovely people who make all the statewide decisions for all the students in GA choose Clinton Klett as the sole spokesperson. Classic.

Stepping into psycho

2011-03-30T13:44:00.000-04:00

The radio station that I listen to in the morning has a segment called "stepping into psycho" basically it is when someone who is normally main stream decided they are going to do something crazy. Follow their boyfriend because they think he is cheating, or putting spy ware on their ex-girlfriend. Something that is sort of embarrassing to admit to.

Sometimes I feel like I have stepped into Christianity psycho. Whispers in your heart, following sensible soft leading, those are things Christians do. And talk about openly. But speak in tongues (I do that as of about six months ago) or tell people that while the ultrasound has so far only detected one heart beat your friend who had dreams the first time is having some more dreams this time. Your dad who got words the first time is having more words this time....and they include other members of the family. You can't quench a hope in your heart no matter how hard you try.

So here I am. Claiming twins again. Believing that this time is THE time. Getting chills when I type that. So, if you have a double infant stroller you aren't using....hang onto it until further notice. I still believe that I could need it.

What are you so afraid of?

2011-03-29T11:19:00.000-04:00

Well right now......

I am having a difficult pregnancy. According to my midwives I am perfectly healthy, and I am grateful for that. Truly I am. But compared to the Peanut? This is hell. I am low grade nauseous pretty much constantly. I haven't puked very often, but I could pretty much any second of any day. Just give me a reason. I have to be super careful when I brush my teeth and the pubescent boy musk that my students carry on them is NOT helping. But I would be willing to puke more often if these other two things would go away 1. The nasty "I'm about to puke" taste that is almost always in my mouth and 2. The copious amounts of saliva. Along with the gross symptoms and the exhaustion I am totally beat. And maybe not remembering is God's way of encouraging you to have a second one, but the first pregnancy was NOT this hard.. And this causes me to worry about the following things.

1. Last pregnancy was easy which equaled an easy baby. This time around does hard pregnancy equal super colicky baby? Seems like the only logical explanation to me.

2. What if this isn't the twins? Twin pregnancies are supposed to be harder than singletons. How on earth will I manage through that? For nine months? With two other children......maybe that is why I have been crying for mercy. I cannot even imagine.

3. What if I have been blogging about twins, claiming twins, praying for twins, and they never come. How many years before people think I am crazy......What if the prayer gets answered when I am 50? Peanut could be married and pregnant by then.

4. What if they do come? What if this time is the time? Then I will have 3 under 3, a full time job and a husband in PhD school. That sounds like it is worry worthy if I do say so myself. And I do.

5. Twin birth is not like normal birth, I won't be able to be in the tub, they will want me to deliver right in an operating room, I will most likely have a c-section. I am not happy about any of this.

6. We bought a station wagon off of Craigslist and not a mini-van. What if God sees this as a personal statement of unbelief and doesn't give me twins because I wasn't planning on them? What if I get them and then can't fit all the car seats, and then I can't sell the wagon, and then we have to take two cars everywhere?

7. What if this isn't really a baby? What if I am just having a weird stomach virus?

Okay....I think I'll stop before I embarrass myself further.....welcome to my head.

In the mean time

2011-03-28T19:16:00.000-04:00

I am being called to write a very transparent post about the whole twin business that I am struggling with.....in the mean time. This person has something very valuable to say.

http://jessicagottlieb.com/2011/03/its-my-birthday-and-you-have-to-listen-to-me/

At least he's honest....

2011-03-26T18:05:00.000-04:00

The other day the kids we babysit for twice a week were having eggs and toast for dinner that I was in charge of cooking. And while my cooking skills may have improved since high school, I'm still the girls who managed to burn canned green beans. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I think it had something to do with the phone ringing and that conversation being far more interesting than dinner.

Anyway, I had managed to think to ask Elizabeth how she cooked the kids eggs.....but I hadn't listened when she told me. Oops. Turns out the second half to that equation is just as important as the first. Who knew? My conversation with her oldest went something like this.

Me: When your mommy cooks you eggs, are they all yellow and kinda lumpy (I was hoping for scrambled. It is really the only way I know how to cook eggs.)

J: No, they are white.

Me: So they are white on the outside, are they easy?

J: Huh?

Me: When you bite them, is there yellow liquid?

J: Yeah! You bite the egg and yellow stuff squirts out!

So I knew how I was supposed to make the eggs......only I had never, ever made them like that before. And J is sort of a picky eater.....a vocally picky eater. I put the first egg in and managed to flip it yolk in tact. Then I got cocky. I tried to make three eggs at the same time while simultaneously toasting bread. I know this may sound like an easy task for most people. But what can I say, the kitchen simply isn't where my gifts lie.

So I am burning the toast and struggling with the eggs when J comes to look at my progress.

J: You aren't very good at cooking huh?

Me: No I'm not.

J: Yeah my mommy is really good at cooking (Note: this could not be more true)

Me: Your mommy is very good at cooking. You know who else is good at cooking?

J: Mr. Christian?

Me: Yes Ms. Abby doesn't have to be a good cook because Mr. Christian is.

J: (Clearly missing the gender equality lecture I am trying to give and only concerned about dinner.) Why didn't you bring him?

Very good question good sir. Very good question.

WHAAAA Get me OUT!!

2011-03-21T09:56:00.001-04:00

The Peanut has learned a new trick, and it isn't winning her any new friends, or even getting her fed what she wants (well her OTHER new trick, licking her lips, is getting her more strawberry pie. I can't help it. It is really cute). It is only making her, and me, and her babysitter tired and cranky.

The Peanut has figured out how to crawl up the walls of both the pack and play, and the crib. She then pulls herself into a standing position. This way she can't go to sleep when she doesn't want to. Lying on her back was allowing her to drift off into dream world. The only problem is.....she has yet to learn how to move herself from her standing position to the sitting one. She gets up there, gets herself stuck, and then gets PISSED OFF. SOMEONE GET ME DOWN! WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE ME UP HERE! Now I know some of you would say that I should just leave her there until she lets go. But I tried that, for far longer than I would ever admit to on the internet. The kid has a stubborn streak (we will go ahead and blame that on her father. Yeah..... Right....she gets that from her dad.) And you would think that eventually she would fall down, but she doesn't trust me. Or if you still don't believe me Christian has a meeting on Wednesday, if you are available to babysit you can see for yourself.

I don't know quite what we are going to do about it, but I was talking to my sister Jill on the phone and she pointed out how many spiritual applications this particular situation has. How many times does God put me in a situation the exact way I need to be in it, with everything I need.....and I manuever out of the situation to a position I have decided I would rather be in? I don't want to (apologize, get up on time, tell someone that really random specific word, confront someone, the list goes on.) so I do what I want instead of what God wants. Then I get really pissed that He would strand me there, standing up, cranky, and exhausted. How could God just abandon me in that situation? HOW DARE HIM! And I don't even have the decency to wiggle my butt back where it belongs. I call out louder and angrier furious that God would leave me in this position. I thought I had at least until the Peanut's second birthday before I say ~~my faults~~ her dad's faults so clearly in her.

So two questions for you, A.) Who else sees themselves in this situation? and B.) Does anyone know how to out smart my 10 month old? Even Elizabeth is stumped. She always has the answer!

Have Mercy

2011-03-19T21:42:00.001-04:00

I've been praying a lot since my last posts. About the twins mostly, when where, this time? Lord how long? And repeatedly I hear God tell me. "Pray for my mercy." So I am. I am crying out to God that He would have mercy on me. When I try to pray for the twins directly or ask God when or what to name this one if it is a singular, I get this: Pray for my mercy.

This is what I know about God's mercy. It is good, I live in it. It is different than God's grace. But I don't deserve it either. Last summer, shortly after I had Juliet I got an email that I was being surplussed. I would no longer be working at the school I was familiar with. Along with a new baby, I would have a new school in the fall. All my co-workers, my support system would be gone just when I needed them most. At least that is how I interpreted the move. While I do miss my co-workers very much, the move was merciful. My new school is a better fit for me in so many ways. Turns out as I was being a spoiled brat to God, letting Him know that I wanted what I wanted and hadn't He put enough on my plate, this is RIDICULOUS! It took about 8 hours at my current school for God to show me just how merciful He had been.

The Lord's mercy doesn't always look like I think it will. But sometimes it does. Like an impressionist painting, it is often only a picture we understand when we are able to take a step back from the situation. But sometimes it is as clear as a photograph. I suppose I will have to continue to pray for His mercy, and trust that my God is both merciful, and smarter than me.

What has God's mercy looked like in your life? Has it ever been something you initially were unhappy about?

Boppa is the best (name)

2011-03-15T16:08:00.002-04:00

I posted this as a comment at another site and I liked it so much that I'm posting it here as well. The back story is that this lady wrote an article wondering why adults called each other mommy. Why there are mommy blogs. And why marketers market mommy jewelry, mommy sweaters etc.. Anyway here is the Post.

"I have 3 adult Daughters and 4 Granddaughters and I am thrilled when My daughters call me Dad or Daddy. My (almost one year old) youngest Granddaughter says Da and dog but not yet Ma Mama or any combination there of despite my daughters best efforts to assist her in that direction. My Daughter can't wait to be called Mommy. I am most pleased when called Boppa a name bestowed on me by my oldest Granddaughter when she was about one. Boppa is a name that I will probably be called increasingly by children and adults 'till the Lord takes me home and I can think of no greater honor. Then again no one is marketing Boppa bags or jewelry."

What is happening?

2011-03-11T10:43:00.000-05:00

Last week I was seriously craving a burger with barbecue sauce and cheese on it. Seriously. I needed one. So we went to taco-mac and got said burger with a side of onion rings. It was delicious. And the pickle on the side was perfect. I am aware of the cliche but I am having a pickle problem this time around. I then proceeded to go outside for some fresh air and I proceeded to hurl the entire dinner up right on the patio. (Thank God it was empty.) Then I had to go tell the hostess that I was terribly sorry but I am pregnant and just hurled all over her patio. And could I please have another pickle? Okay, I didn't say that last part. But I wanted to.

During work time for a major project that is due at the beginning of next week. The three Latinos in third block have elected to take this time to up their ante and proceed to some very physical comedy which includes but is not limited to:
*Stealing my flashlight out of my cupboard, pointing it right at me, then calling my name so I will turn and be temporarily blinded
*Saying they put the flashlight back and then organizing themselves so that one turns of the light, one waives the lit flashlight all over the room, and one beats on the desk and makes "club noise" music at the exact same time. As though a dance party has suddenly invaded my room.
*Getting out my first aid kit and attempting to put band aids all over themselves. When they are denied the band aids, coloring all over themselves with red marker and insisting they are bleeding to death.

And finally, the Peanut now says two words (maybe four, we can't tell if BAY-BEEE and da-da are purposeful). They are Hi! and DOG! both with enthusiasm dog always in a loud volume. Yesterday I had this conversation while my dad laughed from the other room:

Me: Say mama
Peanut: DOG!
Me: No....mama
Peanut: (Pointing at Colt) DOG! DOG!
Me: I'm mama
Peanut: (Squirming to get to the dog) DOG! DOG! DOG!
Me: (Redirecting) Hey, I'm mama, mama.
Peanut: (looking right at me but pointing to Colt) DOG!
Me: Fine, see if he will feed you in the middle of the night
Peanut: DOG! DOG!

In case you didn't catch that last bit...she still wakes up at least once a night........I just hope there is space between when she starts sleeping through the night and September......

Promises, promises

2011-03-10T15:28:00.000-05:00

I have two friends who are adopting. One in state infant adoption. One international adoption from Russia. A six year old they met through FORO last summer. Both stories are incredible. Both women are blogging about their journeys here and here. I feel so privileged that they would share their stories with me (and the rest of the Internet.)

Both women have child that has been promised to them. In very different circumstances God spoke into their hearts another member of their family. And their stories speak to me. Recently one of them had a mother change her mind during the ten day waiting period that is the law in Georgia. I can't imagine. I simply cannot imagine the emotional turmoil.

I also cannot imagine going through it with the grace she is exuding. The peace and calm she uses to articulate the experience. The trust she has in the Lord. The readiness in her heart to say "I must have heard you wrong. I will follow you to the depths for my baby." I ran into her just days after she got the call. She was at a consignment sale, picking out clothes for the baby girl she knows is coming home.

I waited in line with her and she talked about the need to mourn with the Lord. To acknowledge the disappointment as she renews her strength to move forward on the path God has put her on. I was struck by this, convicted by what has not been done in my own heart.

I've blogged about it before, the promise of twins I am sitting on. The word that was spoken into my heart years before I wanted to conceive. The names given to me. The friends from afar waking in the middle of the night to pray for twins, the friend who didn't know I was pregnant asking God to open my womb and fill it with twins. But I don't know that I touched on the disappointment I felt when I saw the ultrasound. The one that announced "It's a girl!" It's one girl........hmmm. This was not what I was expecting.

To put it mildly, I freaked. And I'm not southern, so I don't put a smile on my face and let the emotions quietly rage inside. I have a good old mid-western fit and fall in it. I screamed and cried, I told God I thought He was a real a**hole. I called a few of my closest friends to tell them I could not possibly raise a girl. I wanted a girl, eventually. But this time I wanted the twins. The ones I had been telling people about, because the Holy Spirit was leading me to. People who didn't even believe in God, let alone believe that He speaks to people. And so specifically.....even some of the people at my church thought I was out of my ever loving mind! I mean, prophesied twins, boy twins at that. It's all so Old Testament, and that was a long time ago. Surely, God no longer speaks in that way.

I am hesitant to write about this because I don't want the Peanut to think she was ever anything less than completely wanted. While she wasn't the twins I was expecting (and AM expecting), she is more than I could ever ask for, and I am so glad she got here first. But I was disappointed, because I thought I had heard....I know I had heard. I just didn't hear fully.

In the months after the peanut was born the craziest thing happened. As I understood what it meant to be a mother I realized my boys weren't with me, and I had no idea where they were. I want to adopt and am really open to the idea of an older child, sibling group, out of foster care adoption. I was terrified that the twins MY BOYS were in a home where they weren't being nurtured and loved. The comfort I received as a I sang "Jesus Loves Me" to my baby..... I clung to the line They are weak but He is strong. But I was completely unsettled, like a dog when you take away her puppies.

Until I went to my home church over the summer. And I was prayed over that God would speak clearly to me about those twin boys. And He did with one word: pregnancy. Okay, I thought maybe next time. And (in case you missed my facebook announcement) it is next time. Sooner than we had expected and interesting in timing, but none the lest perfect as a baby and God's timing always are.

But I've already cried twice over the possibility that this isn't it. Not the twins. There are just so many questions I have. If not now, then when? If this isn't it, and then we get the twins that is 4 biological children. How will there be room to adopt after that? What happens if I only have one boy? Do I name him the 3rd favorite name (which we can't agree on) because I am saving the other two for the twins. Do I name him twin one name assuming we will adopt another boy who will end up being the second twin? And the loudest in my heart.....How long Lord? How long will you make me wait for my boys? Will I be as old as Sarah, laughing at the possibility? Did I hear for future generations, what I thought was my own? Will I spend my entire life waiting on something that will never come to pass?

I haven't been dealing with these questions, with the disappointment of things not working out the way you thought they would (even though that way wasn't BAD, peanut, it was perfect). Instead I took my promise of twins and put it in the deep corner of my heart I had put my healing in and shut the door. And whether or not this is THE tine, the Lord has let me know pretty clearly that now is the time to deal with that place. And I am trying. But I am struggling with how....and I could use your help. How do you deal with promises that are in your heart.....but not yet in your life? How do you deal when you hear God incorrectly....incompletely?

The Lord has repeatedly proven He is faithful, so I need to trust Him to bring them to me. As if on cue He led me here and here, two women who heard what the Lord said about their babies.

Oh yeah, He MAKES me lie down in green pastures

2011-03-03T13:45:00.000-05:00

I got into a car accident last week. And my mantra since then has been ~~oh crap this hurts~~ I'm fine. Really I'm fine. I know I am wincing a little but I am fine. I went to school on Friday, I didn't get my prescription filled. I ~~was in denial~~ didn't need it. I was fine really. Saturday I hit the ground running and didn't stop until 8 or so when I finally realized I really did need that Tylenol 3. And no pharmacy was open. I got it Sunday before church. Or more accurately during church (the CVS didn't open until 10).

But I didn't really think I needed them that bad. I went to work on Monday and my head was pounding the whole day. I was pretty sore by the time I got into bed. And by Tuesday morning I couldn't hardly move. I was planning to go to school the next day till I almost passed out at Walmart while simultaneously telling my sister I didn't need any thing. It was awful. I called into work on Tuesday and Wednesday and basically sat on the couch sleeping and watching the Cosby Show on netfix.

And now is the part where we talk about my issues. YEAH! I got super sick with mono in Jr. high which lead to fibromyalgia, which I was miraculously healed from. (More about that here.) So I have been out sick from everything more than your average person. And teenagers can be mean. And when you don't look sick it is really easy to assume that you are being a totally weenie pants when in fact you are not. You are actually in a lot of pain. But then a doctor suggests it is fakey, then you start thinking maybe you ARE just soft and you are already a teenager so everything in your head gets very confusing and you can at times convince YOURSELF you are fine when in fact you are clearly not. You are in fact, lying on the ground outside Walmart.

I wouldn't give myself enough grace and I certainly wouldn't just stop. I SHOULD be able to handle it after all. Why wouldn't I? Come on Abby, you pushed a baby out, just go to work sore. But I just couldn't anymore. And guess what? My kids did not light my room on fire. In fact, my room was cleaner and more organized than when I left and my department head was just glad I seem to be doing better. The only one who wouldn't give me a break was me.

God teach me to treat myself with the same grace I extend others.

Why I get mocked

2011-02-28T13:24:00.002-05:00

Friday I was surfing the internet as my kids were working on their form poetry. A couple of kids wrote some really good villanelles. Really good. It was awesome.

So I am clicking through my normal list of blogs and one of my funny latino gentemen says to me.

"Mrs. Norman, are you looking up how to be a good mom on the internet?"

"Ummm, I guess you could say that. Yeah."

"This is why we make fun of white people."

To which one of my black girls chimed in, "For real Ms. Norman"

Attitude adjusted

2011-02-27T18:00:00.000-05:00

So as you could see from this post I've been a little out of sorts lately. Wednesday I asked my small group to pray that I would get a celestial attitude adjustment. I had expressed some fear in praying for that for myself as God is usually as subtle with me as a two by four to the temple. It may have something to do with me lacking subtly myself. Y'all, those folks can pray! By Thursday at lunch I had realized I was feeling much better about my job, and decided to reward myself by heading Chick-fil-A and picking up lunch. The day was BEAUTIFUL and was even more beautiful when I talked to my Detroit sister and compared it to her winter warnings. (Seriously, why do people live there?) The perfect lunch run was topped off by.....my car stalling out in the parking lot. When I came back from picking up my original chicken sandwich,(McDonalds, please stop trying. Southern style is clearly code for Chick-fil-A rip off) my engine would not quite turn over, and yes I made sure it was in park.

I was freaking out. I was supposed to be back for a meeting at 12:25 and I had forgotten to tell anyone I was off campus! I also should have saved my two "must call if you are going to be out" people in my phone about a month ago but I haven't gotten around to it. (Dang....my procratination is showing out lately.) It hadn't even been running hot! How could this happen? I tried to sit there calmly and wait five minutes. But a few minutes into that patient five I just yelled "God, I really need my car to start!" and turned the key. No problem. I was back at school in five minutes flat. I was pretty pumped and singing praise.

Oh how easy it is to sing praise when your car starts. So my day ended and I hopped in the car, rolled my windows down and took off. Seriously, no traffic. I am officially out of my funk, Praise The Lord. When WHAM I got hit by a guy who had passed out and crossed the center line, and hit my drivers side door on the way to the tree on the other side of the street.

No major damage that I know of. I am going to get checked better on Monday because I am still really sore. This is what I know. If Memorial had been as bad as it usually is, it could have been a lot worse, with a lot more cars involved, and he probably would have hit me far more head on. Which would have been worse.

So praise God that I am not in the hospital, and maybe I will stop wallowing in the funk next time and be careful about praying for an attitude adjustment. Because I think I got one.

Operator Error

2011-02-22T11:02:00.000-05:00

So I hopped in my car last Monday, and it wouldn't turn on. I was a little annoyed, but not extremely. It has been running kind of hot lately and I had had a big weekend. I thought maybe I had left the light on or something. Seemed like a battery issue to me. Besides, Christian doesn't really need a car on Monday, we would figure it out when I get home.

Except me and my husband......we both procrastinate. He took me to school on Tuesday and my sister Jill came and picked me up and we got the peanut. We would look at it on Wednesday....but we didn't....and Calvin came to get me on Thursday. Finally, yesterday we got around to looking at my lovely Craigslist special.

We were stumped, until Christian went to throw it in neutral and found that I had never put it in park when I got out Saturday night.....so it wasn't in park when I went to start it Monday. So it wouldn't start. Christian was so glad it was a free and easy fix he wasn't that annoyed with me.

Man, this would be far less embarrassing if it was the first time it happened..........

Agape Fail

2011-02-21T21:41:00.000-05:00

So it's about to get real. You have been warned.

Last week my principal, who I have a great amount of respect for, came to observe my classroom. He was unimpressed. It did not go well.

There were lots of factors that went into this bad day, as there are a million factors that go into every day. Essentially, I told my kids to do xyz, but they didn't and I simply did not have the energy to walk around and tell each kid individually to get it together. So I more or less let them off. Then my principal, who really puts his money where his mouth is and gives everything he has every single day, walks in the door. And my kids are pretty much sitting there.......and some are sleeping. Not my best moment. Easily one of my worst moments as a teacher.

I wish I could say I recovered beautifully, but I did not. Pretty much the whole observation was like that.Ugh. But I am not surprised that this all went down because recently I have been suffering from a lack of love. It is love my neighbor month at 1027 church. A time when we are challenged to step back from ourselves and take a look at the people around us. Reflect on how God is calling us to serve our neighbors and heed that call.

And if I am going to be honest for a moment (you know because I usually put myself in such a positive light on this thing.....) I don't feel like it. I simply don't feel like it. I don't want to be bothered with going above and beyond. I want to do my part, and have everyone else do their part....and if there is slack have someone else pick it up. When God puts on my heart to love my neighbor, I want to tell Him it isn't my turn. How about you choose someone else to love my students for a change and let me teach poetic language and then go home?

I know that part of it is that I am a public school teacher and it is February. March is looming and looking long. Christmas break was so long ago and spring break is not coming fast enough. And I have one of those professions where it is just really obvious when you are and aren't loving your students (clients, patients, whatever you call them). I know that the loving thing is to be patient one more day, give the kid one more reminder as to what successful behavior is, give every lecture 100 percent because not only is it the loving thing, but my kids are already behind, and can't afford anything less. And I am tired. And loving my students takes energy that I don't have and a hope that I am not sure exists in me anymore. It takes time that I would rather spend doing something else, something that didn't require me to look beyond myself.

Wow, that is ugly. But if I am honest it is how I feel right now. These sentiments accurately reflect what is going on in my heart. And it is I love my neighbor month, and I am suffering from some serious agape fail. Snap out of it Abby.......there are people with real problems in the world.

Essays from my esses

2011-02-17T21:02:00.001-05:00

So I had the equivalent of a who's on first spanglish conversation in my class today. It was again by my three jokers in fourth period. The conversation that had me rolling today went something like:

Me: Boy #1, what are you doing? Get out your essay!

Boy #1: Hey! I'm the esse!

Me: No, esse I mean your essay, the one you are supposed to be writing.

Boy #1: You can't call me that. That is racist

Me: Fine, write your paper. Boy #2 where is your essay?

Boy #2: (Pointing to boy #3) Right there! Esse!

Boy #3: Hey! Esse!

Me: BLAH! Everybody get out a piece of paper and write on it!

That last bell can never ring quite soon enough.

60 degrees and GRUMPY?!?

2011-02-15T11:58:00.001-05:00

It has been a little chilly here lately. It even snowed on Thursday, and there wasn't even a two hour delay! What the heck is the point of that? But not this past weekend. This weekend the weather was so amazingly sunny, and reached 60 degrees. 60 degrees! In February! Evey year these random warm February days surprise me. Isn't it March that is supposed to be in like a lion and out like a lamb. Not south of the Mason Dixon baby!

For a short time when we first moved down here I had a job that made me tool around the city of Atlanta in prime gouge your eyes out traffic hours. Coming down 400 at 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon? Comparatively water boarding doesn't seem that bad. But occasionally we would have these amazing gorgeous February days and suddenly the drive wasn't that bad. I could put the windows down! In February! Are you hearing me, I could drive around with the windows down before St. Patrick's day. (And not because the windows stopped working at an inopportune moment at the drive thru and the car you were driving was in lieu of a payment your dad's client could not afford to pay. Then you just had to pretend it was 60 degrees and sunny. Jill, Em, holler if you hear me.)

It didn't matter if it took 45 minutes to go 15 miles. I had my windows down. I would put my sunglasses on and smile. I would put my bare hand out of the window and start working on my ring tan. I could handle the traffic, see it as a blessing even because I had come from a place where I appreciated sunny, beautiful, February days. PEOPLE, I wanted to scream, SOMEBODY THROW A PARTY I HAVE MY WINDOWS DOWN IN FEBRUARY ON PURPOSE!

I will never forget the day I saw a guy in his convertible, with the top down, in February, mad as could be because apparently someone cut him off. I started laughing. I could not believe that someone could be that angry when they were sitting in their amazing car with the top down in the middle of winter. This guy clearly did not know what it was like to go without the sun for a month at a time. He didn't know that there are people in the Midwest who lose their sunglasses every season because they go that long without needing them. He just didn't get it. He did not have problems, how can you have problems with your top down in February?

I wonder how many 60 degrees and grumpy moments I have in my own life. Not about the weather, but metaphorically. I mean, I have a great husband and a healthy, happy baby. I go to a job, that while tedious when it comes to paperwork, I mostly enjoy. I actually believe I am making a difference. I like my students and my co-workers. So when I roll out of bed and just don't feel like going? I need to recognize the blessing that is my life. I need to realize that over all my life is 60 degrees in February, maybe somebody did cut me off, but considering the overall circumstances, I can let it slide.

Be careful what you lick

2011-02-10T12:42:00.000-05:00

A week or so ago we were all hanging around on the bed after we had folded some laundry, the husband, the peanut and myself. I was running in and out of the room, probably putting away the ridiculous amount of shoes I had out. Probably not. Probably thinking about how I should put them away while I walk past them repeatedley and avoiding the copious amounts of clothes I have been ~~leaving on the futon~~ re-organizing for a month and a half.

Anyway, the peanut was crawling around on the bed testing things out by, you know, putting them in her mouth. (My cousin calls this the dog stage.) She managed to pull the ac adapter chord out of the baby monitor and was staring intently at it. I then left the room and figured her dad would keep this day from turning into babies first emergency room trip. The next thing I know I hear a cry come out of the room....

From the husband! Turns out the peanut put the ac adaptor in her mouth and made a face like it didn't taste very good. I am sure it doesn't. Christian thought, surely if she is reacting like that it has to be no, or very little shock. Apparently the baby has a high pain tolerance? Who knows. But your tongue does in fact complete the circuit.

How many times have I done this in my life, looked at somebody else and said, "I know that is not the best idea, or exactly in God's plan.......but they haven't gotten burned by it! Surely I can get away with it too!" You can guess how many times that thinking has worked out for me......

Oh, and after we got done laughing hysterically about it, the husband asked me, "This is going to go in your blog, huh?"

Oh, yes.....because I am not in charge.

2011-02-09T12:29:00.000-05:00

Just moments ago I found myself hollering at my students "I don't like having to defend my choices to you! I am aware of what is going on in other people's classrooms. I know what they are and are not doing. I have a reason we are doing things the way that we are."

Then I thought about the conversations I have been having recently with God. I wonder if He ever wants to yell that at me. I am so glad He has more patience than I. But maybe I need that hollered at me.
"Abby, I don't like having to defend my choices to you. Don't you trust me enough to know that I make the best choices for you? Yes, I am aware how it has worked for your (sister, friend, someone you heard about once). Don't you think I set that up as well? I have reasons as to why we are doing things this way. Trust me."

The kid with the fish

2011-02-07T14:59:00.000-05:00

I have a good friend who lives down the street. Brooke is a single woman who loves God and the city. Basically, she listens to God and then does what He tells her. It seems to be working for her

One day, through a series of happenstance (that can only be God when you look back at them) she started babysitting for a woman who had recently left an abusive relationship and needed someone to watch her three kids while she waited tables (lets be honest, how great of a shift do you have to have in order to make it worth coming to work after you have paid the sitter?) Brooke was initially torn about babysitting. Who wants to commit your Saturday afternoons? She considered farming out the job to me and my husband, or another couple that lives in the neighborhood. But the Lord spoke into Brooke's heart and she listened.

God told Brooke, you are single and you will never have more time than you do right now. I want you to do this. Can we pause there for a second.... I know that there are some serious struggles to being single. I can't imagine how hard some of it all is and I don't want to be one of those married people who is all "single is FUN single is FREE what the heck are you complaining about!" Single is lonely sometimes, waiting on God is hard, feeling a little like your adult life is in limbo must be kinda weird....like you are pregnant without a due date. I think it is cool that Brooke recognized that God had her in a circumstance purposefully. He wasn't all "Hey, when you are partnered up, then you can do something. Till then, chill out." And God doesn't say to me "You were of use to me when you didn't have all those husband, baby, house strings. But now that you have all those obligations I don't expect you to serve me." He uses the circumstances He put us in in the first place.

Anyway, so Brooke goes to babysit. She sees that this mom, Elizabeth, is doing everything she can, but seriously: not enough hours in a day (Lord, can you do something about that? 26?). She comes back to the small group we host at our house and asks if maybe a group of people can come over to weed wack her backyard. Brooke's heart is burdened for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth starts attending 1027 and bringing her kiddos. She feels loved their. I have the peanut and she finds the time to take her three children grocery shopping and then bring my family dinner. Meanwhile, Christian and I are trying to come up with the perfect childcare plan. We only need someone two days a week, surely, surely we can just trade with one of the part time mom's at the church, right? They have one kid, we have one kid..... then we started praying about it. Three days later Christian and I confered. It went like this "I got a name, did you get a name?" "Yeah, what name did you get? "What name did you get?" "You first." "No you." (We are so mature.) "I got Elizabeth" "Good, me too."

I called her and the conversation went something like this. "Do you want to swap two days a week childcare for two nights a week childcare?" "Yes." "Great."

And now? I hate using the term "babysitter" because that isn't what the relationship feels like to me. Bonus parent maybe, advisor, parenting mentor, really good friend. Bearer of wine and dinner after a parent teacher night from hell. Yeah that too. She adores the peanut, and we adore her kids. Her daughter calls the peanut her sister and makes up stories to the picture books as she holds the book out to show her the pictures.
I was talking to Brooke, about how blessed I feel. About how when I was still in the hospital the Lord put Elizabeth so heavy on my heart I asked Christian if we should change the peanut's name. About how she has blessed my family so incredibly by answering the Lord's call. She told me she felt like the kid with the fish. She brought what she had (three hours on a Saturday) and the Lord has multiplied that beyond her wildest dreams. The Lord has multiplied her gift to meet the needs of the people around her. How cool is that?

And that is my prayer. Lord, help me to hear you. And may you multiply the fish that I bring.

The Good Daughter

2011-02-03T21:44:00.000-05:00

I grew up in a house with two older sisters. The Lord deemed my parents as excellent girl-raisers. So they got three girls. A couple at my church is expecting their third girl, I believe it is a compliment from God. A sign that they are doing a remarkable job with the first two.

Anyway, while each sister has her different strengths and weaknesses, there is definitely a thick stripe in all of us that marks us as from the same tribe. We all marched in the marching band in some capacity, we all did the musicals, we were all in the high school choir at some point and took some honors classes. We all came to know the Lord at relatively young ages and were active in our faith by high school. This didn't escape the eye of many teachers and various peers.

One way that we attempted to distinguish ourselves, mostly in a joking manner, was being "the good daughter." I am not even sure how it happened, how we started yelling it. But one of us would announce, "I did the dishes, so I am the good daughter today!" or "I'm the good daughter because I helped cook while everyone else sat around on their butt!" When Em was the only bearer of the grand-babies, she had serious good daughter status. How do you compete with that?

Later it morphed into, I am the good daughter because I am the only one who didn't mess up today. I won't broadcast their business on the internet, but I remember the day that two major mess ups came in, one on each sister. I was the good daughter that day for sure. I remember it happening because it was so rare!

We still do it, joke about being "the good daughter." If you are the first one to call on a birthday or anniversary, or if you are the only one in town. You are the good daughter. It is all in good fun for us. But I agree with the sentiment that there is a sliver of truth to everything you joke about.

I think we, me...my sisters...all of us, we like the idea of being favored. Who doesn't want to be the favorite? If you are the favorite then the good you do is extra good, and the bad you do isn't so bad after all. Who doesn't want to be seen through that lens? The part that makes it a little messed up, is the comparison aspect. If I am the favorite that means I am held in MORE favor than someone else. I don't think only children think being the good kid is any big deal. Of course they are the favorite, there isn't another choice.

That is how the Lord is different. He doesn't operate with a concrete amount of favor and once He runs out, sorry about your luck. God is big enough, His love is big enough that everyone can be His favorite. (Someone on the prayer team at my home church prayed that over me, I am not smart enough to realize this on my own.) No seriously, wrap your mind around that. This second you can start claiming that according to God, YOU are the good daughter. Somebody at work not treating you right? That sucks, but rest in the fact that you are God's favorite. Really hard on yourself because you can't lose the rest of the weight you are trying to lose? Keep trying, God favors you.

It doesn't make any sense if you think about it too hard. How can each person be favored, doesn't the word favor connotate picking something above the rest? (Whoa there English teacher I think you are taking your job a little too seriously.... What you gonna diagram the next sentence?) It does. Normally. But God doesn't have to operate within those rules. His love is big enough to allow me and you to be His favorite. So bask in that. You are favored by God. God favors you.

All of this is true, you have to believe it. Because today I am His "good daughter."

Enough already

2011-02-01T10:49:00.000-05:00

I grew up in a pretty middle class exsistence. Two parents, two siblings, a dog. Sometimes things were tight, but mostly if we really wanted it, our parents found a way to make that happen. Even if that meant picking up a paper route to get to horse camp, or an after school office job to get to Spain. I certainly didn't know what it meant to not have enough food, even if it wasn't the fruit snacks and doritos that graced my friends cupboards. We got by.

At the lake, where there were more people to feed and keep happy but there were the incredibly generous grandparents, as well as some sort of system in place to insure everyone got their piece. A caper chart, a line going by age, an aunt telling the older cousins "only three meat balls till everyone has had some!" There was either so much that everyone could have as much as they wanted (candy on the porch), or some system in place to make sure that everyone at least got enough (half a pan is more than one serving, put the lasagna back).

In the fall of 2007 I started teaching at a "high needs" school. High needs is politically correct for poor. In this case really poor. Ninety-eight percent of my students were on free lunch. The other two percent had lives so chaotic no one bothered to fill out the form. It was my first experience with never enough. The books we were assigned by the county to read? There weren't enough for every tenth grade classroom to even have a class set. You had to anticipate the reading of them, and then sneak in and take them before the other teachers. Even then I only got 28 for my class of 34. We didn't have enough desks. In fifth period it was first come first serve. My kids would race to class in order to ensure they did not have to sit on the floor. In October we ran out of paper. This was a complete shock to me, but teachers (older and wiser than me) had seen it coming and squirled away as much as they could the previous months. They still ran out. I ran out of extra pencils and paper. There weren't enough expo markers or computer time. There wasn't even enough toilet paper in the student bathrooms.

It is crazy what always running out of things does to people. You are constantly scheming to get what you need. Constantly. If there are ten extra pieces of paper in the fax machine, you take them. If you find an extra dry erase marker on the floor you put it in your pocket. You do not stop to consider that it is someone elses. You need it. Do I have extra tape? Technically yes, but I am going to shrug my shoulders and say "sorry" because I can be pretty sure that when I do eventually run out of tape, there will be none available. When you get an email that says: come by the library if you want xyz, there is a stampede of grown people. It makes you stingy, it makes you take things that aren't yours. An incredible amount of your energy is taken up by figuring out how you can get what you need.

I think it is easy to judge behavior when you don't understand. I remember when I was seventeen and earning my gold award at a homeless shelter for families. Whenever we gave the kids anything, even if it was the same thing to every kid, they would steal it from each other. I thought this was ridiculous. Now I get it. Who knows when you are going to have a chance to get another pencil? Better take as many as I can get now.

It wasn't until I started teaching in this environment that I truly understood why God would describe himself as "enough" as "more than enough." If I believe that God is more than enough for me, (not just sing it, but really believe it) then I would act in a manner that shows I believe all of my needs will be met. I would give more. I could give away so much more because I wouldn't have to worry about stockpiling. So much of what I don't give comes down to trying to make sure I have enough just in case. But God says He is the enough. I don't have to scrimp and save. If someone else asks for something I have I can certainly give it to them.

I also don't have to take more than I need. For me right now that means food. I don't have to take a ton of something. I can take enough, and trust that that is enough, and I will have an opportunity to eat more of it at some later junction. (Isn't that weird? I am an adult. I do my own grocery shopping, I don't have to eat 15 packs of fruit snacks because I can buy them whenever I want. Why do I feel like I need all of them RIGHT NOW? I have issues.)

I'm not saying that I don't have to be responsible, or a good steward of what God has given me. I can act in a way that proves I have a never ending supply closet somewhere in my home. Because I do. Because God is enough.

In defense of feeling ambiguous about breastfeeding.....sort of

2011-01-29T19:57:00.000-05:00

You reopen a blog thinking you were going to write mostly about Jesus and two months later you tell the world about your boobs. What can I say, God works in mysterious ways?

Anyway, I follow the site Babble pretty closely. Yesterday they published an article about breast feeding vs. formula feeding that I thought was pretty reasonable. I also thought it wasn't really anti-breastfeeding. It just wasn't pro breastfeeding. But, as you find out when you get pregnant, somehow having a baby makes your body in a weird way public property. Thats right, even if you haven't posed for Playboy, people, strangers, strange people who don't even HAVE boobs, are allowed to have an opinion about your boobs. And what you should and should not be doing with them, and where, and when, and for how long. It is totally weird. Really, truly, weird. I wish there were a better way to describe it. It's weird.

Most articles and blog posts you read take a really strong stance. And I get it, I do. I do think breast feeding is important and most women not doing it for longer is simply a product of our incredibly crappy maternity leave and care in this country. I think everyone should be super positive and encouraging about breastfeeding because if it weren't for a friend stopping by after her 12 hour shift to get the peanut to latch, another friend paying for a lactation consultant, and some excellent advice from my sister and aunt who used to be a la leche league coach, I would have never been able to make it work. I was supported, that is why it worked for me.

But, there is a difference between being supportive, and making people feel like crap if they opt to formula feed. Especially if they have given it an honest try. Breastfeeding while Juliet was tongue tied was the most painful experience of my life. I had fibromyalgia for years, and pushed out a baby, and breastfeeding made me want to DIE. But that is a sign that something is wrong, so if that is how it is for you RUN to someone who can help you! So I get a little bristly when someone (even on the internet) puts "hard" in quotations marks when they feel like women just use it as an excuse. They, apparently didn't get their nipple chewed off by their oldest (the first time the peanut yells YOU DON'T LOVE ME! She will see the scar....by 16 she'll be like mom, put your boob away, fine I won't wear this short skirt) so maybe they should back off.

So I do support breastfeeding, but I do think that sometimes the hard gets glossed over because people want everyone to try it. In my experience not being totally honest about anything only makes that thing more difficult for everyone. With that I will say, there are pros and cons. Oh and I am only one person with only two boobs the experience that I am describing only applies to those two boobs.

Pro: It is free. You burn extra calories. It is ridiculously convenient. Seriously, no going for a bottle in the middle of the night or worrying about if you will have clean warm water available, is the baby here? Are my boobs here? Good to go.It made air travel very easy for us. Crying? Nurse her, she stops. There is something very cool about your body being able to provide for your child. For me, getting Juliet to latch and then going through the whole tongue tied thing made me feel like God uniquely designed me to advocate for her. It gave me confidence that I could be this babe's mom. I love coming home from work and her bouncing around like a maniac because she wants to get to me. Maybe if I wasn't the bearer of the boobs she would still do this because I am her mama. But I do love that moment. It has provided some very sweet moments that I may have missed because I am so go go go. I had to stop, and let her eat, and just hang out and hold her. I needed a reminder to do that sometimes. Especially when she was very little. You don't have your period. How cool is that?

Con: It hurt until we got the tongue untied, then it still hurt for a little bit. But we worked through it. I got approached for nursing in public, and it made me a little skiddish to nurse wherever whenever. Though I did get the opportunity to tell someone if they didn't like it they could arrest me. I also got a profuse apology from the property manager. I felt kinda like a bad-ass. I also got over the skiddishness. I hated pumping. Hated it. Leaking, but they make pads that work great. For me the cloth ones didn't cut it. I needed the disposable ones. But don't forget them when you teach high school boys! I have been more bra sizes in the last nine months then I was during my entire pubescent period. I thought they would just get big, then go back. It did not occur to me how much milk I needed to be making would be evident just by looking.

Looking at this list I think for me the pros absolutely way out the cons, and most of those cons would not have existed if a.) someone would have told me or b.) I would have had a normal experience. But pumping, it still sucks (no pun-intended). I do wish the way we talk about breastfeeding would be more approachable in this country. Instead of "breast is best" I think I will go with "hey, everybody likes boobs, even your baby, why don't you give 'em one!"

In which I become an internet sensation because my baby chokes on dog food

2011-01-26T13:01:00.000-05:00

We're having a little problem at our house. Our kid is a dog food lover. She has gotten increasingly mobile in the last couple of days. She scoots all around the house and is delighted when she gets under things, the excersaucer, the end table, the dining room table. In her new found mobility she has also found the ultimate goal of cruising around on her belly.

The peanut is totally into the dog food. She makes a bee-line for it and none of her favorite toys can distract her. Not even the stuffed dog that can say and spell her name. Heck, not even the actual dog can distract my child from the dog food. She loves it.

She loves playing in the dog food, playing in the water, and most importantly (and unfortunately) shoving as many pieces into her chubby chubby cheeks as she possibly can. Until, of course, some mean parent comes by, jams their finger in her mouth and makes her get rid of everything in there she was storing for later. It is truly gross. And a little dangerous, as she bites your finger with her four sharp teeth the whole time you are getting the dog food out of her mouth.

When I posted the dilemma on Facebook my two dear sisters pointed out that perhaps the eating of dog food is genetic. They cited the one time I ate dog food, in a car, because my two lovely sisters dared me to do it. Thanks guys. Now the whole world knows ~~that you tortured me~~ that I ate dog food. But the presiding parental sentiment was that I should let her do it because she will anyway. Alas, dog food is a choking hazard and I really don't want to be the parent who let her kid choke.....on dog food. Imagine the headlines.

But maybe my sisters are on to something. She may not get the dog food loving from me, but I can't deny I like things that are bad for me. Exhibit A: Reality television, especially anything featuring the Kardashian sisters. This can't be good for me, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. And Netflix offers episode after episode on demand. It's bad. Exhibit B: Food, in college I ate a grilled cheese sandwich and two pints of Ben and Jerry's for dinner on more than one occasion. Because I could, also because I could and only go a tiny bit over my meal plan. I wish I still had a meal plan.

I can't be the only one. Anyone else attracted to the proverbial dog food in their life?

Oscar Who?

2011-01-25T15:41:00.000-05:00

Apparently the Oscar nominations have come out today. I only know because I hear people talking about how they have never seen those movies. (Although, Toy Story 3 got nominated, that is on my: When does it get on Netflix? list.) Not only have I never seen the movies that are nominated, I have no interest in seeing most of them.

My taste in movies isn't what we would call refined. I used to like those dark and twisty films, the ones where nothing came out right and everyone ends up more messed up than they started. At least, I think I did. Maybe I spent a short period of time pretending I liked those films.....hmmm....

Ever since I started teaching I have had little use for the Oscar worthy films (except, the exceptions: Babe, Up, Wall E, Beauty and the Beast). When I go to a movie I want to see something that takes my mind off of everything, something that I can escape into for a moment. I read too many essays of kids who have survived far too much. I am not really interested in having that mess portrayed on film. I know it exists, and I know that I don't ever want to know how it really is. My kids are far too good at describing it all first hand.

Call me low brow (after all I do like dips and soups featuring Velveeta) but I like movies that end.....well....more or less happily ever after. I like to feel good after I have left my cushy seat and sticky space on the floor. At least, I like to feel emotionally good, I also enjoy the slightly sick feeling of too much popcorn. But I like those 90-120 minutes to take me to a place where the couple who should end up together does end up together, where parents don't mess up epically, where lost dogs find their way home, and if I am really lucky animals talk.

I have been thinking recently about how Christ followers truly are strangers in a strange land, aliens in an alien world. We are not meant to be forever in this world, and thus are not totally comfortable here. I am not saying I don't enjoy my life, or there aren't moments that don't feel absolutely perfect. But I think those rapturous moments are preludes to the rapture. Glimpses of the amazing life we have waiting for us in heaven. I think it feels wrong sometimes because this isn't the way God designed it. I know that. Deep in my soul I feel it. Lots of people do. I think it is why we don't want to watch movies that remind us of that ugly truth. We all are longing for our happy ending. And God says we're going to get it.

The baby slept through the night?

2011-01-25T12:29:00.000-05:00

This morning I woke up at 5. I was in shock because the peanut normally wakes up at like 3 claiming she is starving. STARVING! Help her parents are starving her!!!! We usually don't go in until she has cried for ten minutes, she has never failed to just start screaming louder at the ten minute mark. If she knew how to call child protective services, she would and scream at the top of her lungs THESE PEOPLE WON'T FEED ME! This would be fine, but she is almost nine months old. I was told babies start sleeping through the night at 6. I was lied to.

But last night I didn't wake up, until I sat up at five shocked that I hadn't been woken up earlier. In my haste to get out of the house on time I guess I was pounding around pretty loudly. Christian woke up to make sure I hadn't fallen down the stairs. I promised him I had not and then remarked "Hey, the baby slept through the night!"

Turns out the mommy slept through the night. Thanks honey, for covering the 3 am feeding.

You know, I have heard some version of this story numerous times by numerous parents......only it is always the dad who is the heavy sleeper........

Sometimes, it all comes down to boobs

2011-01-22T18:55:00.000-05:00

So, my day job is teaching high school kids. I think the litmus test for teaching high school should be do you think immature high school boys are funny? If the answer is no, you will be unable to keep your sanity. However, if the answer is yes, you can be entertained all day. This particular post has no spiritual application. I just thought the conversation was hilarious.

I have a large Mexican contingent this semester in my last block. These three boys have promised to keep my on toes. No post lunch napping for me! This was the conversation we had the other day.

Me: Okay, now that we know what plot is I want you to get into groups of two or three and think of a movie you all have seen. Then I want you to diagram the plot. I will call on you in 5 minutes.

Boys (to each other): Okay we all have seen "Girls Gone Wild"

Me (interrupting): You can't do "Girls Gone Wild"

Boys: Why not? We've all seen it. You said, pick a movie you've all seen, we've all seen it.

Me: You can't do that movie because it doesn't have a plot.....Not that I have seen them, but from the commercials on TV, there is no plot

One boy: Sure there is the exposition they tell their name, then they are like no no I can't then-

Me: No boobs! The rule is no boobs so you can't do "Girls Gone Wild" choose something else.

Later we were doing this activity where you circulate a story so each group does a different piece. They received a story about a princess trying to find her father.

Boy: Then right as the bounty hunter is about to kill the dad, the princess flashes him-

Me: Don't I have a no boobs policy in here?

Boy: Flashes him with her flash light and he is blinded for a second so he misses with the ax. What were you thinking teacher?

Me: Oh, of course, what was I thinking......

Boy: Oh and we diagrammed our movie

Boy 2: Yeah it is "Dear John"" but no homo

I walked away. After the battle of the boobs I didn't have the energy to fight that one......

Seriously Starbucks? Trenta?

2011-01-19T21:46:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Starbucks announced that it is going to start serving their coffee in even larger proportions. As if my bladder needed more to handle (teachers can only pee during hall passing period you know.) It is like 30 something ounces. Basically it is like going into Starbucks and coming out with a Big Gulp.

I know the Starbucks Trenta is a bad idea for me. I do. But I also know that there will come a day when I will look at the difference in price and decide what the hey, it isn't that much bigger than a venti. Then I will walk out of the store with a gallon of sugary iced coffee goodness that is a single serving as it only has one straw coming out of it. That is what I will tell myself anyway. Then I will pee myself faster than when I was nine months pregnant and decided I could hold it all the way home from work. Another bad decision in my life.

I can't help it. I like too much of a good thing. I like to overindulge. Food, staying up too late, reading into the wee hours of the morning because just enough isn't enough for me. I want whatever I want until my stomach hurts, my eyes are bleary, I pee myself. There are people in my life who are so good at discipline and moderation. I am praying I become more like them. Especially before I have the Starbucks trenta option presented to me.