I love Facebook, and I hate Facebook. It is a source of constant addiction for me. But I have decided that it is also the 21st Century version of "keeping up with the Jones'..." (which is ironic since that's the name of my husband's maternal side of the family...sigh.) I realized this when a friend of mine called and commented on how clean my house always is. My thought: Have you seen my house lately? Are you losing eyesight? Should we contact an Optometrist? Who is this? Do you even have the right number? I went on to explain the great lengths I go to to only publish pictures where you can't see the PILES of clothes, toys, dishes, bills, trash, etc. in the background. Most of the time I angle the camera in such a way just so you can't see all of that. I have even been known to shove the pile to the other end of the table just to give the illusion that my table is clean. I think most people do that...maybe not to the extremes I go to, but to some degree. We don't want anyone to see our mess. We want to "publish" a perfect life. We want the world to see our awesomeness. Plain and simple. If my 707 Facebook "friends" think I'm awesome, it must be true. Right? Wrong.
Since this whole blog is dedicated to laying it out there, to being real, let's do it. It's my life in a fishbowl. And let me tell you, I need a plecostomus! Ya know, a sucker fish. The ones that thrive in the murky water of a fishbowl. The ones that you put in with your goldfish whose tank you never clean in hopes that they will eat all the algae and other freakish nastiness that has grown on the sides of the tank. I need one of those. Because...
I am FAILING at awesomeness. I mean, I am miserably failing.
Let's start with the house. Ok, seriously people, how many times can I step over the exact same stuff and not just bend down and pick it up? Apparently for weeks. I have been standing on the same Baby Animals book while I brush my teeth and do my makeup for at least a week. Unless my toes learn to read, I don't think it's going to do me much good down there.
About a month ago I brought our basket of cleaning supplies up to our bathroom....because, well, the bathroom should be cleaned at least twice a year. That particular day I put the basket in the bathtub to keep the chemicals out of a one year old's reach. They are still there. It's been a month. A MONTH. I know The Hubs is wondering if this is the new designated cleaning supply spot. And has the bathroom been cleaned? Nope. I guess the cleaning supplies don't do it themselves. Dang!
We can go right on from the bathroom to our bedroom. Why did I EVER think I needed that many pillows on the bed. Honestly. There must be 42 of them, and they are everywhere. And do you think they ever make it to the bed? Nope. Unless company is coming. And the cedar chest at the end of the bed is intended to be decorative. Maybe my laziness didn't get the memo. The top of the cedar chest now serves as a dresser, a shoe stand, a coat rack, and a holder of anything left on my bed when I crawl into it at night.
Downstairs we go. The only reason my dishes get done is because my husband usually does them. I live in a constant state of 367 loads of laundry. I can't get my act together enough to make it to the grocery store for everything I need, so I usually end up going at least four times in any given week.
I have weeds in my backyard that are taller than my children. One of said children is almost 9 (and her mother is 6 feet tall) so you can figure out how tall the weeds are. I found my mother and my next door neighbor back there pulling some of the weeds the other day. My neighbors are pulling my weeds. For real. It's bad.
I have taken my crabby baby to the store two days in a row now in a shirt and a diaper. Why? Because I get so busy running errands that I forget that occasionally her diaper needs to be changed. So eventually the soaking wet pants have to come off. And then there is the "bruise" that is covering her entire thigh. It's actually a stain from frozen blueberries that got past her mouth and melted next to her leg, but to get it off would require a bath and who has time for that?!?!
I live in workout clothes and a ponytail because I figure if I put them on my body I may just magically appear at the gym. On the days that I do make it there, it's really just to watch tv while I saunter on the treadmill, because thank you, Jesus, it is so peaceful with my headphones in my ears! And there is childcare. Can I get an AMEN??
I have been sneaking dark chocolate for the past week...until my husband found the wrapper. I "nicely" explained that every 28 days or so I get chocolate in celebration that we are NOT having another baby. So. Back. Off.
I have piles of books that would help me improve my life or something but I don't read any of them because every time I do I wake up with the book on my face. And speaking of reading, I can't finish a book to save my life. Not always because I fall asleep but sometimes because I get 2 chapters in and then start another one. I used to finish things. Is ADD contagious? I'm pretty sure I caught it.
We had to give our goldfish to the neighbors because we never fed them and that seemed mean. Now we have 2 hermit crabs. Did you know that you can actually go 2 weeks without feeding them and they will still live? It's fascinating. Our dog and cat on the other hand like to be fed on occasion. It usually happens every 2nd or 3rd day when I realize that I can see their ribs through their fur and the dog is whining to get into the shower to drink the water left on the floor. The worst part is that when I tell the kids to feed them, their response is usually, "we already fed them this week!" That is what I have actually instilled in my children about taking care of living creatures, you guys. The awesomeness continues to another generation.
I found my baby sucking on a tube of toothpaste today.
I fed my 4 year old Target popcorn and an Icee for lunch.
And the climax of my awesomeness demise happened this morning. When I forgot to pick up my friend's daughter for school. Yep. She's a Senior in High School. It's kind of an important week to be there. I forgot her. Left her sitting by her front door wondering if the preacher's wife has any brain cells left at all. Her fiancé left work to come get her for Heaven's sake. Awesomeness Fail.
As I was lamenting today about how bad I am at life right now, the Lord reminded me of 2 Corinthians 12:9 which says, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
All I have to say is the next Marvel movie better be about me and Jesus because if my weakness gives Him more power, The Avengers better watch out! Jesus' got my back!
So there you have it. From one awesomeless mom to another, tomorrow is another day to let Jesus do His thang! Cause I sure can't pull it off myself!
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Thursday, August 30, 2012
I AM Right Here
School has begun...again. Back to early mornings, quick breakfasts, lunch boxes, and getting dressed before noon. Back to backpacks, homework, projects and lots of time in the car. Sigh...time is going too fast!
I was reminded this week of how quickly the last year has flown by. It seems like I just took Hailee to her first day of Kindergarten...but that was a year ago. She struggled last year. The adjustment was so hard. My sweet baby girl in a great big public school. She was scared and we dealt with day after day, week after week, of fear. Terrible fear that would bring her to tears at bedtime, dreading the next day. Fear that would bring on immediate tummy aches and panic the moment her precious, hazel eyes opened in the mornings. It broke my mommy heart. So I would find myself bribing, hugging, yelling, worrying, ignoring, praying, comforting...trying anything I could think of to get her through the day, praying the next day would be better.
One particularly bad morning as I pried her fingers off of my arm and unwrapped her ankles from my leg (I had seriously begun to wonder if she was turning into a monkey!) in a pointless attempt to leave her in her classroom, I made a terrible promise. A bribe really. The kind that you regret immediately. I told her that if she would just stay in her classroom I would come back and have lunch with her in a couple of hours. She thought about it for a moment, and I thought about it for a moment (Are you crazy? Why did you tell her that? Now you're going to have to come back and listen to her carry on like a dying hyena AGAIN when you leave after lunch! Mental note: drop her off and LEAVE! Don't come back until 2:45. The teacher is a professional...she's a brilliant woman who has magical powers to make Hailee endure the day. What have you done???) Once I was through with my mental lecture, I found my 5 year old nodding her head, conceding that this plan (bribe!) would work.
I came back at lunch. Having me there was at least enough comfort for the child to eat 3 or 4 bites of food since most days she'd bring her entire lunch home (the fear was so great that it apparently paralyzed her teeth and they could no longer chew food!) Then the bell rang. Lunch was over. Now I was supposed to kiss her goodbye, get a hug and a sweet smile as she followed her classmates out to the playground. Yeah right! Instead, the tears began again. Oh the tears, the pure Kindergarten terror. It was at this moment that I looked at her teacher hoping she could read the apology written on my face since we both knew I would be leaving her with a basket case for the 2nd time that day! So so sorry!
I smiled and waved as I walked out of the cafeteria hoping my fake good attitude would trick her into some positivity! No such luck! I headed out toward my car and turned the corner of the building just in time to see my sweet Hailee crossing the street holding the teacher's hand. I couldn't see her face, but I could tell by watching her shoulders that she was still crying...HARD! I stood there and watched her, wishing with all my might that she would believe me when I told her it would be alright. Wishing with all my might that she knew I would never purposely put her in harm's way. I stood by the corner of that building, watching my little girl, thinking, It's ok, Hailee. Mommy's right here. You don't see me, but I see you. I would never hurt you. You're safe. I'm right here. Please don't be afraid.
And there it was. The still, small voice I hadn't heard in awhile. The still, small voice that I had been missing in that season of my life filled with lunchboxes and homework and car rides. That still, small voice was calling out to ME! It's ok, Jaci. I AM right here. You don't see me, but I see you. I would never hurt you. You're safe. I'm right here. Please don't be afraid.
I was having a God moment at the most unexpected time. A God moment that brought me to tears. Because in all my effort to be strong for my child, to be the rock that she needed to run to when she was afraid, I wasn't leaning on my Rock. And that day, after weeks and weeks of tears and drama, I desperately needed my Father to wrap me up in His arms and remind me that He was right there and that He could see me. That I was safe...that my babies were safe. The only difference was, He didn't have to drop me off for 8 hours. I could keep my fingers wrapped around His arm and hold on with all my might (and show Hailee what it really looked like to be a monkey!) I didn't have to let go or accept a bribe for lunch. He was with me all the time.
He IS with me all the time. He is with each of my little girls at their great big school. Through each season, through each school year, that is a constant I can hold onto. He's right here, with me, with them, with you. We don't see Him, but He sees us. He would never hurt us. We're safe. We don't have to be afraid. We just have to quiet down and remember to listen for the still, small voice...our Father's voice.
I was reminded this week of how quickly the last year has flown by. It seems like I just took Hailee to her first day of Kindergarten...but that was a year ago. She struggled last year. The adjustment was so hard. My sweet baby girl in a great big public school. She was scared and we dealt with day after day, week after week, of fear. Terrible fear that would bring her to tears at bedtime, dreading the next day. Fear that would bring on immediate tummy aches and panic the moment her precious, hazel eyes opened in the mornings. It broke my mommy heart. So I would find myself bribing, hugging, yelling, worrying, ignoring, praying, comforting...trying anything I could think of to get her through the day, praying the next day would be better.
One particularly bad morning as I pried her fingers off of my arm and unwrapped her ankles from my leg (I had seriously begun to wonder if she was turning into a monkey!) in a pointless attempt to leave her in her classroom, I made a terrible promise. A bribe really. The kind that you regret immediately. I told her that if she would just stay in her classroom I would come back and have lunch with her in a couple of hours. She thought about it for a moment, and I thought about it for a moment (Are you crazy? Why did you tell her that? Now you're going to have to come back and listen to her carry on like a dying hyena AGAIN when you leave after lunch! Mental note: drop her off and LEAVE! Don't come back until 2:45. The teacher is a professional...she's a brilliant woman who has magical powers to make Hailee endure the day. What have you done???) Once I was through with my mental lecture, I found my 5 year old nodding her head, conceding that this plan (bribe!) would work.
I came back at lunch. Having me there was at least enough comfort for the child to eat 3 or 4 bites of food since most days she'd bring her entire lunch home (the fear was so great that it apparently paralyzed her teeth and they could no longer chew food!) Then the bell rang. Lunch was over. Now I was supposed to kiss her goodbye, get a hug and a sweet smile as she followed her classmates out to the playground. Yeah right! Instead, the tears began again. Oh the tears, the pure Kindergarten terror. It was at this moment that I looked at her teacher hoping she could read the apology written on my face since we both knew I would be leaving her with a basket case for the 2nd time that day! So so sorry!
I smiled and waved as I walked out of the cafeteria hoping my fake good attitude would trick her into some positivity! No such luck! I headed out toward my car and turned the corner of the building just in time to see my sweet Hailee crossing the street holding the teacher's hand. I couldn't see her face, but I could tell by watching her shoulders that she was still crying...HARD! I stood there and watched her, wishing with all my might that she would believe me when I told her it would be alright. Wishing with all my might that she knew I would never purposely put her in harm's way. I stood by the corner of that building, watching my little girl, thinking, It's ok, Hailee. Mommy's right here. You don't see me, but I see you. I would never hurt you. You're safe. I'm right here. Please don't be afraid.
And there it was. The still, small voice I hadn't heard in awhile. The still, small voice that I had been missing in that season of my life filled with lunchboxes and homework and car rides. That still, small voice was calling out to ME! It's ok, Jaci. I AM right here. You don't see me, but I see you. I would never hurt you. You're safe. I'm right here. Please don't be afraid.
I was having a God moment at the most unexpected time. A God moment that brought me to tears. Because in all my effort to be strong for my child, to be the rock that she needed to run to when she was afraid, I wasn't leaning on my Rock. And that day, after weeks and weeks of tears and drama, I desperately needed my Father to wrap me up in His arms and remind me that He was right there and that He could see me. That I was safe...that my babies were safe. The only difference was, He didn't have to drop me off for 8 hours. I could keep my fingers wrapped around His arm and hold on with all my might (and show Hailee what it really looked like to be a monkey!) I didn't have to let go or accept a bribe for lunch. He was with me all the time.
He IS with me all the time. He is with each of my little girls at their great big school. Through each season, through each school year, that is a constant I can hold onto. He's right here, with me, with them, with you. We don't see Him, but He sees us. He would never hurt us. We're safe. We don't have to be afraid. We just have to quiet down and remember to listen for the still, small voice...our Father's voice.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
If Today Were My Last...
Someone posed the question today, “what would you do if today was your last day on Earth.” For whatever reason, this question struck me, and I really began to think about it. I would not be so concerned about my to-do list, my grocery shopping or that last load of laundry waiting to be folded. I would want every last second I had to be with my family…the family that, on any given day, can get on my nerves or bring me insane joy!
I would want to take Ethnee somewhere quiet. I would swing on a hammock with her and listen as she talked endlessly about her day…conversations that I may or may not pay attention to on other days. I would hold her in my arms and tell her that I think she’s smart and beautiful and that she’s going to be able to accomplish anything that she sets her mind to. I would make sure she knows how proud I am of her. I would talk to her about how old she wants to be when she gets married and how many children she thinks she’ll have and what her greatest dreams are. Then I would tell her again that she could do ANYTHING she sets her mind to. I would hold her hand and then show her how her fingers look just like mine. I would tell silly jokes that make her laugh, knock-knock jokes that she would continue to tell for months to come. I would remind her that becoming her mommy was one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. I would tell her 1,000 times how much I loved her until I was sure she would never forget.
I would take Hailee and sit with her in front of a mirror. Criss-cross applesauce…with her on my lap. I would point out each tiny thing about her that I think is beautiful. I would tell her how I love the way her eyes sparkle when she’s happy. I would talk about her sweet little nose and her chubby cheeks. I would tell her that I love it when she smiles so big that I can see her gums. I would tell her that I remember when each little freckle appeared on her body, particularly the one in her armpit. I would tell her that her giggle is one of my favorite sounds in the whole world…a sound I could listen to forever and ever. I would tickle-rub her belly and back…and laugh when it makes her eyes roll back and her whole body relax. I would tell her that she was beautiful…one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I would tell her that when she would smile at me as a baby, I would always think of sunshine. Seeing her smile still fills me with warmth and joy. I would tell her that I always wanted her to smile, no matter what. I would tell her 1,000 times how much I loved her until I was sure she would never forget.
I would take Rhylee to a park with a big open field. I would watch her run and play and get filthy dirty. I would watch her explore and show me each little, curious thing. I would push her higher on the swing than ever before just to watch her soar. I would lay in the grass with her and talk about nothing, just to hear how she makes up words. I would kiss her cheeks and nose and tickle her tummy until her giggling was uncontrollable. I would play airplane and spin her around again and again and then hold her in my arms like the baby that she is to me. I would kiss her chin and the part of her jawbone right back by her ear…the spot that makes her laugh. I would bottle that laughter and hold onto it with everything I had. I would tell her that she’s precious. I would tell her that she’s beautiful and that she’s my baby, no matter how many times she reminded me that she was a “bid deal” (big girl). I would tell her that she would always be my baby. I would tell her 1,000 times how much I loved her until I was sure she would never forget.
I would spend my evening with Russ. I would find a big open field out in the country…the kind where you can see all the stars at night. We would lay in the bed of his truck and look up at the stars and have one last conversation about where we would go and what we would do if we had all the money and time in the world. We would talk about our love and hopes and dreams for our girls. I would tell him that I’m proud of him, so very proud. I would tell him that I would choose him again…1,000 times everyday if I had it to do all over again. I would tell him that he makes me happy, no matter how moody I can get. I would tell him to dream big, no matter who tried to hold him back. I would tell him to hold on to the promises that have been spoken over him because I KNOW they will come to pass. I would tell him that he can do anything…he has proven that to me time and time again. I would tell him to love our girls the way a good Texan daddy does…and to use guns if necessary when boys came around. I would tell him 1,000 times how much I loved him until I was sure he would never forget.
That is what I would do if today was my last day on Earth. I thought and thought about this and then realized, why don’t I? None of us are promised tomorrow. The dishes can wait. The laundry will still be there. But I want them to know 1,000 times how much I love them!
Monday, September 26, 2011
Pregnant or Crazy...I Think Both!
I've never been one of those "crazy pregnant women." I've been emotional before, but not crazy like they show in movies, the stereotypical pregnant woman. I've never been the pregnant woman who cries at coffee commercials, screams at her husband because he didn't take the trash out or loses it when someone gets a parking spot first. Honestly, I thought all the crazy homonal breakdowns that pregnant women talk about were kind of an excuse to lose it...they could just blame it on the pregnancy.
Well, it has happened. I have entered the world of stereotypes. I officially consider myself a Crazy Pregnant Woman (C.P.W.)! Luckily the first trimester is coming to an end and I can feel myself beginning to regain control of my emotions...or insane hormones. My husband has started coming home at normal hours again after weeks of hiding at his office, praying that his children would not be tied up in a closet when he got home.
A few weeks ago, I decided that I probably owed him an explanation for my unexplainable and rather dramatic meltdowns. I figured it was only fair that I try to describe what is actually going on in this hormonal brain so that when I bit his head off for no apparent reason he would at least know that in 9 months this craziness would come to an end (hopefully). Little did I know that our evening would present so many perfect opportunities for explanation!
We decided that a night out was in order. Russ planned an evening at the Cheesecake Factory and even arranged for his mother to watch the girls so we wouldn't have the time constraints and expense of a babysitter...gotta LOVE Mee Mee's! As we were getting ready to back out of our driveway, he noticed in the mirror (by the pure grace of God!) that Rhylee has snuck out and was hiding behind the car. He told me where she was and when I opened my car door all I saw were two precious little eyeballs poking out from around the taillight. After chasing her inside and scaring her half to death about the dangers of going behind a car, we tried to resume our date.
As were drove down the street, Russ tried to make smalltalk. After one sentence, it happened...the floodgate opened. It didn't matter that this was the first time in two months that I had actually put on mascara, it was gone, streaming its way down my cheeks with no end in sight. I tried desperately to find anything that could serve as a tissue. After finishing off every stray napkin in the car, I moved on to some random piece of cloth. I'm still not sure what that was, but it served it's purpose as I blubbered the ENTIRE way into Austin. As my uncontrollable episode went on, my husband just stared straight ahead, hands at 10 and 2, frightened that if he opened his mouth, the sobbing may get louder, or worse, I would back over HIM with the car. It's hard to explain, but I physically COULD NOT STOP crying. I tried to explain this to him. He would just nod and keep driving. Poor guy...I knew how crazy I looked, but there was nothing that could be done about it.
We pulled up to The Cheesecake Factory and he offered to let me out at the door. By this time I had gathered myself reasonably enough to be able to speak in clear English to the hostess. Russ went to park the car (no small task in their crazy parking lot) and told me he'd be in in a minute. The waitress came and brought water and a basket of bread while I sat and enjoyed a quiet moment, reminding myself that Rhylee was alive and safe at home and that I should be thankful and enjoy an evening out with my husband. 5 minutes passed and then 10. By the time 15 rolled around, I had finished 2 slices of bread and the C.P.W. was making her appearance again. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to park the car??? I started calling and texting to no avail. 2 more minutes passed and by this point C.P.W. had come up with all kinds of reasons why he had not joined me at the table. About this time, I saw him waving me over from across the restaurant, looking quite annoyed. I joined him (at HIS table) and listened as he explained that the waitress had seated him because she said no one had come in by themselves to be seated. (Umm...did you not see the 6 foot tall woman with a protruding pregnant belly and red-rimmed eyes with no mascara??? Apparently not, but it was pretty hard to miss!) He figured I was in the bathroom composing myself so he went ahead and got a table. He asked if we could please start our evening over. I told him that would be a good idea seeing as I had come up with only 4 reasons that would explain his 17 minute absence:
1. He left me here...what else is there to do with such an emotional wreck?
2. He died in the car somewhere between the front door of the restaurant and the parking space.
3. He was on the phone with a board member from church (sorry, board members, but those conversations usually last a while) in which case I was prepared with a long lecture of why we don't answer the phone on date nights.
4. He was calling his girlfriend to tell her not to call him tonight because he was out with his wife. *Note: for those of you freaking out right about now, this was COMPLETELY C.P.W. thinking this stuff up. There was NO reason for this particular situation other than hormones! So please save your "concerned phone calls" for another time.
He sat across from me wide eyed, in disbelief of all the things my brain could conjure up in such a short period of time. He leaned back and said, "Wow. I just thought you were in the bathroom." Clearly, I needed to do some explaining. I explained to him that there are two people currently living in my brain: Logical Jaci (L.J.) and Crazy Pregnant Jaci (C.P.J.). L.J. is much smaller and quieter right now than C.P.J., but I wanted him to know that L.J. would take over my brain again someday...probably in about 7 more months. He just slowly nodded, unsure of what to say. I told him that throughout the night I would quickly tell him what C.P.J. was thinking so that he could understand why I lost it at any particular comment or action. The next example came very quickly.
We were sitting across from each other holding hands on top of the table. We were finally enjoying our evening, having a pleasant conversation, when the waitress walked up from behind him. He immediately let go of my hand and sat back as she asked us if we wanted more bread or water or something unimportant. We said no and she went on her way. I told him that at that moment, C.P.J. was thinking: "I'm fat, ugly and obviously an embarrassment to be with if he didn't even want the WAITRESS to see him holding my hand." Again, the stunned silence and confused look. "I just thought she had our food," was all he could say
It ended up being a very fun evening as I explained various things C.P.J. was thinking, and he would very gently try bring L.J.back to the surface. By the end of the night we had had several good laughs and a relaxing evening...the whole point!
Things are much better now, as I explained before. C.P.J. only makes her appearances on occasion and can usually be quieted down with something chocolate or mashed potatoes from Bush's...but not together...yet. As for my husband, well, pray for him. There is a pretty good chance that he is getting ready to have his fourth daughter (just based on our track record) and dealing with C.P.J. will look like a walk in the park when they are all teenagers and I'm going through menopause! Oh the blogs that will come out of that! :)
Well, it has happened. I have entered the world of stereotypes. I officially consider myself a Crazy Pregnant Woman (C.P.W.)! Luckily the first trimester is coming to an end and I can feel myself beginning to regain control of my emotions...or insane hormones. My husband has started coming home at normal hours again after weeks of hiding at his office, praying that his children would not be tied up in a closet when he got home.
A few weeks ago, I decided that I probably owed him an explanation for my unexplainable and rather dramatic meltdowns. I figured it was only fair that I try to describe what is actually going on in this hormonal brain so that when I bit his head off for no apparent reason he would at least know that in 9 months this craziness would come to an end (hopefully). Little did I know that our evening would present so many perfect opportunities for explanation!
We decided that a night out was in order. Russ planned an evening at the Cheesecake Factory and even arranged for his mother to watch the girls so we wouldn't have the time constraints and expense of a babysitter...gotta LOVE Mee Mee's! As we were getting ready to back out of our driveway, he noticed in the mirror (by the pure grace of God!) that Rhylee has snuck out and was hiding behind the car. He told me where she was and when I opened my car door all I saw were two precious little eyeballs poking out from around the taillight. After chasing her inside and scaring her half to death about the dangers of going behind a car, we tried to resume our date.
As were drove down the street, Russ tried to make smalltalk. After one sentence, it happened...the floodgate opened. It didn't matter that this was the first time in two months that I had actually put on mascara, it was gone, streaming its way down my cheeks with no end in sight. I tried desperately to find anything that could serve as a tissue. After finishing off every stray napkin in the car, I moved on to some random piece of cloth. I'm still not sure what that was, but it served it's purpose as I blubbered the ENTIRE way into Austin. As my uncontrollable episode went on, my husband just stared straight ahead, hands at 10 and 2, frightened that if he opened his mouth, the sobbing may get louder, or worse, I would back over HIM with the car. It's hard to explain, but I physically COULD NOT STOP crying. I tried to explain this to him. He would just nod and keep driving. Poor guy...I knew how crazy I looked, but there was nothing that could be done about it.
We pulled up to The Cheesecake Factory and he offered to let me out at the door. By this time I had gathered myself reasonably enough to be able to speak in clear English to the hostess. Russ went to park the car (no small task in their crazy parking lot) and told me he'd be in in a minute. The waitress came and brought water and a basket of bread while I sat and enjoyed a quiet moment, reminding myself that Rhylee was alive and safe at home and that I should be thankful and enjoy an evening out with my husband. 5 minutes passed and then 10. By the time 15 rolled around, I had finished 2 slices of bread and the C.P.W. was making her appearance again. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to park the car??? I started calling and texting to no avail. 2 more minutes passed and by this point C.P.W. had come up with all kinds of reasons why he had not joined me at the table. About this time, I saw him waving me over from across the restaurant, looking quite annoyed. I joined him (at HIS table) and listened as he explained that the waitress had seated him because she said no one had come in by themselves to be seated. (Umm...did you not see the 6 foot tall woman with a protruding pregnant belly and red-rimmed eyes with no mascara??? Apparently not, but it was pretty hard to miss!) He figured I was in the bathroom composing myself so he went ahead and got a table. He asked if we could please start our evening over. I told him that would be a good idea seeing as I had come up with only 4 reasons that would explain his 17 minute absence:
1. He left me here...what else is there to do with such an emotional wreck?
2. He died in the car somewhere between the front door of the restaurant and the parking space.
3. He was on the phone with a board member from church (sorry, board members, but those conversations usually last a while) in which case I was prepared with a long lecture of why we don't answer the phone on date nights.
4. He was calling his girlfriend to tell her not to call him tonight because he was out with his wife. *Note: for those of you freaking out right about now, this was COMPLETELY C.P.W. thinking this stuff up. There was NO reason for this particular situation other than hormones! So please save your "concerned phone calls" for another time.
He sat across from me wide eyed, in disbelief of all the things my brain could conjure up in such a short period of time. He leaned back and said, "Wow. I just thought you were in the bathroom." Clearly, I needed to do some explaining. I explained to him that there are two people currently living in my brain: Logical Jaci (L.J.) and Crazy Pregnant Jaci (C.P.J.). L.J. is much smaller and quieter right now than C.P.J., but I wanted him to know that L.J. would take over my brain again someday...probably in about 7 more months. He just slowly nodded, unsure of what to say. I told him that throughout the night I would quickly tell him what C.P.J. was thinking so that he could understand why I lost it at any particular comment or action. The next example came very quickly.
We were sitting across from each other holding hands on top of the table. We were finally enjoying our evening, having a pleasant conversation, when the waitress walked up from behind him. He immediately let go of my hand and sat back as she asked us if we wanted more bread or water or something unimportant. We said no and she went on her way. I told him that at that moment, C.P.J. was thinking: "I'm fat, ugly and obviously an embarrassment to be with if he didn't even want the WAITRESS to see him holding my hand." Again, the stunned silence and confused look. "I just thought she had our food," was all he could say
It ended up being a very fun evening as I explained various things C.P.J. was thinking, and he would very gently try bring L.J.back to the surface. By the end of the night we had had several good laughs and a relaxing evening...the whole point!
Things are much better now, as I explained before. C.P.J. only makes her appearances on occasion and can usually be quieted down with something chocolate or mashed potatoes from Bush's...but not together...yet. As for my husband, well, pray for him. There is a pretty good chance that he is getting ready to have his fourth daughter (just based on our track record) and dealing with C.P.J. will look like a walk in the park when they are all teenagers and I'm going through menopause! Oh the blogs that will come out of that! :)
Friday, July 1, 2011
Life OUT of the Fishbowl
Adam and Eve ate the fruit. Consequence: Leaving the Garden of Eden and forcing all of mankind to be born into sin.
Jonah disobeyed God when he was told to go to Ninevah. Consequence: Being swallowed by a giant fish.
Ethnee and Hailee decided their fish should enjoy life OUT of the fishbowl. Consequence: well, let me tell you the whole story.
Upon arriving home from 4 glorious days of youth camp with our teens from church, we were greeted by 3 precious, smiling little girls full of hugs and kisses for their mommy and daddy whom they had missed so much! Only a couple hours into our joyous return, however, reality came dancing it's way back into our lives. As I was on the phone with our youth pastor (who wasn't able to attend camp because his wife is about to POP with baby #3) Hailee annoyingly interrupted and asked if she and her sisters could "go fishing" in her fish tank. After multiple "NO's!" and an unnecessary explanation about why we can't "play" with our fish, she went sulking upstairs to find something better to do (or so I thought).
Later that evening I was putting Rhylee in the bathtub and encouraging Hailee to join her. Hailee was quite persistent that she didn't want to get in the bathtub...yet. I couldn't understand her need for me to leave the bathroom before she would get in, and then I remembered a very short conversation we had had a bit earlier about why the fish couldn't get in the bathtub either. I looked at her and said, "Hailee, you MAY NOT put your fish in the bathtub with you." The look on her face went from shock (how did my mother figure that out?!?!) to incredible disappointment. I was in the middle of explaining how fish will die if they are put in the bath (it might have been slightly dramatic including something about frying their brains with the hot water, etc.) when she blurted out, "BUT THEY DIDN'T DIE WHEN WE PUT THEM IN THE SINK!" I'm not sure what expression I was making but she knew right away that she had said the wrong thing. Her concern was confirmed when Ethnee walked in the room and said, "HAILEE!!! You weren't supposed to tell Mom about that!" Wow. Blatant disobedience AND lying. I was pretty upset, so I told them that there would be a consequence but that I would have to think about what it was. In the mean time they had all better get in the bathtub. I went into Hailee's room, cleaned up her wet dresser and put two remaining fish (who were swimming in their vacation home, AKA a random plastic toy) back in the fish tank.
I then went downstairs and told Russ about our little mischief-makers. We were in the process of coming up with what we thought might be an appropriate punishment when I decided to go upstairs and wash their hair. We were going to have Family Movie Night (something that is greatly anticipated in this house) and I needed to make sure everyone was squeaky clean before it got too late. I rounded the corner into our bathroom and turned to grab the soap off of the counter when, low and behold, what did I find? A FISH! Swimming in our sink! WHAT!?!? If there had a been a scrolling screen on my forehead displaying what was going through my brain, it would have read something like this:
Those little boogers! Inhale! Walk away. No wait! Is that really a fish in my sink? Exhale. Inhale! Don't spank them while you're mad! Exhale! Don't speak...it freaks them out more when they think their disobedience has made you speechless. Inhale! Get Russ...that will REALLY freak them out! Exhale.
As soon as I called Russ upstairs, the tears began. If Daddy was getting involved, they knew they were in BIG trouble! I still did all the talking, gave the sentencing and got them out of the bath. Russ barely said a word, but just having him there solidified the punishment. If Daddy heard it, Mommy couldn't take it back! My favorite part was that Rhylee didn't understand what was going on, but she was doing her best to muster up a good cry to join her sisters. Once I told her that she wasn't in trouble, the waterworks stopped and she said, "Oh. Oh-Tay." Ethnee and Hailee were a different story! The wailing that ensued as they walked the long hallway back to their rooms reminded me of a movie in which a prisoner is being walked to his execution. The inmate is asked what he wants for his last meal, all the other inmates are saying goodbye. It was a similar scenario in our house.
We explained that there would be three consequences for 3 crimes: disobeying (x 2) and lying. Sentencing included: spankings from daddy, going to bed instead of enjoying Family Movie Night, and no TV or movies the next day. The wailing got louder as the list grew. I then explained that if the fish ever left their tank again, they would be flushed down the toilet and the fish tank would be put away. Hailee was nearly inconsolable at this point. "But MOM! I don't want my fish to go into the ocean! Then they will go in the fishing net and DIE!" Thanks, Nemo! You're making it easier for our children to believe that there is life after the sewer. Awesome!
As for their last meal, they were allowed a snack before their early bedtime. Ethnee's came after she laid in bed and cried her eyes out explaining to me that she would " just die in the middle of the night" if she didn't have something to eat. "I'M GOING TO DIE!!!" Wow...no drama here. Although, I wanted to tell her that we would have to wait and see what happened by morning, I am a slightly more compassionate mother and threw her a granola bar so she didn't "starve!"
So there you have it.
Ethnee and Hailee decided their fish should enjoy life OUT of the fishbowl. Consequence: the end of the world and two children nearly dying of starvation!
The End
Note: at 11:35 pm tonight, Goldie, Dora and Spotty the fish were flushed to rest. RIP fishies...you were a lesson worth learning.
Jonah disobeyed God when he was told to go to Ninevah. Consequence: Being swallowed by a giant fish.
Ethnee and Hailee decided their fish should enjoy life OUT of the fishbowl. Consequence: well, let me tell you the whole story.
Upon arriving home from 4 glorious days of youth camp with our teens from church, we were greeted by 3 precious, smiling little girls full of hugs and kisses for their mommy and daddy whom they had missed so much! Only a couple hours into our joyous return, however, reality came dancing it's way back into our lives. As I was on the phone with our youth pastor (who wasn't able to attend camp because his wife is about to POP with baby #3) Hailee annoyingly interrupted and asked if she and her sisters could "go fishing" in her fish tank. After multiple "NO's!" and an unnecessary explanation about why we can't "play" with our fish, she went sulking upstairs to find something better to do (or so I thought).
Later that evening I was putting Rhylee in the bathtub and encouraging Hailee to join her. Hailee was quite persistent that she didn't want to get in the bathtub...yet. I couldn't understand her need for me to leave the bathroom before she would get in, and then I remembered a very short conversation we had had a bit earlier about why the fish couldn't get in the bathtub either. I looked at her and said, "Hailee, you MAY NOT put your fish in the bathtub with you." The look on her face went from shock (how did my mother figure that out?!?!) to incredible disappointment. I was in the middle of explaining how fish will die if they are put in the bath (it might have been slightly dramatic including something about frying their brains with the hot water, etc.) when she blurted out, "BUT THEY DIDN'T DIE WHEN WE PUT THEM IN THE SINK!" I'm not sure what expression I was making but she knew right away that she had said the wrong thing. Her concern was confirmed when Ethnee walked in the room and said, "HAILEE!!! You weren't supposed to tell Mom about that!" Wow. Blatant disobedience AND lying. I was pretty upset, so I told them that there would be a consequence but that I would have to think about what it was. In the mean time they had all better get in the bathtub. I went into Hailee's room, cleaned up her wet dresser and put two remaining fish (who were swimming in their vacation home, AKA a random plastic toy) back in the fish tank.
I then went downstairs and told Russ about our little mischief-makers. We were in the process of coming up with what we thought might be an appropriate punishment when I decided to go upstairs and wash their hair. We were going to have Family Movie Night (something that is greatly anticipated in this house) and I needed to make sure everyone was squeaky clean before it got too late. I rounded the corner into our bathroom and turned to grab the soap off of the counter when, low and behold, what did I find? A FISH! Swimming in our sink! WHAT!?!? If there had a been a scrolling screen on my forehead displaying what was going through my brain, it would have read something like this:
Those little boogers! Inhale! Walk away. No wait! Is that really a fish in my sink? Exhale. Inhale! Don't spank them while you're mad! Exhale! Don't speak...it freaks them out more when they think their disobedience has made you speechless. Inhale! Get Russ...that will REALLY freak them out! Exhale.
As soon as I called Russ upstairs, the tears began. If Daddy was getting involved, they knew they were in BIG trouble! I still did all the talking, gave the sentencing and got them out of the bath. Russ barely said a word, but just having him there solidified the punishment. If Daddy heard it, Mommy couldn't take it back! My favorite part was that Rhylee didn't understand what was going on, but she was doing her best to muster up a good cry to join her sisters. Once I told her that she wasn't in trouble, the waterworks stopped and she said, "Oh. Oh-Tay." Ethnee and Hailee were a different story! The wailing that ensued as they walked the long hallway back to their rooms reminded me of a movie in which a prisoner is being walked to his execution. The inmate is asked what he wants for his last meal, all the other inmates are saying goodbye. It was a similar scenario in our house.
We explained that there would be three consequences for 3 crimes: disobeying (x 2) and lying. Sentencing included: spankings from daddy, going to bed instead of enjoying Family Movie Night, and no TV or movies the next day. The wailing got louder as the list grew. I then explained that if the fish ever left their tank again, they would be flushed down the toilet and the fish tank would be put away. Hailee was nearly inconsolable at this point. "But MOM! I don't want my fish to go into the ocean! Then they will go in the fishing net and DIE!" Thanks, Nemo! You're making it easier for our children to believe that there is life after the sewer. Awesome!
As for their last meal, they were allowed a snack before their early bedtime. Ethnee's came after she laid in bed and cried her eyes out explaining to me that she would " just die in the middle of the night" if she didn't have something to eat. "I'M GOING TO DIE!!!" Wow...no drama here. Although, I wanted to tell her that we would have to wait and see what happened by morning, I am a slightly more compassionate mother and threw her a granola bar so she didn't "starve!"
So there you have it.
Ethnee and Hailee decided their fish should enjoy life OUT of the fishbowl. Consequence: the end of the world and two children nearly dying of starvation!
The End
Note: at 11:35 pm tonight, Goldie, Dora and Spotty the fish were flushed to rest. RIP fishies...you were a lesson worth learning.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
God Is Good
God is Good. He just is...when He talked about being "I AM," one of the things he could finish that title with is "GOOD. I AM GOOD." When I don't know anything else, I can hold onto the fact that He is good. Always. Without fail...He is good.
2011 hasn't been an easy year. You know, some years, months, weeks, days are just easy. They're good...everyone is healthy and happy, bills are paid, work is successful...things just seem to be working. 2011 hasn't been one of those years. The last 2 months haven't been easy months. This has not been a good week. But God is still good, that never changes. He is the constant even when my season isn't.
This has been one of those seasons that it takes everything in me not to feel defeated...that it takes all of the will power I have to keep the white flag put away so I don't just throw up my hands and say, "that's it...I give up." One step forward, two steps back. Every time I have a small victory, I have a bigger battle arise. Just one of those seasons. But God is still good. Some of the battles have been huge, life-changing, heartbreaking, frustrating. Others have been small and insignificant. During the big battles, God has been SO GOOD. His goodness has been tangible. The peace has been only something He can offer, and it has been easy to profess His goodness because it is so real. But sometimes it's the small battles that make us tired...that make it harder to have victory in the big battles. It's often in the small battles that it's hard to remember that God is good.
This has been a week of small battles. By yesterday, I was just tired, exhausted. Russ took the girls to the park so I could "have some alone time" as Hailee puts it. I sat down in the living room with my Bible, unsure where to even turn. I opened it up and the page automatically turned to Psalm 119. I had certain parts highlighted...I don't even remember when I highlighted them. I looked down and this is what I saw:
"You are good, the source of good; train me in your goodness. My troubles turned out all for the best; they forced me to learn from your textbook. Truth from your mouth means more to me than striking it rich in a gold mine. With your very own hands you formed me; now breathe your wisdom over me so I can understand you. When they see me waiting, expecting your Word, those who fear you will take heart and be glad. I can see now, God, that your decisions are right; your testing has taught me what's true and right. Oh, love me and right now! Hold me tight! Just the way you promised. Now comfort me so I can live, really live; your revelation is the tune I dance to." Psalm 119:68,71-77 (The Message)
I had to laugh. In all the little, everyday battles, all the tedious challenges that had begun to defeat me, I had forgotten the thing that has gotten me through the big battles. God is good. I have been repeating it to myself for the last 24 hours. God is good, God is good, God is good. It helped me today as I did my dance...two steps forward, one step back. It helped me in my small victory this morning only to be followed immediately by a new, bigger battle. It helped me when a lady yelled at me out of her car window this afternoon at the store...it helped me walk away and not say anything even though I wanted to turn around and say a few, choice words. What would Jesus do? I'm convinced that sometimes Jesus just walked away, sometimes I think He remained sinless by just keeping his mouth shut! Granted, He probably didn't think the things I thought, so He still got the sinless title, while I definitely don't come close!
You know sometimes we just need that small reminder that He cares. Maybe it's because I'm a very forgetful person. Regardless, I think He knew I needed a little "hug" this afternoon. So as I pulled into a very busy HEB parking lot (after being yelled at in the previous parking lot), I just said, "Lord, could you please help me find a parking spot close to the front? I need to get balloons and I don't want them to blow away on a long walk back to the car." And this is the terrible part. I actually thought, Why would He help me find a parking spot. He's got bigger things going on than my little need. And then I looked up. The spot right by the door...not in a aisle, but by the curb 15 feet from the door, opened up, just for me. I sat in the car and thought, Thanks, God. I really needed that hug.
It was just a small reminder that He knows....that He cares...that He sees all the battles big and small. It was just a small reminder that HE IS GOOD!
2011 hasn't been an easy year. You know, some years, months, weeks, days are just easy. They're good...everyone is healthy and happy, bills are paid, work is successful...things just seem to be working. 2011 hasn't been one of those years. The last 2 months haven't been easy months. This has not been a good week. But God is still good, that never changes. He is the constant even when my season isn't.
This has been one of those seasons that it takes everything in me not to feel defeated...that it takes all of the will power I have to keep the white flag put away so I don't just throw up my hands and say, "that's it...I give up." One step forward, two steps back. Every time I have a small victory, I have a bigger battle arise. Just one of those seasons. But God is still good. Some of the battles have been huge, life-changing, heartbreaking, frustrating. Others have been small and insignificant. During the big battles, God has been SO GOOD. His goodness has been tangible. The peace has been only something He can offer, and it has been easy to profess His goodness because it is so real. But sometimes it's the small battles that make us tired...that make it harder to have victory in the big battles. It's often in the small battles that it's hard to remember that God is good.
This has been a week of small battles. By yesterday, I was just tired, exhausted. Russ took the girls to the park so I could "have some alone time" as Hailee puts it. I sat down in the living room with my Bible, unsure where to even turn. I opened it up and the page automatically turned to Psalm 119. I had certain parts highlighted...I don't even remember when I highlighted them. I looked down and this is what I saw:
"You are good, the source of good; train me in your goodness. My troubles turned out all for the best; they forced me to learn from your textbook. Truth from your mouth means more to me than striking it rich in a gold mine. With your very own hands you formed me; now breathe your wisdom over me so I can understand you. When they see me waiting, expecting your Word, those who fear you will take heart and be glad. I can see now, God, that your decisions are right; your testing has taught me what's true and right. Oh, love me and right now! Hold me tight! Just the way you promised. Now comfort me so I can live, really live; your revelation is the tune I dance to." Psalm 119:68,71-77 (The Message)
I had to laugh. In all the little, everyday battles, all the tedious challenges that had begun to defeat me, I had forgotten the thing that has gotten me through the big battles. God is good. I have been repeating it to myself for the last 24 hours. God is good, God is good, God is good. It helped me today as I did my dance...two steps forward, one step back. It helped me in my small victory this morning only to be followed immediately by a new, bigger battle. It helped me when a lady yelled at me out of her car window this afternoon at the store...it helped me walk away and not say anything even though I wanted to turn around and say a few, choice words. What would Jesus do? I'm convinced that sometimes Jesus just walked away, sometimes I think He remained sinless by just keeping his mouth shut! Granted, He probably didn't think the things I thought, so He still got the sinless title, while I definitely don't come close!
You know sometimes we just need that small reminder that He cares. Maybe it's because I'm a very forgetful person. Regardless, I think He knew I needed a little "hug" this afternoon. So as I pulled into a very busy HEB parking lot (after being yelled at in the previous parking lot), I just said, "Lord, could you please help me find a parking spot close to the front? I need to get balloons and I don't want them to blow away on a long walk back to the car." And this is the terrible part. I actually thought, Why would He help me find a parking spot. He's got bigger things going on than my little need. And then I looked up. The spot right by the door...not in a aisle, but by the curb 15 feet from the door, opened up, just for me. I sat in the car and thought, Thanks, God. I really needed that hug.
It was just a small reminder that He knows....that He cares...that He sees all the battles big and small. It was just a small reminder that HE IS GOOD!
Friday, May 13, 2011
It's Wise to Call First!
I had a surprise knock on the door this week. Jehovah's witnesses. Two lovely ladies who have been here before and strangely remembered my name, the ages of my kids and the dog's name from the last time they stopped by. They know my husband is a "preacher" but they still want to convert me, I suppose. I have wondered why these two have been more persistent than others that have come over the years. Usually when we tell them that we're ministers for the Assemblies of God, they quickly stop their sermon and bid us adieu. We've even had one tell us that it was "ok that we were pastors"...he was just going to keep right on going until his partner tapped him on the arm and motioned that he could stop. Poor guy...they just don't seem to know how to take people that are just as committed to a belief as they are to theirs. But these ladies...well...like I said, they are so nice...and persistent I was pondering this persistence after they left this week and started to think about what it is they see when they randomly knock on my door in the middle of the day. And it became all too clear why they keep coming back...if I happened upon a house as crazy as mine, I think I may try to come back and "save" that family as well! Upon ringing my doorbell, they are welcomed with the following:
A barking dog...who does he think is at the door? Surely it is an army of hooligans here to kidnap the children or so it would seem by the crazy, wild-eyed carrying on of our 11 pound killer Yorkie!
The wiggling of the doorknob as my two year old does her best to open it on her own.
They can also probably hear me "whisper-yelling" to leave the door alone until I can see who it is. By this time it is pointless to pretend that we aren't here...Rhylee has locked and unlocked the door so many times in 15 seconds that she may qualify for a place in the Olympics. Hailee is running after her screaming to "let Mommy open the door! We don't know who it is!" (She has obviously been lectured enough about the dangers of opening the door to strangers!) So after I realign my face from the not-so-friendly smirk and stop the rather large eye-roll that began after looking through the peep-hole, I open the door and try to have the most "I'm really busy, but may I help you?" look I can muster. At this point, the dog and the baby are my best friends as it looks perfectly understandable why I am not a very gracious host. I am standing on one leg while my other leg holds Rhylee on my side of the doorframe. I now realize that at some point in the morning, she has gotten ahold of markers, the only thing she is now wearing is underwear and she is colored blue and black from head to toe...amazing how you only notice this kind of artwork when guests randomly appear! The dog is in my arms wiggling like crazy...he apparently has determined that the hooligans are actually angels from the dog-treat factory here to deliver $1,000 worth of anything worth licking! Hailee is peering around my body still trying to determine if these are safe strangers or the kind mommy has scared her about. My hair is plopped up on top of my head in a very messy 6 AM-get-Ethnee-out-the-door-before-she-is-late-for-school kind of way. I am in workout clothes, no make-up and the look on my face is now saying, "Talk fast ladies, you have 3.2 seconds to tell me what you want or this craziness is going to get past my legs and you're going to have to take it all home with you!" I am sure this is the message that was coming across because the only thing they said was, "Is this a bad time?" Ha! What was surprising was the calm, cool, collected voice that came out of my mouth (it was a very different voice than the one in my head!) "Well, we were just getting ready to leave for the store" (which was the truth...I just had to clean up the marker-kid and redo my hair). The Jehovah's Witness kindly handed me her paraphernalia, told me something about end-time prophesy and said they would let me go. What? You don't want to see what other kinds of craziness you could find if you actually stepped through door #1? Oh that's right, you can't get through my leg-barricade!
After I shut the door, I began to think about the fact that I'm a pastor's wife...and they know that. I'm supposed to be dressed in my best casual/trendy/conservative clothes to answer the door. My children are supposed to be sitting around a spotless kitchen table having a Bible study while I prepare cookies in the kitchen...that way I could invite them in to share those cookies with the girls while I put on some tea. We could then pursue a hearty debate about the beliefs of Pentecostal Christians vs. Jehovah's Witnesses. None of us would probably convert to the others' beliefs, but we would all know at the end of the day that we had done the best we could.
And then my imaginary bubble popped...
I took Rhylee upstairs, did my best to rub the marker off of her arms and neck but left it on her belly and legs because her clothes would cover most of that. I grabbed a brush and dealt with the mess on top of my head, finished my grocery list, threw on some flip-flops and headed to the store.
What was the point of this whole, ridiculous story, you might ask? Well, it's to remind you that it would be wise to call me before you come over. I would love to be dressed fashionably (but not too fashionably) when I open the door. My hair can be neatly pulled back to show that I've been cleaning like a good housewife (but not too much because I keep a very clean house by habit). We can sit at the kitchen table and have a lively debate, and I'd be happy to make some cookies and put on some tea...but those things would require that I go to the grocery store first. Our children can play and we can have a lovely afternoon.
Ok, now your bubble can pop.
It's wise to call me before you come over because it's just plain courteous. My house will probably be a mess, although I will try my best to pick up a few toys and move the dishes into the sink. I may still be in my workout clothes and my kids may or may not be dressed. I probably won't have homemade cookies and tea but you're welcome to an Oreo and a sippy-cup of milk. That's my real house, my real life. I'd love to share it with you if you can handle the craziness! If you want the "bubble picture" above, you'll need to give me at least a week's notice!
A barking dog...who does he think is at the door? Surely it is an army of hooligans here to kidnap the children or so it would seem by the crazy, wild-eyed carrying on of our 11 pound killer Yorkie!
The wiggling of the doorknob as my two year old does her best to open it on her own.
They can also probably hear me "whisper-yelling" to leave the door alone until I can see who it is. By this time it is pointless to pretend that we aren't here...Rhylee has locked and unlocked the door so many times in 15 seconds that she may qualify for a place in the Olympics. Hailee is running after her screaming to "let Mommy open the door! We don't know who it is!" (She has obviously been lectured enough about the dangers of opening the door to strangers!) So after I realign my face from the not-so-friendly smirk and stop the rather large eye-roll that began after looking through the peep-hole, I open the door and try to have the most "I'm really busy, but may I help you?" look I can muster. At this point, the dog and the baby are my best friends as it looks perfectly understandable why I am not a very gracious host. I am standing on one leg while my other leg holds Rhylee on my side of the doorframe. I now realize that at some point in the morning, she has gotten ahold of markers, the only thing she is now wearing is underwear and she is colored blue and black from head to toe...amazing how you only notice this kind of artwork when guests randomly appear! The dog is in my arms wiggling like crazy...he apparently has determined that the hooligans are actually angels from the dog-treat factory here to deliver $1,000 worth of anything worth licking! Hailee is peering around my body still trying to determine if these are safe strangers or the kind mommy has scared her about. My hair is plopped up on top of my head in a very messy 6 AM-get-Ethnee-out-the-door-before-she-is-late-for-school kind of way. I am in workout clothes, no make-up and the look on my face is now saying, "Talk fast ladies, you have 3.2 seconds to tell me what you want or this craziness is going to get past my legs and you're going to have to take it all home with you!" I am sure this is the message that was coming across because the only thing they said was, "Is this a bad time?" Ha! What was surprising was the calm, cool, collected voice that came out of my mouth (it was a very different voice than the one in my head!) "Well, we were just getting ready to leave for the store" (which was the truth...I just had to clean up the marker-kid and redo my hair). The Jehovah's Witness kindly handed me her paraphernalia, told me something about end-time prophesy and said they would let me go. What? You don't want to see what other kinds of craziness you could find if you actually stepped through door #1? Oh that's right, you can't get through my leg-barricade!
After I shut the door, I began to think about the fact that I'm a pastor's wife...and they know that. I'm supposed to be dressed in my best casual/trendy/conservative clothes to answer the door. My children are supposed to be sitting around a spotless kitchen table having a Bible study while I prepare cookies in the kitchen...that way I could invite them in to share those cookies with the girls while I put on some tea. We could then pursue a hearty debate about the beliefs of Pentecostal Christians vs. Jehovah's Witnesses. None of us would probably convert to the others' beliefs, but we would all know at the end of the day that we had done the best we could.
And then my imaginary bubble popped...
I took Rhylee upstairs, did my best to rub the marker off of her arms and neck but left it on her belly and legs because her clothes would cover most of that. I grabbed a brush and dealt with the mess on top of my head, finished my grocery list, threw on some flip-flops and headed to the store.
What was the point of this whole, ridiculous story, you might ask? Well, it's to remind you that it would be wise to call me before you come over. I would love to be dressed fashionably (but not too fashionably) when I open the door. My hair can be neatly pulled back to show that I've been cleaning like a good housewife (but not too much because I keep a very clean house by habit). We can sit at the kitchen table and have a lively debate, and I'd be happy to make some cookies and put on some tea...but those things would require that I go to the grocery store first. Our children can play and we can have a lovely afternoon.
Ok, now your bubble can pop.
It's wise to call me before you come over because it's just plain courteous. My house will probably be a mess, although I will try my best to pick up a few toys and move the dishes into the sink. I may still be in my workout clothes and my kids may or may not be dressed. I probably won't have homemade cookies and tea but you're welcome to an Oreo and a sippy-cup of milk. That's my real house, my real life. I'd love to share it with you if you can handle the craziness! If you want the "bubble picture" above, you'll need to give me at least a week's notice!
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