Note to self: Be Nice.

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

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!

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

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

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

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?

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?

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?

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

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!

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

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

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?

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

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.....

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

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?

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!

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?

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!