Firsts

As a mother of an infant and a toddler, I bet you open a post titled "Firsts" and expect to see drooly pictures of Joey's first tooth or a catalogue of Jack's first trip to the ER for stitches. While those events are, most likely, not far off, I have much more interesting firsts to present to you.

I am happy to announce that I have discovered the joy of having a favorite sweater. You may wonder how I have made it to near-thirty without the novelty of a favorite item of clothing.

I'm not sure.

A pair of Andy's sweats came close while I was pregnant, though I had to retire them when I moved in with Andy's folks because I had worn holes in places that are completely inappropriate to expose while living with your father-in-law.

So now, I have a sweater. Soft and loose, but not slouchy. The perfect shade of grey to hide baby boogers and rice cereal. Suitable for wearing to bed, to the gym, or to Target. A wonder of a top covering!

I truly don't think you are interested in my apparel

which is why

I have refrained from sharing

my clothing woes

which involve shrinking

out of everything I own.

*I know, I know,

bragging disguised as complaining,

but it IS annoying

when I have no way to replace

the baggy-saggy jeans and sloppy looking tops*

and re-discovering

how messy this phase of babyhood is.

But it provides a natural segue into my other first.

Which I think you will be much more entertained by.

My first crush on an older man!

SQUEE.

I would say that it is also my first celebrity crush, but that wouldn't be true since I had a doozy of a crush on MacGuyver when I was smaller and a second infatuation with Dean Cain as Clark Kent. But other then that, I can honestly say I have been crush-free.

I've never been much of a crusher anyway.

In fact, Andy holds the distinct privilege of wooing a girl who was resolutely single and determined to keep her heart from wistful affections that might never be returned.

That being said, it is with his full permission that I make this "firsts" disclosure.

I confessed last season that I am a little attached to reality shows. The new season of Survivor has aired two episodes.

In those two episodes I have developed a fond affection for Jimmy Johnson.

Here he is looking rugged and Survivorish.

Here he is looking debonare and flashing that melt-me smile.

Ladies, if I were to meet this man tomorrow, I'm pretty sure I would blush uncontrollably, and probably do a lot of giggling.

Oh dear.

When I announced my fluttery feelings toward this former Super Bowl coach to Andy, he laughed. Really, really hard. Almost as hard as when I accidentally swore while watching the Biggest Loser.

Did I already share that story?

It is Andy's favorite.

And yet another example of

the

[melodramatic voice here]

havoc that Reality TV

is wreaking on my inner person.

Obviously he isn't worried about me being slightly smitten with a famous face. In fact, I think he might be a little happy since it gives me a much greater tolerance for watching Sports Center.

This may just be my season for being a football fan!

Caught!

This afternoon Jack was playing in the garage with an empty coffee cup.

Confused as to where he found it I said, "Hey buddy, where did you get that cup?"

He looked at me like "Geez mom, where do you think?"

Then he answered my query and said, "Starbucks."

Oh dear.

I may have kept him from the frenzy of the golden arches, but this child already knows too much about my drive-thru vice.

As a side note,

I thank the Lord

that someone finally

decided that Starbucks

should offer drive-thrus.

The have saved

many a day from a disastrous end.

Has It Really Been So Long?

Forgive me blog for I have sinned.

For it has been nearly TWO MONTHS since my last posting.

...

I always feel better after confessions.

Don't you?

Anyway, I'm back. After a brief frenzy of "how on earth do women mother more than one child at a time?"

Seriously people, look at how boys play - how am I supposed to keep up?

Luckily this well-muscled man is always ready to run interference.

So, after realizing that I won't and can't and don't need to "keep up" I feel like I finally have some solid ground under my feet.

A few weeks ago I was making my apologies to friends who I haven't connected with in ages. As in well before my last blog post. Unacceptable.

As I was offering my genuine regret over missing important months out of beautiful lives I offered the tentative suggestion that I would be ready to engage in life again somewhere around the middle of September.

Why then?

Because the middle of September is fall.

And fall brings me to life.

The fragrances.

The colors.

The textures.

The pace.

Truly, autumn revives me.

I am so glad it is here.

And I'm so glad to be blogging again.

Very Important (Not Really)

A few things you should know about today:

1. I had what was quite possibly the most perfect cupcake on the face of the planet.

It was made fresh this morning by my new friend and delivered to my door just hours after its creation. It was s'mores flavored: a thin graham cracker crust at the bottom of the cupcake wrapper, topped with a layer of bittersweet chocolate, topped with 100% perfect chocolate cake, topped with more chocolate chunks and graham crumbs, topped with homemade marshmallow cream and toasted with a kitchen torch.

I could have eaten myself sick with them. If it hadn't been for the fact that I had to go workout this afternoon, I probably would have.

2. I love my mom.

A lot.

If you haven't met her, you are missing out.

Here she is holding Joey.

Pretty, pretty.

Andy and I went to work out today (45 dead lifts, 60 box jumps and 75 pull-ups, thank you very much). Jack was in a bit of a funk (he is not getting even close to enough sleep and neither am I - a terrible combination) so I dropped Andy off to let him workout and I went to my mom's house. When I got there she cheerfully offered to keep the boys and sent me back to the gym.

It was just what I needed!

Not only is she lovely, and helpful and generous, she is also the ultimate word in just about anything.

Whenever Andy and I have having an "I bet" conversation the winner is always decided by what my mom says. For example, if we have differing opinions of what a word means, we always ask my mom. Or, if we are disagreeing over a bit of trivia, it is always the same, "I'll ask my mom."

The only caveat to this method of deciding who is correct is when it comes to something scientific, such as "What is the term for that whooshing sound you hear when a car drives by?" Then we ask my dad.

It is the Doppler Effect.

There is a lot more to say about my mom, but I have a few more things you should know about today, so I will save her other glorious traits for a later post.

3. I cut off all my hair.

All of it.

There isn't a piece on my head that is more than two inches long.

And it is fabulous.

It makes me feel brave.

This is actually the second time in four days I have been to the salon. For weeks I have been eying a very short, punky style. When I went in to get it cut my hairstylist (who I like very much) talked me out of it. I went with what she said and came home with a really toned-down short-ish style.

Andy gave me a firm (by firm I mean loving and insightful) talking to that went something like this:

"Why didn't you get the cut you wanted?"

"Because she said she didn't want to do it."

"But it was what you wanted, you have been thinking about it for forever. That's why girls never get what they want - they are too afraid to say what they want!"

"I guess I just assumed she knew better."

"She doesn't."

He has a pretty good point, and made think about why I do a lot of things that I don't want to do... I always think someone else knows better. I wonder why? So, spurred on by my wise man, I called and asked if I could have it fixed, and they did, at no charge. I am much happier, and have just the style I wanted!

4. I have a ton of emails to answer and useful computer things that I should be doing, but I don't want to .

I only get to the computer after the boys are in bed and by that time all I want to do is read a few blogs and tell you important things. There is just never enough time, or energy, or brainspace. I am trying to figure out how to be okay with that.

5. Today probably ranks on my top ten list of bad parenting days.

I wavered somewhere between impatient and snappy, and total pushover. Not a bit like the mom I wish to be. Good thing there is always tomorrow.

6. My minutes of computer time are done. I feel guilty for everything that I didn't get to, satisfied with actually posting something, wistful for more time at later point in my life, and considering taking a bath, something I haven't done for several years (minus sitting in a few inches of water with my wee babes).

7. I really want another cupcake.

Where's The Sugar?

I love Jesus.

I love his church.

I love the church despite the fact that it is made up of humans.

And a lot of times humans get things wrong.

Especially large groups of humans all milling about together and trying to humanize holy things.

Joy is holy.

Suffering is holy.

Rest is holy.

Hard work is holy.

...

Somehow, although my mind knows that Jesus invited his disciples into a holy -and HARD- life, my emotions have absorbed the Christian-group-think-candy-coated idea that Jesus makes everything better.

Recently my candy coating seems to have melted in my hand.

Instead of a safe, colorful, shiny and sweet capsule for the melty, chocolaty, palatable gospel, I have a sticky mess.

I'm stained.

Crunched.

Not very pretty.

Not neat and tidy.

The problem is, I'm right where I know I should be.

I am truly confident that I have been following Jesus to the very best of my ability. I don't feel like I'm being punished or paying the price of folly. I feel like I have been obedient and what I have received in return turns out to not be a pat on the back and a full bank account, but rather a forecast of difficult situations stretching ahead of me for a long way.

A small part of me, the part that wants to fit into the acceptable mold of happy churchgoer, is tempted to be disillusioned. Is tempted to feel small, because after all, what kind of press is it giving God if I say I'm following him and my life looks pretty lame right now?

But a bigger part of me feels... I don't even know what yet. I feel like my eyes have been opened. Like I've just accepted a challenge to duel. To fight against the woe-is-mes and the preconceived notions of sugary sweet salvation.

To stand up and say that Jesus is real and loving and life-giving in the midst of struggle. In the midst of frustration. In the midst of mourning. In the midst of dragging my feet and feeling reluctant to face the day because it is likely going to be REALLY HARD.

Jesus is bigger than hard.

Jesus is bigger than disillusioned.

So here I go. Into another day of "this is not what I imagined." It may not be what I dreamed of for my life, but when I said, "Here I am Lord" I meant it. I'll say it again.

Here I am.

I've counted the cost.

Where you lead, I will follow.

Let's go.

Air

Having a blog is scary. It means that on days when you feel - whatever the feeling, good or bad - that there is always the temptation to share. And sometimes those feelings aren't ready to be offered to the world yet.

So, silence.

...

Do you ever feel like all the wonderful parts of you are suffocating?

...

If you are waiting for permission to let the good and lovely and against-the-grain parts of you grow? I extend it to you now.

Go, be unusual.

Be bright.

Be creative.

Feel.

Write.

Paint.

Eat.

Do things in a way that makes sense to you and do it without explaining your reasons to anyone.

You are valuable.

Your talents are real.

There are gifts inside of you, just waiting to get out.

I mean this truly.

Permission has been given.

Begin living like you want to, and not like you think other people want you to.

Start a trend of bravery.

Begin a revolution.

Set aside the "I think I shoulds" and dive head first into the "I thrive when I..."

Do you know where you thrive? If you don't, discover that! If you do, live it!

Please do this.

Don't let the world miss out on you because you are trying to be someone else.

Revive the hope that you are valuable and unique and needed in this world.

Hope.

Hold tight to the promise that there is not only a plan for your life, but that your life is part of the bigger plan.

You are not insignificant.

You are lovely.

YOU are lovely.

Tower of Lebanon

I have a big nose.

We all know this.

If you have been silently gawking over the size of my sniffer, let me just make you a little more comfortable by assuring you that, yes, I am aware of the larger protrusion smack dab in the middle of my face.

Andy calls it the Tower of Lebanon. It is a reference from Song of Solomon (do you call it Song of Solomon or Song of Songs? Just wondering) where the Lover is waxing poetic about his Beloved's physical beauty. Andy does it to tease me, but I figure if the wisest king in all of history had a thing for large noses, then I can be at peace with mine.

And I was.

Until today.

Until it betrayed me.

In Target of all places!

My safe and happy place.

The sanctuary of new moms.

It is, truly, a destination for the parents-of-two-and-under crowd. I must have seen a dozen women with infant carriers in their carts today.

I told my mother-in-law

that meaningless trips to the store,

to spend just $3,

are a life saver.

Because it only costs me three dollars,

but it can take up to an hour,

if I really draw it out.

That is an hour that

Jack is contained and entertained

and usually Joey is asleep

(the magic of motion people!).

Heaven.

But I digress.

Back to my nose.

Do you ever have days where you just feel in a dither? You are clumsy and stutter and always feel like your hair is in your face and you keep twitching to try and get it out of your eyes? It was that kind of afternoon for me.

I had taken Jack to Target to pass the time and were checking out. I couldn't find my card at first, and was fumbling through my wallet. Receipts were falling out, my hair was in my face, I was spastically flinging my head to try and make my bangs get out of the way, and I kept forgetting that I was around adults and was using my "mommy" voice to talk to the checker and was nervous laughing and getting almost hysterical when the betrayal happened.

My nose...

dripped.

Not like it started to run and I had to sniff.

It out of the blue, just dripped.

One giant droplet from my oversized nostril, onto the floor.

The woman in line behind me actually gasped.

Well, the woman was actually my sister. And what she really said was, "OH!"

But still, a drop big enough to be perceived a full cart length away? Imagine the view the checker got?!

After more fumbling (what do you even say at that point?) I gratefully left the store. Lizzie and I didn't discuss it then, but later, when I texted her she said, "That was amazing! I don't think I have seen that happen to any one except grandma before!"

Great. I used to have my nose associated with a biblical beauty. Now it is just a drippy-old-lady feature.

Not exactly what I was going for.

I hope it was a one-time offense because I'm pretty sure I can't handle it if this becomes a regular occurrence.