bruised but protected

i fell while riding my bike two days ago.

i bloodied my knee.

bruised my wrist and elbow.

but i got back on my bike yesterday.

because you have to get back on.

you can't be afraid.

you cannot live life afraid.

yesterday i was a human punching bag.

assaulted with words.

i've had hurtful words, hateful words hurled at me before.

nothing like what i experienced yesterday.

i've never had my entire body shake the way it did yesterday.

i've never cried more tears.  i've never had my head and eyes hurt that way before from all the crying.

i've never ever hurt more than i hurt yesterday.

but today i'm up.

i'm out of bed and i'm going to live this day.

and love this day.

i won't live my life afraid.

for i have a shield around me.

psalm 3:3

{I'm so glad there's her}

In 1998 Amber and I walked together at graduation.  It would be eight years before I'd see her again.  2006 came and we reconnected.  It was God answering my prayer for a friend.  I needed a friend.  Once we reconnected there was pretty much no separating us after that.  Except when the summer of 2009 came.  And then we were on a break.  A miserable break for a year.  Where I didn't know what to do with myself.  And then 2010 came, thank God, and all was right in our friendship again.  

We all need that friend that even when it goes wrong, it can go right again.

Everyone needs a friend who will wear a prom dress with them in public.

Or even in private.

Like in a dressing room.

Everyone needs a friend who will drive 400 miles round trip with them to see Johnny get Baby out of the corner.

And to measure noses with Rolos.

Everyone needs a friend who will do dishes every time they come to your house.

And who will fight for you on FB when no one else will.

Everyone needs a friend who will cotton ball a truck on a freezing night.

Everyone needs the friend who will drive to see New Kids on the Block with you (at age 28).

And who will ward off the nice man asking if we need help since the hood is up, unaware that I'm attached to a breast pump that's attached to an inverter, that's attached to the battery.  And that's why my hood was up.  Everyone needs a friend who will take a picture of that moment too.

Everyone needs that friend you can double dog dare to answer the Layaway Dept's phone at WalMart.

And then ride bicycles with in WalMart.

Everyone needs the friend who will paint your toenails in the hospital after you've had some cancer and half your colon removed.

And who will buy you a Justin Bieber alarm clock for your birthday.

And everyone needs a friend who prom pose with you.

We all need that friend who will take care of us when we've had too much to drink, who will put you in jammies, put you to bed, and fill in the blanks the next day.  Or three.  And tell you that you were fine.  Just fine.

Everyone needs the friend who will go with them to buy a nursing bra.  And try to hide their shock that it's a size 36E.  Though the shock is not hidden well.

We all need the friend who will pose in Ikea.

And take more pictures in prom dresses at Ross.

And who will double dog dare you to wear your bike helmet for an hour of yoga.

We all need that someone to sit on a barstool with at our favorite bar.

And who will rock duckface with us.

We need a friend who understands acronyms and inside jokes.

DMW.  DCM.  HFMM.  JSYK.  PJAL.  PAWL.  *@*

And who will take even more pics in yet another dressing room with us.

Before having drinks even!

We need the friend who will tell us to shut our stupid face.

Who will hang out poolside or riverside.

And everyone needs a friend who looks cute in a sombrero.

We need a friend who sits beside us in church.

Who buys the baby blanket you were dreaming of.  And that baby at age 5 still loves that blankie.

We all need a friend who is willing to try on leopard print jammies in Target.

We need the friend who makes us laugh so hard we cry and snort.  Which sends us into fits of laughter even more.

We need the friend who will commit misdemeanors with us by stealing those orange cones on the side of the road.

Everyone needs a friend who will send us flowers when we've had a shitty day. and the card reads "!!!!!" and i know that those exclamation marks mean, "hey, it's been a bad day, i can't fix it. and these flowers can't fix it. but i'm thinking of you. and it's going to get better.  you're going to get better."  

We need the friend who loves us when we aren't lovable.

I have that in Amber.  I have all of this in Amber.

Today is her birthday.

And I'm so glad there's her.

I love you, Dorothy.  Here's to 33.

XO, 

Blanche

random words

a french press does not hold enough cups of coffee.

goldfish will eat sea monkies.

starbucks tastes so much better when it's a treat.

kittens will climb your pant leg.

5 yr olds will still pee the bed.

the price of groceries is ridiculous.

live animals are better than any toy.

i miss having carpet in my living room. i'd much rather vacuum than sweep or mop.

i love fb, but i believe it was the death of many of my favorite bloggers.

i have become the girl who takes pictures of her cat.

broken people say broken words.

i love my furniture, even if no one else does.

i miss my bicycle.

this is the inside of my bible.
casino vouchers & a bumper sticker.

family are often the toughest people to love.

family can hurt you like no one else can hurt you.

i'm ready for fall.  i'm ready for the changing leaves and cozy nights.

with the encouragement of a friend, i'm setting a big goal.  like, big.  huge.

i couldn't do life without my friends.

they are the family that choose me.

Haven't we always heard that it is better to give, than to receive?

Last week I was encouraged (yet again) by a post from Ann.  She encouraged each of us to go out that day and do some random act of kindness.

The girls and I had gone to Safeway where my local Starbucks is located.  While I'm standing in line there's a mama with two small children.  One is wiggling, trying to get out of his stroller.  The other, a little girl, who doesn't really wanna obey her mama.  It was getting a little noisy and oh how I felt for this mama.

We can try so hard to get our kids to obey us in public, but ultimately, it's up to them.  This little girl wasn't having it.  She did not want to follow her mama.

They end up behind me in line and the mama, speaking out loud to her kiddos says, "let's see if Mama has enough money for a coffee."  She's counting it out but there's not enough.  She starts to leave the line and leave the store and I call for her to come back.

"I'll buy your coffee.  What is it you order?"

"You'll buy my coffee?  But no one has ever bought me a coffee before."  She tells me what she'd like and I order her Vanilla Frappuccino and she says again how no one has ever done something like this for her before.  And that it had been a bad week (it was only Monday) that it had been a bad day.

We have our bad days, don't we?  And we need something as simple as a coffee to lift us up.

It felt good to do good.

As I leave with my drink I think about how much I enjoyed being able to do that for her.  How I want to do things like that more often.

This is going to sound so ridiculous, but that's okay.  I get Starbucks probably 4-5 times per week.  Often, Josh will too.  It used to just be a Saturday morning tradition.  Then it got outta hand.

I'm spending upwards of $200 per month on a drink that makes me happy for about 30 minutes.  While, spending $4 on one coffee, for one stranger is still making me happy a week and a half later.  I told Josh I want our coffee to go back to being a treat instead of an entitlement.  I want to be more easily able to buy a coffee or a meal for a stranger.  If I'm spending that $200 a month on me, I can't be spending it on others.

Today is day three without Starbucks, and my world has not ended.  In fact, I think it's opened up.

That Backpack

After I wrote about not understanding grace and therefore not being able to accept it, I received an email (or three) from my friend Chelsea.

Chelsea's my in my face friend.  Chelsea's my reads me like a book friend.  The chick can call me out.  She takes some getting used to but I'm so glad she's friends with me.  I need her in my life.

Her email basically said, "who do you think you are not accepting this gift of grace you've been given.  you idiot."

No, really.  It pretty much went like that.

I didn't reply right away.  My first thought was, "I don't think I'm anybody, don't you get it?  That's why I don't feel like I'm deserving of this thing called grace."  But I didn't say that.  I said nothing til the next morning, and even then I had to consider how to reply to her because she's not someone you can say pretty little words to.  She reads through your crap and she'll just call you out on it even more.

(note:  if you don't have a Chelsea in your life, you need one.  now.  Go get her.)

Josh had taken the girls with him to his parents on that Saturday morning when I was going to reply to Chelsea.  Since I didn't have children at home to be concerned about burning the house down or Sharpie-ing the place up, I decided to do both my hair and make up after my shower.

I know!

I'm blow drying my (now short and blonde) hair and I'm considering my words to Chelsea.  She had asked in her email if I had sinned as badly as Paul or David.  Asking whose sins I was comparing mine to.  But that no matter, goodie goodie Christian girl or not, it still wasn't enough.  That's why it's grace.

So I'm blow drying my hair and I'm thinking about Paul's and David's sins and how I've never killed anyone or had anyone killed, but David and I, well we've got some things in common.  And look how his story came out?  He was used by God huge even though he screwed up pretty big time.

Still blow drying my hair and I begin to think about my sins.  I start thinking about them individually when this picture forms in my head of a backpack.  A tattered backpack full of these bricks.  Each labeled with a sin of mine.  Names and places and faces and words and actions.  And this backpack is so, so heavy.  Just seeing this picture in my mind makes me tired of carrying it.

I finish my hair and my make up and I sit down at my laptop to email Chelsea about my sin picture.  I'm typing out this picture of the backpack and I tell her I'm tired.  And then, then I heard a voice that I haven't heard in how many months or years I don't know, but this.  This is what He said to me,

"You weren't ever meant to carry that."

I had to stop my email to Chelsea because I couldn't see the screen anymore.  There were tears like there haven't been tears.

I could hardly breathe.

My backpack.

He's already carried it.

He carried it and He emptied it.

Well if there's nothing in it anymore, why do I insist on lugging it around?

There's no need.  I have no reason to carry around those sin bricks and this shame and this mess of who I was and who I am.  I get stuck in this thought process that if I forgive myself for who I am and what I've been that it's like saying that mess was okay.  I don't want anyone to think I think I was or am okay.  That's why I carry it.  I carry it hunched over.

It's like carrying it with me is telling people that I remember.  I know.  I know what a I screw up I've been and am.  See?  I'm not forgetting, don't you worry.  I'm showing God that I haven't forgotten.  "See, God.  Here I am.  I've got this bag.  And I've got these sins.  And I'm not letting them go because.  Well, because."  But honestly, for so long I haven't talked to God at all about me.  Because how can you talk to Someone when you feel too messed up to talk to them?

I read words by CH Spurgeon just an hour after emailing Chelsea.  These words have been on repeat in my heart this week:

"You can stand before God as if you were Christ, because Christ stood before God as if He were you."

Reread that with me.

"You can stand before God as if you were Christ, because Christ stood before God as if He were you."

Are you picking up what Spurgeon's laying down?

Because I am.  And this is what I'm picking up and I'm freaking out ridiculously excited about it.

It's this.  God sees me as He sees Jesus.  God sees you as He sees Jesus.

God sees us as He sees Jesus.

Sorry, I'm not trying to yell.  But, okay yes I am.  Because this is a big deal.  For both of us.  You and me.  Maybe you've gotten this all along and if so, I'm really happy for you.

But you see, I haven't.  This is my 19th summer I've been a Christian.  And all this time I've never grasped, never understood just how God views me.  Not ever til I read those words by Spurgeon.  Oh my God, how He loves me.  Because Jesus.

Because Jesus.

I'm taking off my backpack full of sin bricks. 

Because He says I was never meant to carry it in the first place.

this week and this heart

for nearly a week now my heart feels it could burst at any moment.

i've had one of my happiest weeks i've ever ever had.  (yesterday was sorta poop, but that was because i was being a butthole)

anyway.  i've enjoyed my days and my kids and wifeliness.  well, most of my wifeliness.  he's not been home much, that husband of mine.  last night he got home at about 8:15 pm and was back to work at 4:45 this morning.

i want to shout it over FB to everyone that my man works as hard as he does.  i want the teenage girls that are my friends or family to see that A REAL MAN WORKS.  he does what he has to do to take care of his family.  pick your man wisely, girls.  for it is forever.  i want the men on my FB who are sloths to feel a pinch, too.

we had talked awhile ago about what he'd do if for some reason he were to lose his job.  i loved what he said, "if i had to work at mcdonald's to take care of my family, that's what i would do.  there's not a job i wouldn't take so i could take care of you guys."  and yet i watch others sit without a job because they feel they're too good for this or that.

irks me.  like IRKS ME.  take care of your own, please, instead of expecting a handout.

total digression.

anyway.  i'm proud of him.

so my heart.  it's been happy.  and i thank you, my friends, who read here and either comment, or email or phone call or text in response to what i write.  it means a lot.  it really does.  because for the most part, when i'm here and i'm typing, it's just trying to get my heart out and to no one in particular.  just to get it out before i suffocate.  and sometimes what i write isn't pretty, but it's always my heart and well,

sometimes that thing isn't pretty.

it can be hard or broken or hard AND broken.  and i think that's what you may have found two posts ago.

hard and broken.

i have this really great life and swear sometimes i'm hell-bent on trying to ruin it.  so when i feel like i'm making a fantastic mess of things i wonder why the heck God would love this.  this me.  and since i can't stand me half the time, okay three quarters of the time, i figure He prolly can't either.  i forget sometimes, okay, it's not that i forget, i just haven't really believed that He created me and can't not love me.

some days, when i am not lost in self pity and wondering why God would give me children when clearly i do not deserve them, i have a teensy glimpse of why He might have just done so. why He would choose me for them.  so i could have a teensy glimpse of how much He loves me.  these girls of mine, my word.  how i don't deserve them but oh how grateful i am for them.  because there's this fierceness.  there's this, no matter what you did, Sugar and Spice, mama is gonna love you with her whole heart.  they could never do anything that would cause me to not love them.

and how much MORE He loves ME.

and YOU.

it's ridiculous.  it's ridiculous how much we are loved.

and how all the shiz we do is covered.

COVERED.

the crap i did yesterday.  the crap i did today.  and you know there will be crap tomorrow.

COVERED.

FORGIVEN.

and so my heart.

it's just been so happy and free.  and it's helped me be productive and loving and kind.

these are all things i'm not when i'm feeling the weight of me and of my ick.  i can't be loving or kind.  and i surely can't do dishes.  or laundry.  but this week has been different.

even Sugar said at the dinner table two nights ago, "Mom was happy today.  It was a good day."  and Josh looked at me and smiled.

and if you know me, you KNOW i wanted to take those words to hurt. and dwell on how i've been such a horrible mama.  instead i chose to take them to heart and be happy.  because she'd seen a difference in me that day and for once it was a good.

there's more.  more to this heart change.  and as i'm able to process it and write it, i will.

it's good.

A 'Splinker' Memory

First, Spice calls sprinklers, "splinkers" and I hope she never ever starts calling them by the correct name.

A few months ago, back in the spring, we had gone to the bank.  Our bank has these huge trees and a really nice lawn.  It was a bit breezy and the sprinklers were on.  I told the girls I'd give them each a dollar if they ran through the sprinklers.

Sugar was all over it.  She ran out into the huge yard, smiling and laughing, and got soaked.

Spice, my tentative child, hung back.  We got in the van and she says, "but I want a dollar."  I told her how she could get one.  I could see her look from me to the sprinklers and back again.

"Do you want me to go through the sprinklers with you?"

She nodded.

So all four of us got out of the van and ran through the sprinklers at the bank.

It was fun and silly and Spice got her dollar for going through the splinkers.

i don't get it, that grace thing.

i've been thinking quite a bit about grace lately.

not so much that i'm in my bible learning about it, but while i'm out changing sprinklers or folding laundry, or while my hands are in hot, soapy water, i'm thinking about grace.

i don't get it.

i certainly don't deserve it.

i'm this huge mess.  more than you realize.

why He chooses to love me, forgive me, accept me...it's beyond me.  like, BEYOND me.  i can't grasp it.  i sin and i sin and i sin so much more.

and there's this thing called grace.

i feel like i don't have room for it in my life.  like i can't understand it, so i can't accept it.

does that make sense?

i don't know why You'd choose to love me, Lord, so sorry, but i can't accept it.

i make the same mistakes over and over AND over again.  why would He forgive my crap?

i don't know.  i need to change more sprinklers, fold more laundry and put my hands in more hot, soapy water and think about it.  think about grace.

The 14th Anniversary

I woke up with my heart beating fast.

Sweaty.

A panicky feeling.

Yesterday was a bad day with the girls.  Ugh.  I just wasn't very present.  I took them to the pool a couple towns over and watched them swim.

I stood there, alone.  Other moms talking to one another.  But I was by myself this day and thinking about what a loner I can be.

At one point Sugar came up and asked me to swim with her.  "I don't have any friends here today, Mom.  Swim with me!"  And I thought about how I didn't have any friends there that day, either.  So I got in and I waded around.  I had just showered and didn't want to get my hair wet, but I did go out with her.  She's feeling awfully brave in the water these days.  Spice, too.

But we came home and I felt yuck and I sat with my Jodi Picoult book.  I warmed up some hot dogs, cut up some carrots, handed them a Capri Sun and called it lunch.  They played Legos and ate their food and I'm not sure I spoke to them for the next couple of hours.

I went to my bed.  I laid there.  The girls came upstairs and put in The Princess Bride.  They settled into their movie and I went out and laid in the pool.

Josh came home and I grabbed dinner and as soon as I had finished eating I sat outside with my book.

Yesterday was the 14th anniversary of my dad drowning.

The day threw me.  Mostly the day before, but yesterday too.  I just end up feeling weird.  Off.  Like I'm not supposed to care or I'm supposed to care more.  That I remember him too much on that day or not enough.

So I was not a good mom yesterday, nor the day before.

And this morning I woke up in a panic that everyday is like yesterday and Monday.  Not all days are.  But many.  These days are just moving so fast and I can't keep up.  I feel like we're doing so much.  I feel like we're doing nothing at all.

Breathe, Sarah.  Breathe.

I'm realizing that I make everyday sound like a bad day.  Maybe I need to start writing about our good days.  Have those memories recorded.  We do have them.  I can be a good mama on occasion.

Just yesterday wasn't that day.

Case of the Mondays for Shiz

Yuck.

That's the only way I can describe this day.

House payment is due.  Other crap is due.  I had an unexpected trip outta town today that threw my normally scheduled day for a loop.

Everyone in the house is sick.

And crabby.

I'm probably the crabbiest.

I've been having dreams about my friends lately.  They leave me feeling ick.  Like there's something wrong.  Trying to fix it hasn't helped.  This is making me crabby.  Edgy.  Worried.

Our pipes are screwed up.  The washing machine is backing up into the tub.  The kitchen sink is not draining.  And my husband works 14 hours a day anymore and is, for some reason, tired when he comes home.  Fancy that.  So I hate to tell him this stuff is happening and that I need it fixed.  And if I thought I could take care of those things without his help, I would.

I can do a whole lot of the guy stuff around here, but when it comes to pipes I leave it to Josh.

For the last hour the kids have been disobedient.  Make that two hours.

On our way home from Yakima they were being naughty and I told them I was going to pull off the next exit and spank them both.  Then I realized I didn't have time for that.  (ain't nobody got time for that)  So I told them that instead of a spanking they were just going to go to bed when we got home and have some quiet time.

A few minutes later Sugar pipes up from the back seat, "can you just spank us instead?"  Kid is SMART.  A spanking is quick, quiet time is not.  So we come home and I say no, just go to bed.  And for the last hour they have been jumping off the top bunk of Sugar's bed into pillows.

There's been nothing quiet about quiet time today and my nerves are gone.  GONE.  It's now that I dream of daycare.  Or year round public school.  OR!  OR!  Boarding school!

Is it too early to mail order bride them?  Surely in some country girls marry at the ages of five and eight, right?

I'm dreaming of a throat that doesn't hurt.  Jeans that fit.  Boobs that are unaffected by PMS.  Obedient children.  Water and sand and fruity drinks and someone to serve them to me.

I also dream of a plumber.

Silly & Ridiculous

I painted this saying on a door in our living room.  

It very much suits this girl of mine.  

This girl, who today, turns eight.

She was three days old when we left the hospital.

And no one believed us that she was smiling that day.

However, she never quit.  She has smiled everyday since that third day of life.

She's an early riser.  A happy, joyful girl.

Sugar is silly.  And strong.  And serious.

This girl of mine is quirky.  Oh so quirky.

She loves to play outside, watch tv, be with her daddy, take long baths, go for trips, 

be with her daddy, go running, play with bugs, go to the park, eat, and did I mention she loves to be with her daddy?

She doesn't like school or green bell peppers.  Nor does she like chocolate chips in her pancakes.

For the last three years she has told me she wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up.  This doesn't surprise me.  She loves animals, is passionate about animals.  Yet strong when it's their time to go.  She's just so matter of fact about everything.

This morning when she woke up she came and snuggled with me and I told her the story about finding out she was coming into my life.  Our lives.

It's not easy to tell your girl of only eight years old how she saved you.  I tried, in ways she'd understand, to explain how much I needed her in that moment eight years and nine months ago.  If not for finding out I was going to be a mama, my life was on course to come crashing around me.

I needed this girl.

I don't deserve her.

God, I don't deserve her.

But I am so thankful.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.  Your mama sure loves you.

Thank you for being all sorts of silly and ridiculous.

there's a lot of fun in puddles

I have always been a huge fan of the rain.

Several years ago my friend Keri and I were driving our cars from Yakima to home on the freeway when there was this crazy downpour.  She pulled off the side of the road, me right behind her.  We got out of our cars and just stood in the downpour.

A couple nights ago the rain just started coming down here.  Josh, the girls, and I went outside in the pouring rain.  We watched the lightning and listened to the thunder and we came in absolutely drenched.

Rain is such a good time.

But the fun doesn't end when the rain stops.

It's just the beginning.

Rain provides puddles.  And puddles are too fun to resist.  There's just no point in trying.

On my bike ride last night I saw that there were a lot of puddles along the pathway.  I prayed they would still be around today so I could take the girls on a walk and play in them.

I asked the girls to put their rain boots on and of course they want to know why, where we going, who's coming with us, are we having snacks?  Can we not just put on boots without 20 questions?  Apparently not.

And so we walked and Sugar saw a puddle and I told her to run through it.

"Really!?"  Her big blue eyes grew even bigger.  She smiled and showed off what teeth she has left.  And off she went.  Little sister was more cautious.  And it took time but toward the end of our walk, she got in on the fun, too.

You didn't think I'd miss out on the fun, did you?  I had my rain boots on too.  They double as my snow boots in the winter.

I loved watching the girls play.  So carefree.  And just loving the mess.  Made this mama heart smile.

Housekeeping....want me fluff your peelow?

You have seen Tommy Boy, right?

Okay, good.  We were almost not friends anymore.

Yesterday after I blogged, I decided to play around with my design and font and such as South Africa.

You have seen the Miss South Carolina video, right?  Such as South Africa will not make sense if you haven't.  Please head over to YouTube, stat.  And watch it.  Poor her.

Anyway, whilst playing around with my blog, I added a little dealio to the sidebar so you can get my posts in your email.  I know I get super annoyed when I got to blogs day in and day out and nothing is new.  This way, you can come here if you'd like, but if you want, you can sign up and you'll get an email with any new blog post I decide to write.

I have a few that come to my email and it's kind of a cool deal.  Anyway, just letting you know it's on the left hand side of your screen.

You're welcome.

she talked me through my crazy. and i feel joy. with just a side of crazy now.

After months and months of wanting to and more importantly needing to, I went back to counseling today.

It's been a long road to get to this point of making the phone call and asking my counselor to meet with me.  I called her a few weeks ago, let it ring once and hung up.  And then I cried.  I've known I need to be there. I've known I need someone to talk to.

I have a husband and two best friends and I talk to each of them about different things but I don't talk to any of them about everything.

I've shut down and I've shut out.

I've internalized a whole lot.  And that's not like me.

The last couple of weeks have been hard.  HARD.  Like, if not for these kids, I wouldn't get out of bed.  Like, I hardly speak to my husband because I've found myself resenting him.  Like, I'm gone from home quite a bit during the day because I feel like I'm failing while I'm here.  Like, the other night I looked at the Tylenol PM bottle and wondered just how many I needed so I could just keep sleeping.

I've been nearing the point of combustion.

So Wednesday I call and I leave a message for my counselor asking if she'll pretty pretty please with sugar on top meet with me.  And she calls back within a couple of hours and I'm expecting to not be seen for a few weeks but no.  No, she has an appointment in two days.  And would that work for me?

Yes, yes it would.  I think I can keep it together a couple more days.

For the most part this has been one of my best weeks in a long time.  My friend Trevor is partly to thank, and a very long overdue conversation with the husband is as well.  I have been feeling healthy.  Restored.

Renewed.

And then BAM!  I'll get hit with some bad news or someone says the wrong thing or I remember something I didn't do or something I did do and I'm thrown for a loop all over again.

This week I have been trying my damnedest to find my joy again.  And the enemy.  Oh he's here to destroy me.

About a month ago my friend Katie suggested buying and reading the devotional Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.  And so I did.  I bought it.  A month ago.  And have I opened it?  Not until a few days ago.  And when I did?!  "Do not let fear dissipate your energy."  "The battle for control of your mind is fierce, and years of worry have made you vulnerable to the enemy."  "You are not alone in this struggle for your mind."

Are you freaking kidding me?

I was kinda dumbfounded.  These were words I needed.  Absolutely needed.

The mind is a battlefield.  Mine is constantly at war.  And I'm tired.  Oh so tired.  For the first time in a long time I prayed for myself.  I asked God to fight for this mind of mine.  To win the battle for me because I'm just so tired of fighting.

I'm so tired.

Monday was a good day.  Then I decided it's high time this fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants family needs to get on a schedule.  A fairly tight schedule.  So I write it out, not once or twice or even three times but four because I have to.  The first one is the rough draft and the second one needs some tweaking and the third one I messed up and needed to cross something off.  The fourth one will probably become five.

Anyway.

So there's this schedule that I started and later Josh and I were talking and he says, "I think we should have a schedule."  And I laughed.  Monday through Thursday we will stick to this schedule the best we can and Friday-Sunday will be much more relaxed.

Back to today.  To the counseling day.

Amber asked yesterday if I was scared.  I wasn't.  Til I pulled up and then the nerves hit.  What was I even there for?  What did I think she was going to solve for me?

I walk in and the place is still the same.  Calm.  Serene.  Welcoming.

And she opens the door and she smiles and I just love her and know it's good I'm here.

She sits in her chair and she has her mostly consumed, watery coffee drink in her hand. "So what brings you here, Sarah?"

I'm still wearing my purse and my legs are crossed and my hands are between my knees and my shoulders are slumped.

I raise my head and I look at her.

"I don't know how to do it.  I just don't know how."

She waits for me to continue.

"I don't know how to be a wife and mama.  At least not a good wife or mama.  I just want to know how.  I want to know what's expected.  What it's supposed to look like.  I want to know if I'm doing anything right because I sure know I'm doing plenty wrong."

It might have all been said in one breath even.  And just getting it out.  Just voicing my concern, my fear, a weight was lifted.

She smiles.

"You always have been too hard on yourself, haven't you, Sarah?"

And I know I have been.  But being too hard on myself doesn't mean it makes me try harder.  It means I feel defeated.  It means that since I know I can't do it all, I do nothing.  And then the guilt.

Oh, the guilt.

And that's when the sleeping pills are enticing.

My too high of expectations get me absolutely nowhere but down.  But I don't know where the middle ground is.  I don't know what this mothering, wifeliness, homemakerness is supposed to look like.  So for 15 years of marriage and eight years of mothering I've muddled through.

I've lived my days waiting for bedtime.

Whether bedtime for the kids or bedtime for me.  I just wanna make it to bedtime.

So I make it to bedtime and oft times I will lie awake and I will think of everything I did wrong in my day.  Or the day before.  The month or year or decade before.  And I will be ill.  And I will cry and cry and there's nothing that can be done to change what I did.  Or, what I didn't do.

That's where I feel I've failed the most.  In what I haven't done as a wife and mama that I should have.  So I ache.  I ache that I can't hold my babies more or read to them more or play with them more or kiss an owie instead of saying, "you're fine, don't cry."  I ache that I didn't interact enough, engage enough.

slumped shoulders.

heavy sigh.

even heavier heart.

"What do you feel is your biggest issue with the girls?"

And I told her that I feel I just don't connect well with them.  I'm terrible at spending play time with them.  I hate to play.  I like to do random, stupid stuff like the other day - Oh, the sprinklers are on at the bank?  Let's pull over and run through them and jump back in the car and race away.

But please, I beg you, children, do not ask me to play make-believe with you.

I talk and she listens.  She talks and I listen.

I tell her about my girls.  Their love languages.  I tell her that for five years (Spice's lifetime) that I have felt Sugar has been in the shadow.  Her sweet, baby sister has been quite demanding since birth.  Heck, since the womb.  And poor Sugar has taken a back burner to attention, affection, all of it.

My heart hurts typing that out.  It hurt earlier saying it aloud.

But sometimes the truth just hurts.

She gives me suggestions, ways to spend time with my girls.  "20 minutes.  Start with 20 minutes of one on one time with each girl.  Just that will put you ahead of most families out there."  Apparently I'm not the only one who has this problem?  Others do too?!

After talking over ways I could spend one on one time with them I felt a little better.  But then choked up.

"I know what to do from here, but how...how do I let go..." and I can feel the ugly cry making its way.
"How do I let go of the guilt from all the years I haven't been doing it right?"

She asks if I've ever heard of the devotional Jesus Calling.  I smile and tell her yes, that I just started it.  Just a couple of days ago in fact.  This book must be great, for Katie to recommend it, for my counselor to recommend it, for me to be reading it right now when God wants me to be.  I don't think it's a coincidence that I just started to read it or that both of them recommended it.

(maybe you should get it, too?)

There's nothing I can do about the past.  It's forgiven already.  I can't go back.  I need to stop holding onto it.  It's time to move forward.  It's time to get intentional.

"Sarah, I'm going to suggest something that I know will probably be difficult for you.  But I think it'd be really good for your family to get on a schedule."

And I just laugh.

Because she has no idea I just decided my family needed one.  That I've written one out.  I tell her why I'm laughing.  I know that God is affirming these choices I've been making in the last week.  And it feels good to finally be doing something right.

This schedule.  Scheduling in family time.  Scheduling in down time (I've wondered if my choosing to have a Quiet Time during the day is selfish but she was pretty adamant that no, it's not, that it is good for all involved to have a quiet time during the day).  And scheduling in some Sarah Refuel Time.  Like my gym time.

I can feel it's nearing the end of my session and I've been so encouraged during my time there, I feel equipped.  I feel ready.  But now I have to leave the office and actually implement these tasks and I can feel myself start to panic.

"There are going to be days where you mess up the schedule.  Where you didn't get time in with the kids.  But there's tomorrow."

sigh of relief.

I left the office and I felt like I could breathe.  I feel joy and I feel hope.  These are wonderful feelings when you've been feeling so dark and lonely and all strangled up inside.  The joy.  The joy feels the best in this moment.  Because like Ann Voskamp says in this post:

"If you don't fight for joy, it's your children who lose."

I'm fighting.  I'm fighting for joy.  For these girls of mine.

For this life of mine.

One acre in bits and pieces

I'm a big picture kinda girl.

I wanna see what it's all gonna look like when it's done.

I want nothing in stages.  I want all of it.

But then I get overwhelmed thinking of what it takes to get everything done.  So I do nothing at all.

Probably one of the biggest things (on a long list) about myself that I don't like.

I'm trying to change this about myself.  It started last year with a cycling trip I took (and never wrote about) and now I'm working on my one acre of property.  It's a pretty big mess.  Weeds.  Dirt.  More weeds.  A few cars.  Ugh.

I know what I want it to look like.  Neat and tidy and welcoming and home.

It'll probably take me years.  I'm slow.  I'm poor.  I'm not very strong.  I don't have the right equipment for the jobs.

But I started a couple of weeks ago with one area.  And I'm going to freaking work that one area until it is done and until I love it.  It may take all summer but I will not get ADD and move onto the next area of my property until this one section is finished - dammit!

(sorry...)

(not sorry...)

I really should wear jeans when using this.

Quite a few years ago we bought these cute little blocks to put down the north side of the house.  We bought like $40 worth and never bought any more.  For about four years they've looked like this.  Sigh.

I took them out (with the help of my sister) and we dug out sod and made a straight line down the house.  I'm going to lay railroad ties as the edge and plant flowers and bushes and ground cover.  And I will NOT move on to another area until this area is done.  It's about 40 feet long and maybe 3-4 feet wide.

My goal is to have this spot done by the end of June.

We'll see...

these have been dark days

It's been nearly a month since I've posted anything.

Sorry?

It has been a dark month, friends.  Oh so dark.

I can't put my finger on it.  What happened.  How today, the darkness has left and sunshine is here.  But it's happened and I'm thankful.

I don't know what's going to come from these fingertips, I had no plan on blogging today.  But when I woke up and felt this unfamiliar sense of happiness I knew I needed to write immediately.  Because what if it doesn't last long?  I want to come back and see these words and know that surely light is at the end of the tunnel.

These last few weeks have been so sad.  I'm not a girl who just cries.  It's not my way of expressing emotion when I'm upset but oh the tears these last few weeks.  I have spent much time in tears.  Much time in bed.  Much time alone in this head of mine.  It's been a lonely time.  So freaking lonely.  It's so strange to have much of my family and friends within 20 miles, yet feel so all alone.  How does that work?  It works that somehow I withdraw.  Somehow I stop putting myself out there.  Inviting myself over, inviting others over.  I don't necessarily spend time in my home though.  Sometimes I try to be gone from here as much as possible.

Being here only reminds me of how I'm failing at keeping up with dishes and laundry and kids and school and the husband.

The day has turned though.  Somehow.

And today the sun shines outside my home and inside my heart.

Today is a good day and I'm going to live it up because I don't know what tomorrow brings for this crazy head of mine.

And she said to me, "move your face!"

Today I was telling a friend a little about my friendship with Amber.

I started to cry.

You know how there are just some people you don't ever wanna be without ever?

That's Amber.

She's my person I don't ever wanna be without.

This picture makes me laugh so hard.  It's perfection.

We were taking pictures of ourselves (it's what we do) and there was no way she was going to allow me to be in more of the picture than she was.

And this picture was born.

I had sent it to one of our friends shortly after we took it.

His reply, "you guys look drunk."

We do.

But we weren't.

We're just a good time like that.

I love her.  I just love her.

The First Monday of the Month

When my mom moved back to town a couple of months back I asked if she would be so inclined to take my children one day a month for the entire day.  And because she loves me so much (but not as much as she loves the other two) she said yes.

Last month I painted while she had the kids.  And it was weird but it was good.  Josh had left for Bend, OR for the night and my house was just me and my paintbrush.

Yesterday I dropped the girls off, went walking with a friend at the park and then headed home.  Unsure of what to do with my day I decided to just get on my bike.  So I rode 17 miles, had some deep fried asparagus and rode back home.  The weather was perfect.  In the upper 70s.  The sunshine and the exercise were making my heart happy.

But once I got home I was just lost as to what to do.  It was only 3 pm!

I showered, painted my fingernails, did some dishes and then headed back to my mom's house.  My youngest was missing me.  It was decided the kids would spend the night with my mom.  And Spice was very excited.  They aren't ever away over night!

Coincidentally Josh headed to Bend, OR yesterday too so there was no one to come home to.  I went walking at the park again, ate at a taco wagon, and was home by 7:30.

I left the front door open, turned Pandora on Colbie Caillat station and blasted it.  It was so loud and so quiet all at the same time.

I realized I was a little bit miserable.

So I started to write.  With like an actual pen and paper!

"What Quiet Time Looks Like"

I wrote out how I view it.  Then I wrote out my reality.  It boiled down to guilt.  Feeling guilty for enjoying time alone that I do nothing.  Or nothing that I've planned.  I had to tell myself that there was NOTHING WRONG with spending some time alone.  I'm with my kids all day, everyday.  One single day without 'em doesn't make me a bad mama.

Josh and I talked about it this morning and he agreed, next month I need to have a plan.  I need to have some cash monies.  And I need to just follow-through on doing something with my day so that I enjoy it and don't feel regret or whatever.

We'll see how it goes.  I'll letcha know next month...

I say blissful a lot but it's not always that way. Not always that way at all.

The other night I was out for a ride on my bike.  I was approaching a family of five who were also on their bicycles.  Mom, Dad, three kids.  Two kids were riding, one on their own, one with the help of dad.  The mother was carrying the bike of the youngest, while walking her own.

She looked frazzled.

As I got closer I said to her, "you always think it's going to be a lot more fun than it is, huh?"

The dad laughed, but the mom looked at me like, "someone gets it."

We've been that family.

I've been that mama.

Me: Hey!  Let's all get our shoes on and put our bikes in the rig, head to the path and have some family bonding.

Family:  can't find socks, or a match set of shoes.  neighbor's dog stole a helmet.  so and so is wearing MY shorts.  husband is trying to keep out of the crossfire by loading bikes.  can you help me buckle, i can't buckle, she just stuck her tongue out at me!

We get to the pathway and we probably look like this happy little family.  And we are.  But you know, looks are so deceiving.  Aren't they?

You whiz by in the car and see a family on the pathway and wish you could look so blissful.  But you don't know the dynamic behind closed doors.

You don't see that the husband just found out a huge part of his job is hanging in the balance and who knows what's going to happen there.  You don't see that he's listing in his head every person who has offered him a job in the last three years and trying to decide who he'd call first.  You don't know that the mama is *thisclose* to locking herself in the bathroom with a bottle of w(h)ine when she gets home because she's pretty sure she's on the fast track to crazy.  She can't keep up with the house and the being the mom and being the wife and being the friend, the teacher, the sister.  You don't see that she feels there's not one area where she's succeeding unless procrastination is an area.  And the children.  Oh the children.  They have their own little bitty issues you aren't seeing from the road.  Those smiling faces aren't always so smiley.

We look at people's outsides and we just assume everyone is so much better off and happier than we are.  Or is this just me?

I assume everyone has their shiz together and I am the only one who feels like a fraud on the pathway.

I posted a picture last Friday night of my family.  Josh was sitting with the girls, he had just put up a tent, we were about to play Skip-Bo and popcorn was being eaten.  I wasn't in the picture picture, but I was there.  I was in the picture as far as being a part of that night.  I posted it and received a text from a friend.  "Nice, happy family."  But said friend knows that my life is not perfect by any means.  And then my uncle commented on the picture saying that Josh was a good papa.  And he is.  He so is.  But instead of accepting that compliment I was like, 'hello, what about my kids' mom?  what about her?'  And we are back to the girl who wants to lock herself up with a bottle of wine.

I very nearly deleted that picture because I don't want people assuming we are always so blissful on a Friday night.  But in that moment we were and I guess I wanted it documented.

This is such a bunch of rambling.  You're shocked, huh?  I don't know what I'm trying to say.  Other than everyone's got their deal.  We're happy for a minute and we can be miserable for a minute.  Don't assume that everyone's lives are always the bliss they post to FB but also, don't make them out to be a fraud because sometimes those moments are what we live for and get us through the muck for the next moment of bliss.

the end.

Oh, right. I have a blog.

It's been weeks since I've been here.  Oopsie.

I had someone say to me recently, rather sarcastically, something about my being distracted and how they hoped whatever I was doing was making me happy.

It's called life.

School and house.  Mothering and wifing.  Maintaining friendships and emails.  Exercise and beer drinking.

I've been busy.

My life is full and it is (mostly) good.  I've definitely put the blog (and apparently certain people, though not on purpose) on the back burner to this thing called living that I'm doing.

Happy Wednesday.