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.

Meaningless Drivel

I almost fell down the stairs today because my thighs are SO sore from my workout on Friday.

I just thought you should know.

More Than Enough

I feel like I'm drowning in ordinary.

Well, maybe drowning is a might too dramatic and a smidge too dark.

I'm blinded by the ordinary?

Stuffed too the gills with the ordinary?

Paralyzed by the ordinary?

What I'm trying to say is that there are big ideas lurking just outside what I can really focus on. Dreams, hopes, compassion for the world... ideas to implement... prayers to be prayed.

These big things keep popping into my mind. I get little glimmers of "real" thoughts. I feel like I start to ponder something of substance... only to find that there is no space in my brain for these wide and unwieldily considerations.

Each nook and cranny is already filled with the laundry, with counting the hours of sleep I am or am not getting, with questions of what to feed my family, with the budget, with everyday-plain-ol'-life.

I want to be a thinker.

I want to have something interesting or insightful to share with the world, or even just with my husband and girlfriends.

I want to have space to hear God ask me to do crazy-exciting things.

But I am deafened by the theme song for Blue's Clues, the buzz of the monitor when I put Joey down for a nap, and the ticking of the clock that says, "Hurry, hurry... do something IMPORTANT!"

But then...

Then, if I can mute all the noise of the world that is telling me that big thoughts are better than baby-thoughts, I remember that I am thinking about wide and unwieldy things.

I'm thinking about how to raise boys who are adventurous and smart and respectful and ready to be amazing husbands and remarkable dads.

I'm thinking about how to be a wife who honors her husband and sends him out to work (or in Andy's case, school) feeling like he's on top of the world and like he has someone cheering him on in all of his ambitions.

And if I remember that the worst that happens if the laundry doesn't get done, is that the laundry isn't done... I have room in my head to know that I have heard God ask me to crazy-exciting, counter-cultural things!

Every day I hear God call me to be gentle when I feel like giving into anger. And I do it! Then I hear Him ask me to do more than was asked of me... and I do it.

I gave up space of my own in pursuit of the adventure God has called my family to for this season.

That is HUGE!

So all of you big ideas. All of you future dreams. All of you thoughts just waiting to be thunk. You can go on waiting.

I'm busy.

I'm doing all the things that matter for today.

Wandering

I had so much to tell you tonight!

I've had three or four posts wandering about in my brain for quite a few days now. I need to write them down so I don't forget to tell you later...

But tonight...

Tonight I got distracted.

I told Andy yesterday that I'm pretty sure about 50% of my brain space is taken up with thoughts about food.

Doesn't that sound like I would have an eating disorder or some major emotionally unhealthy attachment to food?

I don't. I like food, but in a totally normal way.

I think.

I just spend SO much time planning meals, grocery shopping, feeding babies, feeding adults, feeding myself.

Food, food, food.

Additionally, both of my parents have discovered that they have pretty severe food allergies to really common foods (gluten, dairy, eggs, almonds, salmon, on and on). So I find myself eating things and wondering how I could adapt them to suit my folks.

I wonder if I have allergies.

I wonder if Andy has allergies.

I wonder if Jack and Joey have allergies.

Food, food, food.

So, instead of writing to you about really fascinating things, like my most recent failure at a new venture and how I realized that I've never really failed anything before and I don't care for the feeling...

or about my dreams of never having anything in a box in my pantry (making all my granola bars and crackers and cereal, etc. ... Oh wait! That has to do with food again!)...

or about my slightly odd attachment to paint chips from the hardware store (I have some framed)...

Instead of transferring those terribly interesting and revelatory tidbits into clever and witty posts, I wandered through the cyber pages of dozens of cookbooks on Amazon. I've actually spent my last three nights pouring over cookbooks - adding them to my wish list, adding them to my cart, deleting them from my cart, writing them on a list to look for at the library...

What can I say, I'm just fascinated by food. Food is what I do right now, and I want to do it well.

Sooooooo...

Tell me.

What did you have for dinner?

What do you wish you had for dinner?

And what's your favorite cookbook... I'm looking to add to my collection!

Four-Thousand Words

Just To Say I Did It

I had two goals tonight.

One, to dye my hair.

Two, to post something, anything, on this ol' blog.

Well, 9:00 rolled around, and Joey is finally down until sometime in the single-digit morning, and I'm pooped.

That means hair dying is most assuredly out for the evening.

Dying your hair while exhausted (especially when you use the reddest, stainy-est shade that I fancy) is a very silly thing to do. Sort of like singing karaoke when you've had a few too many drinks

Karaoke, by the way,

is on the very top

of my

"Things I'm Terrified Of"

list.

I'm seriously, seriously

afraid of singing in front of people.

It sounds like torture.

Spelling outloud is second on that list.

Or like buying pants a size too small thinking that they will fit in a few weeks... very silly.

For a brief moment I considered just crawling into bed after my shower and calling it a night. But then I decided that if I went to sleep without accomplishing either of my very small goals, I would feel pretty pathetic.

So...

Here I am.

Rambling on.

...

I discovered a few things this afternoon.

1. I'm clumsy.

2. I'm tough.

3. It is probably time for a new pair of gym pants.

This afternoon I was running around Downtown Everett, doing my little work-out thing, and my foot caught my pant leg. Without any warning I was falling quickly toward the pavement. I hit both my knees, my palms and then rolled to my back.

That's when I realized I'm clumsy... and also when I discovered that it might be time to move to a smaller pair of pants (Note that I did not pre-buy smaller pants, that, as we have already discussed, would have been very silly).

I realized I was tough when I jumped right up, smiled to my running partner (yes, I was running with someone who witnessed the whole thing) and continued my workout (which I will tell you included 45 jumps up onto a 20 inch box. I feel like such a stud!).

I now have knees like a seven-year old. I had planned to wear a skirt this weekend while hosting not one, but two parties - one baby shower and one 50th birthday - on the same day, but I may have to reconsider. I'm pretty sure scabby knees are not on the summer's hottest trends list.

...

I have several other stories that have been in my head to tell you this past week, but it is just so tricky to get to the computer with energy and creativity to communicate the things I want to.

I hope you understand. And I hope that changes in the next few months.

Until then, I will leave you with the oddest conversation of the week:

Aunt Gwyneth: Your face looks so thin!

Me, in my head: Oh, I like where this is going!

Aunt Gwyneth: So thin! Have you been throwing up a lot?

Me, in my head: What?

Me, outloud: Throwing up?

Gwyneth: Yes.

Me: Um, no. But I have been working out.

Me, in my head: I guess I better start wearing make-up again.

Please, tell me, when you see that someone's face has thinned out, is your first thought, "Have they been throwing up?"

I would really like to know.