Today we're celebrating my stepdad's birthday.
He and my mom have been married for just over two years, but since they've lived in Vegas up until this summer, this is the first birthday where I get to be with him.
My mom recently had neck surgery so I offered to have Bill's birthday party at my house and offered to make dinner. My mom took me up on it.
Yesterday I prepared the meal so that today I could just focus on family once they show up. Said family includes a step brother and sister I've never met. (Crossin' mah fingers they like me!) I was having so much fun making the meal, knowing it was for Bill for his birthday and that his kids would be coming and he hasn't seen them in awhile. Just all over happiness of family coming together. I don't know how to explain it, I was just feeling so blessed to be able to do this for him.
While cleaning up I was suddenly very emotional. I was pretty sad pants.
I was remembering the last birthday my dad had. His 40th. I was 18, newly married, and decided that this would be the year I'd be a grown up and make a cake and celebrate with him his birthday - for the first time.
I built a cake. I had thought I remembered him saying German chocolate was his favorite (ew!) so that's what I made. I bought him a card (no gift because I had no clue what to get the man), then headed a couple towns over to give him the cake. While on my way there I panicked. What if the cake was gross? What if that wasn't his favorite cake after all? What if I messed up?
So I opened the car door and threw it out alongside the road.
Yes. I did.
I'll forever regret that I did that.
(I wish I could go back and hug 18 year old insecure Sarah and tell her she did a great job on that cake and her daddy would love it no matter what.)
I haven't had a dad in so many years and Bill is absolutely wonderful to me, I'm feeling honored to make his birthday dinner and celebrate him tonight with his family.
And I'm promising not to throw dinner out alongside the road before they get here.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Friday, November 22, 2013
Write that Down
I often post to FB or Twitter the silly things my girls say, but forget to put them down in some sort of journal.
A couple of things they've said recently have cracked me up, so I want to share them here.
Last week the girls and I spent a long afternoon grocery shopping. From store to store to store. On the way home, from the backseat, Spice says, "Mama, I found a penny in my bottom. No wonder it's hurt all day."
I cracked up.
A penny. In her bottom.
Why, child? Why was there a penny in your bottom?
The kid kills me. Always.
Recently, on another trip in the car, we were talking to the girls about patience. Josh asked Spice if she knew what patience was.
"Yes. It's when you have to wait for the food."
Because with Spice, everything is about the food. Everything.
She's allergic to many foods. Many tasty foods. And apparently the child doesn't want to give up her flour tortillas because when I go to change her sheets I find partially eaten flour tortillas underneath her pillow.
Two days ago I was going to take a shower. I went in the bathroom and locked the door. I've only just recently started locking the bathroom door. Because that 7 minutes I get in the shower is the only time I'm by myself during the day. And before I started locking the door, I didn't have those seven minutes to myself. I would have one child or another, sometimes both, sitting on the toilet lid, staring at me, talking to me, asking me questions, "what are we going to do today?" or "do you know where such and such stupid toy that why would i know the answer to this question is?" It's either incessant questions or it's tattling or it's whatever. But I have learned that if I don't lock the bathroom door, there is no seven minutes of peace and quiet.
So, back to the two days ago I went to take a shower...
I lock the door. I shower. I unlock the door and Sugar comes in.
"You locked the door while you were in the shower so I had to go outside to mark my territory."
And then she turned around and walked out and I just stood there in my towel and laughed.
That kid.
I think she's part animal or boy or something. But zero parts a lady.
They are funny little beings, these people I'm raising.
A couple of things they've said recently have cracked me up, so I want to share them here.
Last week the girls and I spent a long afternoon grocery shopping. From store to store to store. On the way home, from the backseat, Spice says, "Mama, I found a penny in my bottom. No wonder it's hurt all day."
I cracked up.
A penny. In her bottom.
Why, child? Why was there a penny in your bottom?
The kid kills me. Always.
Recently, on another trip in the car, we were talking to the girls about patience. Josh asked Spice if she knew what patience was.
"Yes. It's when you have to wait for the food."
Because with Spice, everything is about the food. Everything.
She's allergic to many foods. Many tasty foods. And apparently the child doesn't want to give up her flour tortillas because when I go to change her sheets I find partially eaten flour tortillas underneath her pillow.
Two days ago I was going to take a shower. I went in the bathroom and locked the door. I've only just recently started locking the bathroom door. Because that 7 minutes I get in the shower is the only time I'm by myself during the day. And before I started locking the door, I didn't have those seven minutes to myself. I would have one child or another, sometimes both, sitting on the toilet lid, staring at me, talking to me, asking me questions, "what are we going to do today?" or "do you know where such and such stupid toy that why would i know the answer to this question is?" It's either incessant questions or it's tattling or it's whatever. But I have learned that if I don't lock the bathroom door, there is no seven minutes of peace and quiet.
So, back to the two days ago I went to take a shower...
I lock the door. I shower. I unlock the door and Sugar comes in.
"You locked the door while you were in the shower so I had to go outside to mark my territory."
And then she turned around and walked out and I just stood there in my towel and laughed.
That kid.
I think she's part animal or boy or something. But zero parts a lady.
They are funny little beings, these people I'm raising.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
the post about my bike and my goal i never reached
the doctor who performed the three surgeries i've had asked me a couple of months back if i'd like to ride STP.
Seattle to Portland. 200 miles over two days.
totally doable.
he then asked if i'd consider being one of the ridiculous ones and do the ride in one day.
apparently some idiots do that.
i paid him $200 to ask me that question.
okay, actually i was having some pain along my 6 year old incision that had persisted 12 days and i was growing concerned. so i made an appointment. i was there approximately 20 minutes, 5 of which were spent him telling me i'm fine, the other 15 talking bicycles.
i told him i'd think about it and let him know.
i get out to the car and first thing i do is text Jessica. how do you set a goal and what if you set a goal but cannot reach it?
THEN WHAT!?
and she told me i needed something scary and i needed to sign up and don't we all need that friend who says, "do the scary thing"?
yes. we do.
so glad to have her.
i talked to Josh. and then a few days later i walked back into his office and asked the office girl to please write a note to the fine doctor letting him know i would begin training.
it's been two months. there's been no training. a website i've found shows training to start in February. and the miles in a week are so completely doable. starting with just three rides and 60 miles a week. that's really not that many.
however, it's just not possible at this time in my life.
i don't know what's happened but life has changed and so have i and i don't seem to have the time to get out on the bike. the days are shorter and by the time Josh gets home from work there's no daylight. i've ridden in the dark before. twice. once i was hit by a car, and the other time a car did not see me and i had to slam on my brakes, didn't clip out in time, and fell.
i cannot safely ride in the dark.
at ages eight and five i cannot leave my children during the day to go ride.
i cannot train or sign up for STP.
today i went to the gym to cancel my membership. the pissy pants side of me considered listing my bike on Craigslist. what's the point of having her if i don't get to ride her? i feel like it's a waste. i feel like my love for the sport, for the bike - is a waste.
admittedly, i'm in a sour mood about the whole thing. i'm not writing this post in a just-no- feeling-this moment the way i often do. it's been days upon days knowing i can't do STP. my sad pants-ness isn't gonna go away any time soon.
Seattle to Portland. 200 miles over two days.
totally doable.
he then asked if i'd consider being one of the ridiculous ones and do the ride in one day.
apparently some idiots do that.
i paid him $200 to ask me that question.
okay, actually i was having some pain along my 6 year old incision that had persisted 12 days and i was growing concerned. so i made an appointment. i was there approximately 20 minutes, 5 of which were spent him telling me i'm fine, the other 15 talking bicycles.
i told him i'd think about it and let him know.
i get out to the car and first thing i do is text Jessica. how do you set a goal and what if you set a goal but cannot reach it?
THEN WHAT!?
and she told me i needed something scary and i needed to sign up and don't we all need that friend who says, "do the scary thing"?
yes. we do.
so glad to have her.
i talked to Josh. and then a few days later i walked back into his office and asked the office girl to please write a note to the fine doctor letting him know i would begin training.
it's been two months. there's been no training. a website i've found shows training to start in February. and the miles in a week are so completely doable. starting with just three rides and 60 miles a week. that's really not that many.
however, it's just not possible at this time in my life.
i don't know what's happened but life has changed and so have i and i don't seem to have the time to get out on the bike. the days are shorter and by the time Josh gets home from work there's no daylight. i've ridden in the dark before. twice. once i was hit by a car, and the other time a car did not see me and i had to slam on my brakes, didn't clip out in time, and fell.
i cannot safely ride in the dark.
at ages eight and five i cannot leave my children during the day to go ride.
i cannot train or sign up for STP.
today i went to the gym to cancel my membership. the pissy pants side of me considered listing my bike on Craigslist. what's the point of having her if i don't get to ride her? i feel like it's a waste. i feel like my love for the sport, for the bike - is a waste.
admittedly, i'm in a sour mood about the whole thing. i'm not writing this post in a just-no- feeling-this moment the way i often do. it's been days upon days knowing i can't do STP. my sad pants-ness isn't gonna go away any time soon.
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
finding what works
This is our fourth year home educating.
Okay, third. We really didn't do much around here for Kindergarten with Sugar. I freaked out about this for much of the public school year. Just sure I was ruining her. I had my veteran homeschool mom friends telling me to chill and to read and to enjoy her. Oh if I could go back to sweet Sugar at age five. I would soak up all that time with her and stop stressing about ruining her.
Five year olds want to be read to and played with. They want to cook with you and help you with chores. They want to snuggle up real close. They want to play in the dirt.
I know because I still have a five year old.
And because I've learned from my mistake with Sugar, I let Spice have a lot of free time doing the fun things a five year old should do. However, she's much more studious than her older sister and actually enjoys sitting at the table for a couple of hours to work on math, reading, etc.
The learning situation in our household has been more calm these last several weeks than ever. I'm sure part of it is that Sugar just realizes school is part of our day whether she wants it to be or not. But I believe the biggest part of what's helped settle down our days is that I'm not trying to shove every subject into her. I believe reading, writing, spelling, punctuation, and grammar are a big deal (not that you could tell from my writing) so that IS something we work on daily and for the most amount of time. Other than that, I kinda just let her tell me what she's interested in learning. We spent about a week and a half learning about sharks. And she just informed me that next she'd like to study dolphins. This kid may not be able to multiply but she can tell you some amazing facts about a multitude of animals and bugs. I love it.
Spice is much more interested in learning to read than Sugar ever was at her age. She's sounding out words, writing, adding and subtracting, etc.
Something that I notice I have a hard time with is keeping up on housework with school or school with housework. If I'm working on something with one of the girls and see that the dishes need to be done, it's hard for me to concentrate on just teaching the girls. I get overwhelmed thinking I need to be doing all of it at once. Or, I found that if I went to throw a load of clothes in the wash, the girls would scramble from the table and all focus would be lost. For all of us.
Last week, for something new, I decided to load up our books and head to the library to do our school day. It was amazing. I didn't have to think about laundry or cooking or dishes. I could just focus on the girls and what we were learning for the day. They don't have the distraction of the animals or toys or our playground outside.
So. We went again Monday and Tuesday. It's been working out fabulously. When we get home I can clean and cook without school related questions.
The girls have really enjoyed it and so have I.
I'm not sure how long we'll do this, but for now I see this lasting awhile.
Okay, third. We really didn't do much around here for Kindergarten with Sugar. I freaked out about this for much of the public school year. Just sure I was ruining her. I had my veteran homeschool mom friends telling me to chill and to read and to enjoy her. Oh if I could go back to sweet Sugar at age five. I would soak up all that time with her and stop stressing about ruining her.
Five year olds want to be read to and played with. They want to cook with you and help you with chores. They want to snuggle up real close. They want to play in the dirt.
I know because I still have a five year old.
And because I've learned from my mistake with Sugar, I let Spice have a lot of free time doing the fun things a five year old should do. However, she's much more studious than her older sister and actually enjoys sitting at the table for a couple of hours to work on math, reading, etc.
The learning situation in our household has been more calm these last several weeks than ever. I'm sure part of it is that Sugar just realizes school is part of our day whether she wants it to be or not. But I believe the biggest part of what's helped settle down our days is that I'm not trying to shove every subject into her. I believe reading, writing, spelling, punctuation, and grammar are a big deal (not that you could tell from my writing) so that IS something we work on daily and for the most amount of time. Other than that, I kinda just let her tell me what she's interested in learning. We spent about a week and a half learning about sharks. And she just informed me that next she'd like to study dolphins. This kid may not be able to multiply but she can tell you some amazing facts about a multitude of animals and bugs. I love it.
Spice is much more interested in learning to read than Sugar ever was at her age. She's sounding out words, writing, adding and subtracting, etc.
Something that I notice I have a hard time with is keeping up on housework with school or school with housework. If I'm working on something with one of the girls and see that the dishes need to be done, it's hard for me to concentrate on just teaching the girls. I get overwhelmed thinking I need to be doing all of it at once. Or, I found that if I went to throw a load of clothes in the wash, the girls would scramble from the table and all focus would be lost. For all of us.
Last week, for something new, I decided to load up our books and head to the library to do our school day. It was amazing. I didn't have to think about laundry or cooking or dishes. I could just focus on the girls and what we were learning for the day. They don't have the distraction of the animals or toys or our playground outside.
So. We went again Monday and Tuesday. It's been working out fabulously. When we get home I can clean and cook without school related questions.
The girls have really enjoyed it and so have I.
I'm not sure how long we'll do this, but for now I see this lasting awhile.
Friday, October 25, 2013
How I'm feeling right this minute. Uncensored.
I started writing this out on paper and then decided to blog these feelings.
Maybe I'm alone in them, and maybe I am not.
I'm equal parts hopeful I am and am not. I'd hate for others to feel this way, I'd hate to think I'm the only one who feels this way.
I feel so inadequate. In every area of my life. Every single one. There's not one area of my life where I feel I'm doing well or succeeding.
Lately I've wondered if staying home with my kids and educating them is the right thing. For so many reasons I wonder if this is the right thing for me. For my girls.
I'm not smart enough.
I'm not disciplined enough.
I'm not structured enough.
I'm impatient and crabby.
I'm not a gifted teacher; I'm horrible when it comes to explaining things.
I don't even know how to teach or what teach. What goes together, when do I teach this, is this relevant, am I teaching this just because the schools do?
I used to work at Pier 1 Imports. I also worked as a barista in a local coffee shop. I was great at selling furniture and I was great at making coffee. I can be good at something. I have been good at something.
But this, this mothering and teaching. I am not good at these things.
And I'm a horrid wife.
I get it. I get why women leave. Because this, this stuff is just too much some days. Many days. Most days. And wouldn't it just be easier to leave? To walk away? Wouldn't the children and the husband be better off?
I'm not leaving. I won't.
And I'm not headed off to work outside the home and have my kids in school.
I am, however, venting this hurt and frustration and panic that's rising. Suffocating. That's how I feel, like I'm suffocating. I feel this claustrophobic craziness.
Okay, I'm going to publish now. And in the middle of the night I'll wake up in a panic and try to delete but it'll already have been read and judged and well, and well...oh well.
Here it is and here is me. Uncensored.
Maybe I'm alone in them, and maybe I am not.
I'm equal parts hopeful I am and am not. I'd hate for others to feel this way, I'd hate to think I'm the only one who feels this way.
I feel so inadequate. In every area of my life. Every single one. There's not one area of my life where I feel I'm doing well or succeeding.
Lately I've wondered if staying home with my kids and educating them is the right thing. For so many reasons I wonder if this is the right thing for me. For my girls.
I'm not smart enough.
I'm not disciplined enough.
I'm not structured enough.
I'm impatient and crabby.
I'm not a gifted teacher; I'm horrible when it comes to explaining things.
I don't even know how to teach or what teach. What goes together, when do I teach this, is this relevant, am I teaching this just because the schools do?
I used to work at Pier 1 Imports. I also worked as a barista in a local coffee shop. I was great at selling furniture and I was great at making coffee. I can be good at something. I have been good at something.
But this, this mothering and teaching. I am not good at these things.
And I'm a horrid wife.
I get it. I get why women leave. Because this, this stuff is just too much some days. Many days. Most days. And wouldn't it just be easier to leave? To walk away? Wouldn't the children and the husband be better off?
I'm not leaving. I won't.
And I'm not headed off to work outside the home and have my kids in school.
I am, however, venting this hurt and frustration and panic that's rising. Suffocating. That's how I feel, like I'm suffocating. I feel this claustrophobic craziness.
Okay, I'm going to publish now. And in the middle of the night I'll wake up in a panic and try to delete but it'll already have been read and judged and well, and well...oh well.
Here it is and here is me. Uncensored.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
crying over a package of Oreos
It was nine years ago today that I bought that Sunday paper, that package of Oreos, and that digital pregnancy test.
Nine years ago since I set the toilet lid down and sat there with that stick in my hand.
Reading:
Pregnant
In my little apartment off Nob Hill. All by myself. Crying happy scared tears.
I'll always be thankful for October 17, 2004.
That pregnancy test, that sweet baby girl - changed me. Saved me.
Nine years ago since I set the toilet lid down and sat there with that stick in my hand.
Reading:
Pregnant
In my little apartment off Nob Hill. All by myself. Crying happy scared tears.
I'll always be thankful for October 17, 2004.
That pregnancy test, that sweet baby girl - changed me. Saved me.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
it's time to start losing weight again.
I've been feeling pretty yuck about myself since about April.
Gaining weight is never good for me and that's exactly what I've done since April.
Ew.
Life kinda took over and I stopped going to the gym. Or I'd hang out with friends instead of utilizing my gym time.
And now I have about 14 lbs to show for my lazy ways.
I'm back to feeling the way I did when I first started my journey to get myself healthy. No, I'm not that 153 lb girl I was, but I feel like it. Nothing fits right, nothing looks right. I wanna stay home so I don't see anyone I know.
Yuck.
So, it's time. It's time to get back to healthy.
Healthy isn't lazy.
I have to remind myself it took me a few months to gain this weight, it's going to take time to get it off, too.
Here goes.
Again.
Gaining weight is never good for me and that's exactly what I've done since April.
Ew.
Life kinda took over and I stopped going to the gym. Or I'd hang out with friends instead of utilizing my gym time.
And now I have about 14 lbs to show for my lazy ways.
I'm back to feeling the way I did when I first started my journey to get myself healthy. No, I'm not that 153 lb girl I was, but I feel like it. Nothing fits right, nothing looks right. I wanna stay home so I don't see anyone I know.
Yuck.
So, it's time. It's time to get back to healthy.
Healthy isn't lazy.
I have to remind myself it took me a few months to gain this weight, it's going to take time to get it off, too.
Here goes.
Again.
Wednesday, October 09, 2013
Wednesday Random, nesting style
today at 9 am I was supposed to have that dr's appt about fixing my Fallopian tubes.
it didn't happen.
instead at 9 am i am cleaning and organizing and purging.
it feels really great.
i'm sick.
like coughing up my lungs sick. like, my head weighs 10 tons sick. i had some Vicodin leftover from when i got my wisdom teeth out last year and they don't really do anything for me as far as pain, but they do make me not care. so i took one a couple days into being sick just so i would not care that i was sick.
is this how druggies are born?
(i don't wanna know)
since i am sick i didn't go to bible study last night, instead i stayed home and organized our school books. i bought a shelf from PW and i was planning to paint it and re-sell it, but realized it had a perfect place in my home and works beautifully for storing our school books.
i used to have just one junk drawer in my house. josh thought one was too much. imagine what he thinks now that one junk drawer somehow turned into three.
today i fixed that and made the three turn into one.
yesterday Sugar came upstairs to wake me and tell me Spice had puked. i went downstairs all sick and sleepy and upon cleaning up the puke I puked too. that was precious. It was one of those times where you don't want to tell the dog to stop cleaning it up. You actually want the dog to clean it up so you don't have to. But the thought of dog eating vomit makes you want to vomit more so you just clean it up yourself.
You're welcome for all that.
Being sick is not my favorite. Organizing sure is though.
The junk drawers in my house were these mini hoarding stations of the weirdest crap. I'm glad I cleaned it instead of someone else seeing it.
Okay, done rambling.
You're welcome for that too.
it didn't happen.
instead at 9 am i am cleaning and organizing and purging.
it feels really great.
i'm sick.
like coughing up my lungs sick. like, my head weighs 10 tons sick. i had some Vicodin leftover from when i got my wisdom teeth out last year and they don't really do anything for me as far as pain, but they do make me not care. so i took one a couple days into being sick just so i would not care that i was sick.
is this how druggies are born?
(i don't wanna know)
since i am sick i didn't go to bible study last night, instead i stayed home and organized our school books. i bought a shelf from PW and i was planning to paint it and re-sell it, but realized it had a perfect place in my home and works beautifully for storing our school books.
i used to have just one junk drawer in my house. josh thought one was too much. imagine what he thinks now that one junk drawer somehow turned into three.
today i fixed that and made the three turn into one.
yesterday Sugar came upstairs to wake me and tell me Spice had puked. i went downstairs all sick and sleepy and upon cleaning up the puke I puked too. that was precious. It was one of those times where you don't want to tell the dog to stop cleaning it up. You actually want the dog to clean it up so you don't have to. But the thought of dog eating vomit makes you want to vomit more so you just clean it up yourself.
You're welcome for all that.
Being sick is not my favorite. Organizing sure is though.
The junk drawers in my house were these mini hoarding stations of the weirdest crap. I'm glad I cleaned it instead of someone else seeing it.
Okay, done rambling.
You're welcome for that too.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Letting Go of a Dream
About three weeks ago I showered, shaved my legs and gussied myself up like I was getting ready for a third date.
Really I was just heading in for my annual exam.
We're going over my chart from the last couple of years and they ever so nicely pointed out that I've gained about 14 lbs since January. They (one girl taking notes, the other my dr.) ask what I'm doing differently and I tell them I'm hitting the gym about once a month instead of three times a week.
And I'm still drinking the same amount of beer.
Apparently that combo leads to 14 lbs of weight gain. Awesome.
Continuing with my chart she asks about my birth control and then says, "Oh, yes. You've had a tubal ligation. My favorite form of birth control."
And I say, "yeah, til you want more babies."
Then she lowers my folder and raises her head and says, "You want more babies?"
And I say, "Yeah, yeah I do." And I went on to tell her about my tubal decision. My worst decision to date. (and lemme tell you, I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life.)
She tells me that once a month a fertility specialist from Seattle comes to their office. That I could meet with him and talk about a reversal. Would I like to do that? Would I like to schedule an appointment?
For a brief moment I let myself play with idea of it. What could it hurt? Couldn't hurt anymore than I already do, right?
So. Yes. Sign me up for that appointment. Let's have more babies!
And my appointment is October 9th at 9 AM. I have all my medical records in my car just waiting to be handed over to this fertility specialist to better inform him of whether or not it's even a possibility.
But the thing is, my insurance won't cover a dime of this. Not one dime. And the consultation alone is $300. The procedure is about $10,000. Who am I to even consider this?! I thought I'd just go ahead with the consultation. Why not just find out it's possible or not possible? But where am I going to just come up with 300 extra dollars?
I'm not. Not at all. Even cutting out the coffee (and I'm doing really well about that, btw) I don't have the money for something like this.
So today I let myself cry awhile. And then I called Jane in Seattle and thanked her for scheduling that appointment for me but that I was going to have to cancel. And she asked why and I told her and she thanked me for calling.
I'm right back where I was that December morning. Feeling this weight of sadness. I had actually started to hope. I started to dream a little of the possibility.
And it hurts to let go of this dream.
Really I was just heading in for my annual exam.
We're going over my chart from the last couple of years and they ever so nicely pointed out that I've gained about 14 lbs since January. They (one girl taking notes, the other my dr.) ask what I'm doing differently and I tell them I'm hitting the gym about once a month instead of three times a week.
And I'm still drinking the same amount of beer.
Apparently that combo leads to 14 lbs of weight gain. Awesome.
Continuing with my chart she asks about my birth control and then says, "Oh, yes. You've had a tubal ligation. My favorite form of birth control."
And I say, "yeah, til you want more babies."
Then she lowers my folder and raises her head and says, "You want more babies?"
And I say, "Yeah, yeah I do." And I went on to tell her about my tubal decision. My worst decision to date. (and lemme tell you, I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life.)
She tells me that once a month a fertility specialist from Seattle comes to their office. That I could meet with him and talk about a reversal. Would I like to do that? Would I like to schedule an appointment?
For a brief moment I let myself play with idea of it. What could it hurt? Couldn't hurt anymore than I already do, right?
So. Yes. Sign me up for that appointment. Let's have more babies!
And my appointment is October 9th at 9 AM. I have all my medical records in my car just waiting to be handed over to this fertility specialist to better inform him of whether or not it's even a possibility.
But the thing is, my insurance won't cover a dime of this. Not one dime. And the consultation alone is $300. The procedure is about $10,000. Who am I to even consider this?! I thought I'd just go ahead with the consultation. Why not just find out it's possible or not possible? But where am I going to just come up with 300 extra dollars?
I'm not. Not at all. Even cutting out the coffee (and I'm doing really well about that, btw) I don't have the money for something like this.
So today I let myself cry awhile. And then I called Jane in Seattle and thanked her for scheduling that appointment for me but that I was going to have to cancel. And she asked why and I told her and she thanked me for calling.
I'm right back where I was that December morning. Feeling this weight of sadness. I had actually started to hope. I started to dream a little of the possibility.
And it hurts to let go of this dream.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
my busy out of my comfort zone week
Whew!
This has been quite the week, friends. Quite the week indeed.
And we still have a coupla days left.
The girls and I started back to school a couple of weeks ago and it's always my favorite when my mother-in-law asks the girls how school is going and if they're reading a lot and Sugar says, "no. No we're not."
Awesome. I'm sure that does her grandma/public school teacher heart a lot of good.
{sigh}
So I guess I'll just go ahead and admit that in the last couple of weeks maybe there hasn't been a ton of reading but yes there has been reading. There's even been writing. And holy cow, some math. School is taking a much different approach this year in our household and so far we've had zero tears and only one bad attitude morning. This is a miracle, folks, and I wish so much I'd started schooling my big girl this way from the get go.
Anyway, with school being back in session comes the flurry of activities.
Co-Op
Soccer
Choir
and for Josh and me, bible study in a small group. {shudder}
So I signed Sugar up for soccer and poor Spice was a little too shy to join this year but she's been a trooper watching her sister and cheering her on. We meet for that twice a week, Tuesday and Wednesday. We've been doing that for a few weeks now and she's really been enjoying herself. Last night I was a proud mama when she knocked a kid over and stole the ball from him. Because last week, someone from the opposing team fell and she stopped what she was doing to make sure that kid was okay. She's way nicer than me.
This week, on Monday, the girls joined Choir. Oh, Lord. Showing up to a church I don't know, filled with people I don't know, with a door God knows where and can I just say that I wanted to throw up. What is my deal? I swear the older I get the worse my anxiety is about crap like this. I try to pretend in front of my girls that I have my shiz together because I do not want them to be anything like me when they are older. But of course I waited til someone else got out of their car to see where they walked up to because from where I parked I could not see the door.
Door found, all was right in my world.
It's this sweet couple who leads Choir and they just donate their time and their talents to these sweet (assuming they're sweet) homeschooled kiddos. The woman handed me a letter that says at some point they'll have each child sing in front of them on their own and all I can think about is what songs my girls know by heart. Hells Bells? Back in Black? The soundtrack to Napoleon Dynamite?
You think I'm kidding.
My girls sat through Choir and we got in the van and they promptly told me, "that was sooo boring, Mom."
"But you LOVE to sing!" I say in my uber convincing voice.
"Uh, yeah. But to the songs on the radio. Not that stuff."
Sigh.
Forever making grandmas proud, my girls.
So that was Monday of our week.
Then comes Tuesday. Tuesday is soccer practice night. And this Tuesday was the first small group bible study night for Josh and me. I did something I've never done before and I dropped my girl off at practice and entrusted her to the care of my friend Katie to take her home with her after practice because our small group started half way through Sugar's practice. I may have been slightly sick to my stomach all day for worry about if the people at small group would like me. And I kept thinking to myself, "do not laugh out loud. do NOT laugh out loud." Because I can laugh. And usually at the most inappropriate times. And loudly. I also reminded myself not to talk. Not to not talk too much, but to just not talk in general.
I mostly succeeded.
I had to talk when it was asked that would the person who brings snack for the night lead in prayer that evening. I nearly stood up with a good loud, "HELL, NO!" but I kept seated. Smiled. And said, "no. I will feed you, yes. But I will never lead in prayer and probably just never pray at all."
Like ever, ever. Amen.
And they didn't kick me out and I had a good time. But I may have laughed and oops, oh well. It wasn't ever at an inappropriate time. Thank God.
What day are we up to? Yes, Wednesday. Yesterday. Man, it feels like that day was so long ago.
Wednesday was just the day before today. (The day I've been oh so scared of for the last couple of weeks) Wednesday was Sugar's game and she did great! Oh! I forgot to tell you about our dog!
We got a dog. A 1.5 yr old black lab who apparently is so obsessed with anything round that she absolutely FREAKS OUT. I took her to soccer yesterday and she went nuts for all the soccer balls! So Josh had to sit with her in the back she was just so excited and wanted to play with all of them and when there are nine (I think) fields going, that's a lot balls to play with.
So, soccer game was good.
Then I helped finish up some shirts with a friend and then we had dinner and yum. It was 8 pm and I'd not really eaten all day, so I needed dinner. I love food. I came home and put the girls to bed and Josh and I went to bed and I laid there trying not to be nervous for today. But that didn't work. I got up around midnight to be sick and then again at 4 to be sick again and decided just to stay up. Seriously a nervous wreck for today.
Today I had to help lead the homeschool co-op. All I had to do was read a story to a bunch of 2-5 yr olds and then lead them in some exercises but oh my word I was such a mess with worry. And now that it's over, I'm like, "really, Sarah? All that sickness and ridiculousness and being short with your girls this morning over what? OVER WHAT?" Because it was fine and it was fun and I really like all those babes and those mamas.
Amber said yay to me for being all 33 and going to small group. And I told her that I felt 13 and like the odd, ugly girl out showing up and she told me odd was part of my charm.
That's me. Oddly charming.
I've done really big (to me) things this week. Big things out of my comfort zone and it's been amazing and good and hard. And the amazing and good didn't outweigh the hard, these things were really hard for me. But how can we grow if we're always in our comfort zone, huh?
I learned this week that I can step out. I can find the front door. I can read a book to some kiddos. I can sit in a room with a bunch of other adults without making too big a fool of myself.
And it's been good.
Really, really good.
This has been quite the week, friends. Quite the week indeed.
And we still have a coupla days left.
The girls and I started back to school a couple of weeks ago and it's always my favorite when my mother-in-law asks the girls how school is going and if they're reading a lot and Sugar says, "no. No we're not."
Awesome. I'm sure that does her grandma/public school teacher heart a lot of good.
{sigh}
So I guess I'll just go ahead and admit that in the last couple of weeks maybe there hasn't been a ton of reading but yes there has been reading. There's even been writing. And holy cow, some math. School is taking a much different approach this year in our household and so far we've had zero tears and only one bad attitude morning. This is a miracle, folks, and I wish so much I'd started schooling my big girl this way from the get go.
Anyway, with school being back in session comes the flurry of activities.
Co-Op
Soccer
Choir
and for Josh and me, bible study in a small group. {shudder}
So I signed Sugar up for soccer and poor Spice was a little too shy to join this year but she's been a trooper watching her sister and cheering her on. We meet for that twice a week, Tuesday and Wednesday. We've been doing that for a few weeks now and she's really been enjoying herself. Last night I was a proud mama when she knocked a kid over and stole the ball from him. Because last week, someone from the opposing team fell and she stopped what she was doing to make sure that kid was okay. She's way nicer than me.
This week, on Monday, the girls joined Choir. Oh, Lord. Showing up to a church I don't know, filled with people I don't know, with a door God knows where and can I just say that I wanted to throw up. What is my deal? I swear the older I get the worse my anxiety is about crap like this. I try to pretend in front of my girls that I have my shiz together because I do not want them to be anything like me when they are older. But of course I waited til someone else got out of their car to see where they walked up to because from where I parked I could not see the door.
Door found, all was right in my world.
It's this sweet couple who leads Choir and they just donate their time and their talents to these sweet (assuming they're sweet) homeschooled kiddos. The woman handed me a letter that says at some point they'll have each child sing in front of them on their own and all I can think about is what songs my girls know by heart. Hells Bells? Back in Black? The soundtrack to Napoleon Dynamite?
You think I'm kidding.
My girls sat through Choir and we got in the van and they promptly told me, "that was sooo boring, Mom."
"But you LOVE to sing!" I say in my uber convincing voice.
"Uh, yeah. But to the songs on the radio. Not that stuff."
Sigh.
Forever making grandmas proud, my girls.
So that was Monday of our week.
Then comes Tuesday. Tuesday is soccer practice night. And this Tuesday was the first small group bible study night for Josh and me. I did something I've never done before and I dropped my girl off at practice and entrusted her to the care of my friend Katie to take her home with her after practice because our small group started half way through Sugar's practice. I may have been slightly sick to my stomach all day for worry about if the people at small group would like me. And I kept thinking to myself, "do not laugh out loud. do NOT laugh out loud." Because I can laugh. And usually at the most inappropriate times. And loudly. I also reminded myself not to talk. Not to not talk too much, but to just not talk in general.
I mostly succeeded.
I had to talk when it was asked that would the person who brings snack for the night lead in prayer that evening. I nearly stood up with a good loud, "HELL, NO!" but I kept seated. Smiled. And said, "no. I will feed you, yes. But I will never lead in prayer and probably just never pray at all."
Like ever, ever. Amen.
And they didn't kick me out and I had a good time. But I may have laughed and oops, oh well. It wasn't ever at an inappropriate time. Thank God.
What day are we up to? Yes, Wednesday. Yesterday. Man, it feels like that day was so long ago.
Wednesday was just the day before today. (The day I've been oh so scared of for the last couple of weeks) Wednesday was Sugar's game and she did great! Oh! I forgot to tell you about our dog!
We got a dog. A 1.5 yr old black lab who apparently is so obsessed with anything round that she absolutely FREAKS OUT. I took her to soccer yesterday and she went nuts for all the soccer balls! So Josh had to sit with her in the back she was just so excited and wanted to play with all of them and when there are nine (I think) fields going, that's a lot balls to play with.
So, soccer game was good.
Then I helped finish up some shirts with a friend and then we had dinner and yum. It was 8 pm and I'd not really eaten all day, so I needed dinner. I love food. I came home and put the girls to bed and Josh and I went to bed and I laid there trying not to be nervous for today. But that didn't work. I got up around midnight to be sick and then again at 4 to be sick again and decided just to stay up. Seriously a nervous wreck for today.
Today I had to help lead the homeschool co-op. All I had to do was read a story to a bunch of 2-5 yr olds and then lead them in some exercises but oh my word I was such a mess with worry. And now that it's over, I'm like, "really, Sarah? All that sickness and ridiculousness and being short with your girls this morning over what? OVER WHAT?" Because it was fine and it was fun and I really like all those babes and those mamas.
Amber said yay to me for being all 33 and going to small group. And I told her that I felt 13 and like the odd, ugly girl out showing up and she told me odd was part of my charm.
That's me. Oddly charming.
I've done really big (to me) things this week. Big things out of my comfort zone and it's been amazing and good and hard. And the amazing and good didn't outweigh the hard, these things were really hard for me. But how can we grow if we're always in our comfort zone, huh?
I learned this week that I can step out. I can find the front door. I can read a book to some kiddos. I can sit in a room with a bunch of other adults without making too big a fool of myself.
And it's been good.
Really, really good.
Monday, September 16, 2013
.JPG)
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
long thread of stitches
Thursday I told you about my hurting heart. Let's talk about it some.
There were these words, these words typed out in black and white. But they felt more like red. They felt like fire. And knives. They burned and they cut deep.
It was like someone lives inside this head of mine, knowing every bad thing I think and feel about myself and they said, "yes, you are right. you are all of these awful, terrible things. plus a few more. and no one likes you. they tolerate you."
I read these words, til there were too many tears to see the words. And then I put them down. Those 2.5 pages, I put them down. And I kept saying, "no. no. no." Then with shaky hands and sobs and snot, I picked them up to continue reading and I hurt so bad. Hurt like I've never hurt.
Do we even realize the power of our words to other humans? Do we even realize?
I sat with those pages all day. Reading them over and over. And my friend said, "are you going to frame them? You have to quit reading them."
I wanted an epidural. An epidural for my heart.
That night I laid in my bed. The words next to me, tear-stained, and folded on my night stand. I wanted them close. And I don't know why. I was scared that in the night Josh would take them. He had told me I needed to burn them. Get rid of them. And be done.
Not yet.
So I laid there with my head on his chest, his hand on my head in this protective way that he does. And I couldn't quit murmuring. There were these song lyrics that kept coming to me and so I would try to sing them, and then prayer and then verses and more lyrics and tears that just fell.
I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up with those pages, those words beside me and in my head but the amazing thing was that they were not in my heart.
I woke up feeling free. Bruised and hurt, but free. I would not own these words. But more importantly, they would not own me.
Thursday was spent just kind of wandering. Wandering about my house and my daily tasks and the girls just knew somehow that Mama needed to not be needed. They took care of themselves, bless their hearts.
And my friends, they took care of me. Bless your hearts.
Thursday morning Beth Moore tweeted, "When someone is cut to pieces, words of compassion and kindness loop together in a long thread of stitches woven by the caring hand of God."
I had friends send texts and emails. One friend, one so sweet friend, knocked on my door, handed me Starbucks, hugged me and then left. There was so much compassion and kindness on Thursday that my heart was overwhelmingly full. I couldn't believe it. I really could not believe it.
A kind word would come through a text and I would think how I didn't deserve it.
Grace.
The coffee and the hug? Seriously, I just don't have words for that act of kindness and compassion.
Grace some more.
We went out of town for this Labor Day weekend and when we got home, in my mailbox, you won't believe this, but five letters.
Five.
Full of love.
And happy.
Instead of reading those 2.5 typed pages of hurt, I'm reading handwritten notes on colorful pages with wonderful handwriting.
Salve.
You have been salve to my wounded heart, friends. I couldn't do these days without you. These hard, hurting days, you make them doable.
My word how I love each one of you for being a long thread of stitches, for being Jesus to me these days.
Thank you. Just, thank you.
There were these words, these words typed out in black and white. But they felt more like red. They felt like fire. And knives. They burned and they cut deep.
It was like someone lives inside this head of mine, knowing every bad thing I think and feel about myself and they said, "yes, you are right. you are all of these awful, terrible things. plus a few more. and no one likes you. they tolerate you."
I read these words, til there were too many tears to see the words. And then I put them down. Those 2.5 pages, I put them down. And I kept saying, "no. no. no." Then with shaky hands and sobs and snot, I picked them up to continue reading and I hurt so bad. Hurt like I've never hurt.
Do we even realize the power of our words to other humans? Do we even realize?
I sat with those pages all day. Reading them over and over. And my friend said, "are you going to frame them? You have to quit reading them."
I wanted an epidural. An epidural for my heart.
That night I laid in my bed. The words next to me, tear-stained, and folded on my night stand. I wanted them close. And I don't know why. I was scared that in the night Josh would take them. He had told me I needed to burn them. Get rid of them. And be done.
Not yet.
So I laid there with my head on his chest, his hand on my head in this protective way that he does. And I couldn't quit murmuring. There were these song lyrics that kept coming to me and so I would try to sing them, and then prayer and then verses and more lyrics and tears that just fell.
I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up with those pages, those words beside me and in my head but the amazing thing was that they were not in my heart.
I woke up feeling free. Bruised and hurt, but free. I would not own these words. But more importantly, they would not own me.
Thursday was spent just kind of wandering. Wandering about my house and my daily tasks and the girls just knew somehow that Mama needed to not be needed. They took care of themselves, bless their hearts.
And my friends, they took care of me. Bless your hearts.
Thursday morning Beth Moore tweeted, "When someone is cut to pieces, words of compassion and kindness loop together in a long thread of stitches woven by the caring hand of God."
I had friends send texts and emails. One friend, one so sweet friend, knocked on my door, handed me Starbucks, hugged me and then left. There was so much compassion and kindness on Thursday that my heart was overwhelmingly full. I couldn't believe it. I really could not believe it.
A kind word would come through a text and I would think how I didn't deserve it.
Grace.
The coffee and the hug? Seriously, I just don't have words for that act of kindness and compassion.
Grace some more.
We went out of town for this Labor Day weekend and when we got home, in my mailbox, you won't believe this, but five letters.
Five.
Full of love.
And happy.
Instead of reading those 2.5 typed pages of hurt, I'm reading handwritten notes on colorful pages with wonderful handwriting.
Salve.
You have been salve to my wounded heart, friends. I couldn't do these days without you. These hard, hurting days, you make them doable.
My word how I love each one of you for being a long thread of stitches, for being Jesus to me these days.
Thank you. Just, thank you.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
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
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
{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
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
random words
a french press does not hold enough cups of coffee.
goldfish will eat sea monkies.
kittens will climb your pant leg.
5 yr olds will still pee the bed.
the price of groceries is ridiculous.
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.
broken people say broken words.
i love my furniture, even if no one else does.
i miss my bicycle.
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, August 19, 2013
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:
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.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
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.
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.
Thursday, August 08, 2013
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)