Running and church and beer

Have I mentioned that I gave up (for the most part) beer and wine and too much food?

I have. 

Not because I have lost that lovin' feelin' for the adult beverages and the yumminess of food, because I haven't,  but because I have signed up for another half marathon and...

My first full marathon.

I started week four of my training today. Alarm went off shortly after five. Today was only three miles.

Anyway, I gave up the other stuff because I feel much healthier just drinking water these days.  I'm not a water drinker.  Never have been.  Why drink something with no flavor? I've always found it pointless.  But I'm drinking at least 72 oz. lately and I'm noticing a significant difference in how I feel and look (less bloaty).

The running three times a week, the water, and the cut back on booze has helped me to lose eight pounds in the last two weeks.  I feel so much better.

I went all FB official with my decision to run the marathon.  I had to.  I knew if I didn't tell anyone that I'd give up on it.  You can't give up on something when you have people asking all the time how training is going.

I'm going to run 26 miles.

Twenty six miles.

Seems absurd since Sunday's run was seven and I was tired.

Speaking of Sunday's run.  I woke up late and was trying to decide if I should skip my run or skip church.  If I went to church it would be too hot to run afterward.  If I went on my run I wouldn't have enough time to get cleaned up and make it to church on time.

Like the good little Christian girl that I am, I chose to run.  I got done and I had time to get to church.  Just not time to get cleaned up.  So, in all my sweaty, running clothes, no make up, ponytail from yesterday glory - I went to church.

Come as you are, right?

Can I just say how much I love my church?  Not the building (though it's cozy) but the people of the church.  I love that I can show up there with my nose ring, tattoos, nasty smelling, sweaty running clothes and it's good.  They're happy I'm there.

So, yeah.  Running and church.  My favorite things these days.

But I sure miss beer.

Summer Swimming

It's been pretty, stinkin' hot where we live (southeastern WA) for over a week. Like 106 hot.

A few days ago I took the girls to the pool a few towns over. It set me back $12 to get in. (Translated to 2.5 Starbucks drinks) I was a little surprised at how much it cost.  We were there about 90 minutes and then we were all just kinda over the water and the sun and the ridiculous amounts of other bodies surrounding us. A couple of days go by, it's still hot but not as hot. About 95. The girls ask if we can go swimming again.

I agreed, but said we'd go a bit earlier in the day so we could hit Free Swim.  Friends, I was not going to pay another $12. And boy am I glad I didn't. Those little stinkers of mine swam for 20 minutes then said the water was too cold and they'd like to go home. 20 minute drive, 20 minute swim, 20 minute drive home. 

Let us back up. The evening before the 20 minute swim day had been a brutal one at our house. I had about a good (read: terrible) couple of hours filled with self doubt, anxiety, hysteria, crying, and yelling. I found myself locked in the bathroom. It was some of my worst moments in the history of moments. 

So Thursday morning I woke up and I felt like my brain was not so foggy. I went for a six mile run, then when the girls woke up asking about swimming, I agreed, but wanted to talk to them first. I explained how sorry I was for the night before and days before of the yelling, short tempered, crabby me that they'd been dealing with. I cried. Spice cried. Sugar knelt in front of me and held and patted my hands.

"We forgive you, Mama." They said.

And my tears fell some more.

So after the beautiful moments of forgiveness and the 20 minute swim, we had coffee. 

Betty invited us to swim with her yesterday.  It was a fantastic couple of hours visiting with her whilst getting a tan. The only thing that could have made it better was alcoholic beverages. (Betty, next time, we'll replace kids with adult beverages.) The girls played hard and within ten minutes of leaving Betty's I find this:

What you can't see is the drool on Sugar's shoulder. It was really attractive. Spice walked into the house, crashed on the couch at 4:45 and didn't wake til 6:30. 

This morning.

Almost 14 hours that child slept.

Angels sang.

I danced.

Swimming is a good time. We enjoy it. The girls are getting more and more comfortable and I find myself breathing a little easier this year letting them in the water.

I said a little. 

I'm still a worry wart.

Of course.

Hoping to get out on the river some night this week after Josh is off work.  Boat time is so relaxing.

When I'm not worrying...

jim and emily

we spent our weekend with jim and emily.  it's one of our absolute favorite things to do, be with them.  oh my goodness the laughter between the four of us.  and  i love watching josh and jim.  they crack me up.  their bff'ness makes my heart happy.  my husband had been a lot of years without a best friend.

jim makes up for all those years josh didn't have someone to hang out with.

emily used to blog too.  i read her blog for a few months before ever commenting but knew by what she wrote that our families could definitely be friends.  it was fun to find out they only lived a few hours from us.  one day i commented on a post of hers and through doing that she started to read my blog too.  it wasn't long before we decided to meet up and it wasn't long after meeting that we made plans for a camping trip.  a camping trip where i laughed too loud and talked too much and was pretty sure that was the end of our friendship.  apparently not.  there's a bond between our families that i will forever be thankful to God for.  there's a closeness, an understanding, a love, an appreciation - i'm getting emotional just thinking about them and us and the last five and a half years of friendship.  it's just good.  it's really really good.

these are friends that we are doing life with.  we get together just to get together.  and then we get together when it's time to roll up our sleeves and do dirty work.  many projects in my house is evidence of this.  jim has been by josh's side through so many of the projects in our house.  many that couldn't have been done without him.  and emily has kept me sane through said projects.  she has made me laugh when i wanted to just burn this place to the ground. she has given up hours of time with her husband so he could be with mine.

there are friends you hang out with just to have fun.  and there are friends you hang out with where you make whatever you are doing together fun.

we know the little quirks about each other and we don't love each other in spite of them, we love each other for them.  we can be our raw, ugly, messy selves and it is okay.  it is good.  there's a safety net in our friendship.

they are the people that no matter the day or time we know we could call if we needed them and they would be there to help us because they have been there to help us.

i know friendship like this is rare.  so i will hold them close and be forever thankful.

and we're at 15 years gone

It's been 15 years today since receiving the call my dad drowned.

Many years I'm a big mess.  Others I'm fine til the end of the day.  And then the summer I was with Natalie and Cori for the weekend, was probably the best.  The healthiest of the anniversaries.

Today, so far, I feel good.  It's nice to not be a blubbery mess.  I always feel so dumb when I get like that.

15 seems like so many years.

Since I was only 19 when my dad died, it won't be long til he'll have been gone from my life longer than he was in it.  That part is hard.  It's all hard.

I'd love to have just one day.  Just one day to sit with him and hear his laugh.  To have a beer together.

Well, crap.  Writing this out and thinking about it is making me a little weepy.  I'm going to stop before I really get started.

Thank you, my friends, for letting me share when my dad is on my heart.  The days are fewer than they used to be, and that feels so much healthier, but when he is, it's best when I can put those feelings down.

The animals are good for my heart.

I have 21 animals.

Twenty.

One.

Animals.

Fish. Guinea pigs. Chickens. Ducks. Dogs. Cats. Kittens.

I have 21 animals and all I can think about is getting more animals.

21 animals and apparently zero marbles.

I get panicky and claustrophobic about the weirdest things, but these animals calm me. I know that sounds strange since some days it seems hectic around here, but really, this place just makes me happy.

This morning I went outside to let the fowl out and I watched as they ran all over the place, the kittens hiding in weeds, ready but too scared to pounce. My yard and my heart are happier with all of these animals.

I really shoulda had more kids.

The only downfall of all the animals at this point is that we are gone quite often.  Seems the weekend shows up and we are outta here.  We don't have the place set up to care for itself and that makes leaving difficult.

I'm sure we'll get it figured out at some point.

Yesterday a couple of chickens decided to come inside.  Josh mighta freaked out a bit when I told him.  He's not as pro-house chicken as I am I guess.

So if you're feeling some anxiety, I recommend a chicken. Those things do your heart some good.

And maybe a duck.  

Or two.

That time my kids went camping.

It is 6:42 AM and upstairs, asleep, are my beautiful children.

I am a content mama right now.

For four mornings I woke up in this house alone. For four nights there were no giggly, squirmy, try-to-get-out-of-bedtime girls. It was a quiet, lonely household.

So lonely I nearly allowed a chicken to come inside for company.

The girls went camping with their grandparents near Mt. Rainier.  This was the longest I've been apart from them and I'm pretty sure we'll never do that again. 

At least not til next month.

I did a lot of laundry while they were gone. I did a lot of sitting and moping. I did some dreaming. Josh was also gone for 2.5 of those four days, so I called the glass company and asked if they'd come install our bathroom mirror for me while he was gone. Bless their hearts, they came right over. (i love small towns)

But while they were gone I did not eat much. I ate at Betty's Friday night, but that was my first meal since Tuesday night. Then I didn't eat again until Saturday night. I lost four lbs. in the four days they were away, and while I missed those girls terribly, maybe they could just leave for another six days so I can reach goal weight?

Thanks so much.

While the peacefulness of my home was nice, the quiet was almost too much sometimes. I'd find myself a little panicky. I was doing laundry, almost every article in the house was washed, dried, and folded (and setting nicely on my dining table, thankyouverymuch).

All of a sudden I had the most ridiculous thought enter my mind.  I cannot believe I'm about to share where my brain goes. But, whatever. I'm folding one of Spice's 4T shirts, nevermind that she is 6, and I think, "what if something awful were to happen to my family, and I have just washed all of their clothes, and I don't have any way to smell their happy dirty smells?"

Before Josh left on Thursday night I had him take off the shirt he'd worn to work that day and give it to me. I slept with that fabulously man-smelly shirt all three nights.

There's just something about your people's smell.

I'm thinking perhaps I should delete the last few paragraphs.  I swear I'm not going to eat my family.  I know I've been hungry the last few days, but trust me, they are safe from my consumption.

Moving on...

Sunday morning I woke for church and was so excited to check in the little people to their Sunday School classes. Then, since I had not yet heard from Josh, I decided to go to second service. I sat through service, so happy to be at church, and knowing my people would be home soon. It was just so good.

I get home and do the dishes that have been sitting since Monday, but have not been added to since Tuesday, and then I hear our diesel Suburban coming down the road and up my driveway and I go running.

And those naughty girls who know better than to unbuckle before the rig is off, they had the door open before it was even stopped, and they threw themselves at me.

"Ooooh, Mommyyyyy!"

And I thought I would come undone.

My arms and heart were full.  Overflowing.

I look up from the hugs and kisses of my girls and I see my man, my man who has just attempted to climb Mt. Rainier. And he gives me that I'm-so-tired-and-happy grin. He had just spent his days with his (second) favorite person on that mountain, and while I worried, I loved that he was with Jim, doing something they enjoy.

So we shared the smile and the look of knowing how good it was that he was home and they were home, with the non-stop chatter, and an occasional just because I missed you hug.

Sugar and Spice make sure all 21 animals are accounted for, loving on all of them before taking off in separate directions. I hear Sugar laughing, Lola barking and I go outside to see this:

She dug a hole, filled it with water, and plopped herself in.  I love that she loves mud. 

Spice shows me this handy tool that she got. It's a whistle, but oh so much more.

She shows me that it has a thermometer, a compass, and a mirror. Then I say, "oh, and it even has a magnifying glass!"

And Spice, she says, "no, Mama, that's what kills bugs."

What was I thinking?  My bad.  Not a magnifying glass.  

A bug killer.

That Spice, she's too much sometimes.

I am so glad they are home.

It's good to be loved

I have this friend.

Her name is Betty.

And I have yet to figure out why, but she likes me.

I have had the hardest time the last several months with accepting her love, friendship, and generosity.

Her and her husband have been so generous to me.  So much love and kindness that I've often felt my heart is about to burst.

I was with my mom yesterday and she asked what my plans for the evening were.  I explained that Betty had invited me over, that her three grown children were all coming home, but that she had invited me to be a part of that.  I told her how that just seemed like a lot to me, your whole family to be together, and then to invite me.

And my mom says, "you do know Sarah, that you are fun to be around."

When you've had someone rip apart all the pieces of who you are, it is difficult to be yourself after that, and believe that it's okay. That there are people who truly like you.  I know, it was only one person. But that one letter was strong and is always in the back of my mind.

All day yesterday I knew that I was invited to go over to their house. I kept fighting with myself about how there's so much to be done around here, and that Betty should just enjoy her family without me being part of that.  But I went.  I even took my toiletries because Betty said I could shower!

(yes, I'm still without one of those at my house.)

She fed me dinner, offered her shower, gave me coffee and cake. Her kids showed up, and they are my friends, too. There were hugs and smiles, lots of laughter, and can I tell you - my heart was so full.

I left their home all filled up.

As I'm driving away I think about how good it is to be loved by them. How good it is to spend time with people who love me for me, the good parts of me, but the damaged parts, too.

I started to question it, then stopped myself.  I just needed to let myself be loved and be thankful.

16 years blessed by him

I started this blog post, got about four paragraphs in, then deleted it.

You see, today is our 16th wedding anniversary and I started to write about "wedded bliss" and how I think that term is a load of shit. (excuse the language, but seriously.)  I started to write the real stuff of marriage of 16 years and I'll say this real quick and then move on.

The real stuff of marriage is hard, friends.  Marriage is hard.  It's the hardest thing I do on a daily basis.

And not because of Josh, but because of me.

Moving on.

Josh and I are here, this sixteenth anniversary, 16 years married because of him.

Because he is faithful.

Because he is kind.

Because he thinks of me before himself.

Because he puts the toilet seat and lid down.

Because he has a heart 10x bigger than the normal person.

Because he gives.

And gives some more.

Because he is patient.

Because he is slow to anger.

Because he has really nice biceps and back muscles.

The list could go on and on.  It really could.  And if you know him, you're nodding your head.  He's all sorts of amazing, and for some reason he stays married to me.

I have given him reason upon reason to send me packing (and there was that time I did) but he chooses to love me.  He chooses to stay.

I have a lot of favorite things about Josh, but I'll share what I feel is my very favorite.  And it makes me laugh to say it's my favorite because it used to be the thing that drove me the most crazy.

The part about Josh being a giver.

You see, Josh rarely takes time for himself.  He's almost always doing something for someone else.  Whether it's for me, the girls, his parents, or...complete strangers.

There was a time when Josh was still driving long haul and a guy was hitchhiking.  This man was running away from his life as a husband and father.  Josh picked him up, kept him with him for a few days, talked with him, brought him to our home, gave him work, and then drove him back to Seattle to reunite him with his family.

Another time we were on our way to some friends, about 45 minutes east of us, to help them move.  On our way we saw a girl in an older Volkswagen Beetle stranded on the side of the road.  Her car was done.  By the looks of her, she was, too.  Josh offered her a ride, explained we had some friends to help, but she was welcome to come along and on our way home we'd pick up her car (we had our flatbed with us) and take her home.  To Seattle.  She took us up on our offer, helped our friends with us, then we loaded up her Beetle, took her to our house and the next day we drove her and her car the three hours home.

A couple months back I was on my bike when I saw a guy stuck and needing to be towed.  I stopped my bike, asked if he needed a tow, and while reluctant to accept my offer of sending my husband, he took me up on it.  I called Josh, explained the situation, he dropped what he was doing to hook up to the flat bed and drive to the town next over to load the guy's truck up and take him home.

There are so many more stories about him doing random acts of kindness.  I'm sure there are so many I don't even know about.

He never gives it a second thought.

Because it's always his first thought.

"How can I help?"

And then he's there and then he does.

Always the giver.

I watch him and I am in awe.  It makes me love him even more when I see him taking care of others and their needs.

So this marriage thing.  This thing we've done for 16 years has been made possible because of Josh.

I hear it at least once a month from one person or another, and I'll tell you here, I am very lucky to be married to him.

Don't think a day goes by that I don't know it.

remembering to write the day to day

Every once in a while I panic.

Who are we kidding?  I panic all the time.

The one that is currently plaguing me is how little I journal just our day to day lives.  My memory is absolutely terrible (unless you wanna know Trevor's license plate from the Ford Explorer or Matt's phone number back in high school, those are things I can remember).

This blog of mine is nearing it's eighth year.  Eighth!  How in the world?  When it was just Sugar running around the house I wrote more about our day to day.  Life was a little less stressful in those days and I found it easier to sit down and write.  Now, there's a Spice.  And there's our homeschool adventure.  And just added stresses.  Some I'm sure I bring upon myself.

Many I bring upon myself.

I use Facebook for updating short blips of our day, and I try to only post things that I think are funny so as to make people laugh.  I really should just take those status updates and write full posts on them because often I could.

I could fill this blog up every single day with the antics of my children or the thoughts of my heart, but I find myself holding back so often on my stuff, and I am just lazy about writing out our day to day.  But I'm starting to worry that the girls will wonder what we did with our days, and if I don't write them out, how will I remember?  Their new thing is to ask me to tell stories of when they were babies.

Sweet stories of Sugar.  And Spice we just tell her, "you cried a lot.  heck, you still cry a lot."  We have stories.  Lots of stories.  I just need to begin again in getting them written.  I need to set aside the time.

So one day they can print out the blog, take it to their therapist, and say, "see.  this is why we're here."

Homeschool Planning

Even though I feel like summer just started, I've started thinking ahead for our school year.  This is kind of a big deal because normally I do my planning for school about three days before we start.

Yay for getting better at this!

We had to test Sugar a few weeks ago per WA State homeschool laws.  I thought we may die. Sugar and testing do not go well together. We made it through, though, and the results were fine.  They helped me to see that our focus on reading and writing is paying off, our math time needs much improvement, and that even if you don't teach science or history for an entire year, your kid is smarter than you thought, and can still whiz right through. 

As each year has passed, we've slowly gotten better with consistency. I get better about taking the school day more seriously.

(As a stay-at-home-mom it is easy for others (and myself!) to think that I can drop what I'm doing at any given moment to run an errand or go hang out, or whatever. This winds up messing with our school day, and we either cut the day short or don't do school at all.)

This year I am committing to trying even harder to complete our entire school day before agreeing to meet a friend for lunch or run an errand for someone.  

I've also decided to stop comparing the level my children are at with that of their cousins, our friends, or those I read about on blogs or Facebook.  As long as there is progress, I will be happy.  The comparing of children is exhausting and kills happiness in all of us.

I'm really looking forward to this school year.  I'm not sure I've been able to say that in previous years.  I think as these few years have gone on, I'm a tiny bit more comfortable in my own skin.  I'm learning more and more what works for our family and the girls as individuals.  

There are certain areas I have been too strict, others where I have been too lax.  I'll be working on (and blogging about) these things and hope to see improvements in all of us.

Now.  I am off to order some new school books (eeee!!!) and get my year off to a strong start!

Once Upon a Birthday

I turned 34 yesterday.

(happy birthday, Sarah!)

(oooohhh, thank you!)

There's just so much about the birthday.  To understand the amazingness of yesterday, we have to start with last Thursday.

Thursday I went with Amber to the hospital for the induction of her baby boy.  The next 27 hours were the most amazing hours I've experienced.  To be with Amber during her labor and delivery was the honor of a lifetime.  You think you love someone, but I don't think you realize how much, until you watch them labor in love for the birth of their baby. I wanted so much to take the pain away and make it my own, even if just for a few minutes for her to have pain-free rest.

Her delivery story is beautiful.

Amber is beautiful.

I'm forever grateful to her and Chris for allowing me to be there.

Immediately following the birth of my new little boyfriend, Josh and I headed out of town to meet Jim and Emily and their family at my friends Jim and Betty's townhouse a few hours from here.  Before leaving Josh had rigged up a way to feed and water our chickens while we were away.  He was worried they would peck each other to death while we were gone so he left the coop open.

Our weekend with Jim and Emily was incredible (and will have its own post tomorrow or so) but coming home was painful.  We found that out of seven chickens and two ducks, we only had two chickens remaining.

My heart broke.

There's no evidence of what went on while we were away, but even after a couple of days home, no bird has returned.  I haven't written much about my love for these birds, but let me just say, it's a little ridiculous.  I sit out in the dirt and just watch them.  I talk to them.  I hold them.  I'm pretty smitten.  So to come home and find nearly all of them missing.  It was almost too much.  It was miserable and my heart, I just couldn't deal.

I go from sad to angry and then back to sad.  Oh my poor (not so) little ducks.  And my chickens.  Ugh!

On Monday we found out that we have the privilege to have Josh's best friend, Jim (of Jim and Emily) staying with us for the next couple of months.  He's working near us and after much threatening of his life, he agreed to stay here.  :) He said he'd stay with us, but he'd have to have a shower (you know, that thing I don't have in my house?) and he immediately went into the bathroom to survey what needed to be done. That evening the poor guy had to listen to me whine about my birds.

And now we are to yesterday.  My birthday!

My mom brought me coffee and then took my girls for the day.  This has been somewhat of a tradition the last couple of years, and I'm so thankful for her.  My friend PW took me to lunch (mmm...burgers and beer) and when I got home Josh had bought me flowers and more coffee.  I took myself to Tri-Cities in running shoes and skirt and ran along the Columbia River.  I ran four miles in 85 degrees and that was quite enough.

After a few errands I went home.  I came home to find that Josh and Jim were working on my bathroom.  Such a beautiful sight!  Those boys.  They had worked so hard all day, had not eaten dinner, and were STILL working at 10 pm on a dumb bathroom!  (they ended up working til nearly 11)  When I walked in Josh told me that Jim had something to show me.  I gave Jim a look.

What did he do?

He smirked that smirk he has and if you know him, you know the one, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Your chickens came home."  he says.

Huh?

The three of us go outside to the barn, to the coop, where just my two remaining chickens are and I find (I'm starting to cry right now) chickens!  Six new chickens!  And ducks! Two little ducks.  Jim and Emily bought me new birds!  My goodness, I can't even begin to describe my joy.  They are so beautiful.  And noisy. The boys also did a ton of work to secure the coop, nothing can get in or out.  I was out of bed at 5:30 this morning to go talk to them and hold them and feed them.

I just don't deserve a day like yesterday.  I really don't.  But my word am I thankful for the love of friends.  My heart is overflowing.

Absolutely overflowing.

Chickens!  And ducks!  I'm just so happy.  So very happy.

I'm pretty sure I planted a bunch of The Pot

Let me tell you a story.

About three-ish weeks ago my friend PW sent a text saying he might stop by.  Yay!  Company!

But I was having a pretty bad day and about 30 minutes after he sent his text saying he might stop by, I decided I should at least warn him what he was in for and so I sent a warning text along the lines of, "I'm wearing my crabbiest of pants today."

Dude's a sucker for punishment because he still showed up.  So he sat on the couch playing with his phone and I was doing dishes and tending to children and then all of a sudden I decided to tell him about my bad day.

You see, I had decided it was time to build a garden.  It was April after all.  It was time.  So I went outside with my hoe and my (very little) determination and I starting hoeing.  I got like three rows hoed when I realized there was absolutely no way me and my OCDness were going to be able to continue.  I wanted to light that dirt on fire so bad because I was so mad at it.  And setting things on fire is how I make sure no one knows I even tried a project if it winds up a failure. (And they all wind up to be failures) See?

Instead of trying to light my dirt on fire I threw the hoe as far as I could (because I'm super mature like that) and then I cried.  Woe is me.

So I'm lamenting to PW about how I can do nothing right.  I'm terrible at everything.  I can't even make rows of dirt look good.  May as well go eat worms.  And bless his heart, he went out to that dirt spot, picked up the hoe, and he built me a garden.

My day was instantly all better and instead of crying over my stupid dirt, I wanted to cry because I was so happy and thankful for this friend who understands when I am crabby.

A few days later the girls and I are at the library for school and Thomas the Librarian (who really doubles as my therapist) and I are talking gardens and I show him a picture of my pretty dirt and he asks what I'm going to plant.

Right.

I'm supposed to plant something in that pretty dirt.

And he can tell that I haven't the slightest clue how to plant or what to plant and he says he has a bunch of starts that he will give me when I come back to the library the next day.

True to his word, Thomas the Librarian/Therapist had a bunch of plants for me.  He tells me what they are, what to do with them, what not to do with them, and sends me on my way.

Um.  Fast forward three weeks and my pretty dirt is a little less pretty and a lot weedy and the plants Thomas has given me are amazingly still alive but I forget what they are.

Tonight Josh took our girls to the drag races because that is what dads and daughters like to do, don't you know?  Little girls like loud, fast cars and getting dirty.  

So while they were gone I very nearly sent a text to my friend Betty inviting myself to be her fourth child for the night, but she had already spent three hours with me today and I decided that was probably enough for her for one day.  

I was sitting outside, enjoying a book, and my pretty yard and the brilliant silence when I looked over and saw the box full of plants that needed planting.

Heck. Why. Not.

I grabbed that box full of unidentified plants and I shoveled away some dirt and put in some plants and seeds and watered and weeded and then I called it a day.

Since most of those plants aren't labeled and I'm completely unaware as to what they are, it's very likely Thomas the Librarian gave me a bunch of the mari-ji-wana.  

Which I will in turn sell to pay my library fines.

words and worry. worry and words.

I love words. To say the words, because, hi, I'm Sarah and I really like to talk, but mostly to write the words.

I really like to write them. 

Words are often a lifeline of sorts. I can feel like I'm drowning. Flailing my arms at life and I will be so angry (always with this inner turmoil) that I can't say a word, the hot, angry, frustrated tears will come - but oh if I can write it out, just maybe that's the life preserver I need.

Some people can say the words they need to say aloud. They have an out loud voice and this is good for them, it works for them.  I find it safer to write my words. I can turn my pencil over and erase them, or I can pound the backspace bar.  But even in the safety net of writing them, I'm often scared outta my mind to publish them.

Or after publishing a FB or blog post, I panic.

I woke this morning at 3:15.  Couldn't sleep.  Could only think about how afraid I am of words I've already said and do people get tired, oh so tired, of hearing my voice?  

On Saturday I had a morning coffee date with my friend Betty.  Nearly five amazing hours later we parted ways and immediately I panicked that I said too many of the words in our time together. I'm scared of my out loud words.

While I love to write and love to talk, I want to be the listening friend as well.  I know. It goes both ways. Some days you listen, some days you talk.  I'm just always afraid I do too much of the talking.  Too much out loud.

I worry. Oh my goodness, always with the worry.  Did my FB offend? Did my Instagram picture description make someone roll their eyes? Do my blog posts always ramble? Am I as obnoxious in person as that one family member told me I was?

I've always been afraid of that.  And then someone voiced my fear and now it's there. Always there.  This constant doubt about myself and who I am and what I say.

And even about how hard I laugh.

I just want to be confident to say words without fear that they are always the wrong words, the obnoxious words. I want to feel that it's okay to just be me.  

{it's now midnight, I started the post at 2 pm}

I woke up after nearly 90 minutes of sleep.  Woke with the panicky feeling.  Earlier today (or I suppose, yesterday) I had Checked-In on FB that I was at the tattoo shop.  I have been so excited about this gypsy tattoo of mine.  But what if others don't like it?  What if they think me foolish?  Delete the post? It's midnight.  It's already been seen.  It's too late.

So I lay here.

With more worry.  It's this ugly thing. This constant thing.  It makes me tired.

And before I talk myself out of posting this, I'm just going to.  And in a few more hours I'm sure to wake again wondering about all of these wrong words as well.

i've found my safe place of people

Wednesday nights.  Bible study nights.  At our church we call them GROW groups.

While I'm still a big fat mess, I do believe in the few weeks we've been attending this bible study group, I have grown.  That I'm growing.

Wednesday has quickly become my most favorite day of the week.

My favorite day because I am weak and here I get strong.

I'm that girl who goes to church on Sunday, sits in the pew that isn't a pew at all but a theater seat.  I open up my bible that inside the back cover has a bumper sticker that says, "Keep Portland Beered" and on the front cover I have written, "GOD USES BROKEN PEOPLE."  And every time I look at that I think about how broken I am and how I still hold out hope that God can use me and this brokenness.

Sundays, well that used to be the only day I would open my bible.  The only day.  I would go about my week and Saturday night would come and I would think about where my bible might be and well, it's in the car where I left it.

Because I haven't opened it.

::sigh::

I don't have to open my bible to go to Heaven.  I know this.  But I do have to open my bible if I want to grow.  If I want to learn more about Jesus.  And I do want to grow and I know I'm terrible at showing it, living it, but I really do wanna learn more about Jesus.

I've been stunted for so long.

So these last couple of weeks I go to church on Sunday and then I try to get my bible opened up again even after that day because I know Wednesday is coming and I want to be part of discussion.  Even if I don't utter any of my own thoughts, I want to at least know what's going to be talked about, and maybe just maybe one of these times I'll be brave enough to share my opinion too. So I try to go over the questions, the scripture that's outlined in our bulletin.

I go about my week while going about my weak, knowing that Wednesday is coming and Wednesday makes me feel safe. loved. received. and accepted.  Wednesdays are getting me to Sunday, where I am privileged enough to go to church and find myself again loved, received, and accepted.

I'm scared to death of small groups.  I don't like me very much.  And am sure most anyone else who gets to know me won't like me, either.  But there's so much good in getting out of our comfort zone and doing that hard thing.  For me that hard thing was joining a group of people I didn't know.  Then slowly showing me to them.  Wednesday after everyone else had left our group, I stayed behind to talk with Tony and Marci.  I know they get up so early, and I kept thinking, "I need to leave!" but they were so kind to listen to some of my heart.  It's scary to talk about heart things.  But there's so much freedom in it.  So much healing.  And don't we all need some healing?

Get yourself in a small group of some kind. Find the people who are going to love you and instruct you, who will encourage you in life, and in your walk with Jesus, who let you share your mess, your heart.

Find your safe place of people.

My job is not the toughest

Have you seen the video going around about the world's toughest job? The 24 applicants?

We all knew it was going to be the mom, right?  Moms have the toughest jobs.

I wasn't super crazy about the video.  The sentiment was cute and all, but I'm not that mom.  I'm not on my feet all day (a lot of it, yes) I'm not super busy (unless FB and Instagram count for busy then yes, I am so busy) and I don't feel like I step it up at the holidays.

I'm a lazy mom.  A selfish mom.  A just get through this day mom.  I'm a your clothes are clean enough mom.  A your hair was brushed last week mom.  

Several of my mom friends posted the video and all I could think was how my kids should have them for moms because I bet they always brush their girls' hair perfectly and dress them in the finest of clothes with matching socks (and shoes) and make their kids more than gluten free Eggos every damn day for breakfast.

My girls often make their own breakfasts and lunches.  

Yesterday Sugar wore these stretch pants to Bible study that she'd been wearing all day in the barn with ducks and chicks. Holes. Dirt. Duck poop.  Oops.  Totally didn't notice until we were walking up the steps to their house.

And her hair was in the same ponytail I put it in a couple of days ago.

I couldn't have applied for the job in that stupid video because I'm not that mom.  

My husband is that mom but I'm sure not.

an update on life at our casa

It's been awhile since I've updated about the bathroom.  There's a reason for that.  There's nothing to update.

Sigh.

The other night I came home from a 30 mile bike ride.  The sweat was starting to dry and I felt chilled.  I looked at Josh and said, "you know what I miss?"

"A shower?"

Yes, I miss showers.  I told him I hoped we'd have a shower by August.

His reply?

"Of this year or next?"

Sigh some more.

I know that's how projects go around here.  There have been 14.5 years of projects like this at our house, but being without a shower isn't easy.  I take a bath and then I have to go to the kitchen to wash my hair in the sink.  The girls bathe at home and then, try not to be grossed out, get their hair washed on Wednesday when they stay with my mom.

Josh has been so crazy busy with work and there doesn't seem to be any down time on the horizon.  While I'm so proud of him and how hard he works for his company, I wish he had some vacation time to work on our house.

I haven't been running.  I did get my bike out last week and put in about 40 miles last week and around 50 so far this week.  I've already dropped a couple of pounds.  (Wanna lose weight?  Ride a bicycle.)  However, I miss running.  It's harder.  There's a different feeling after a run than there is after a ride.  So much more of my guts going into running.  Biking is a different sort of work out and up until about the 25 mile mark it's more like a fun time instead of a work out.

Thank goodness we've decided to school through the summer months since the last couple of weeks have been pretty hit or miss with school.  Attitudes, theirs or mine, schedule conflicts, sickness, etc. have all kept us from our regularly scheduled school time.  I'm not too concerned, but a smidge.  The girls are happy, healthy, learning, talkative, and quite rambunctious.  Daily making me laugh aloud.

Just the other day I found them undressing in our front yard, putting on wet suits and getting into the cast iron bath tub I'd filled for the ducks we bought a few weeks ago.

(ducks are another blog post)

When they were finished with that I asked them to empty the dishwasher.  They showed up in bike helmets.

I've asked my mom if they're okay.  Sometimes I fear their quirkiness.  I mean, they are real weirdos some days.  She assured me they're fine.

Okay.  Just got a call from Josh, he's almost home from work.  That's my cue to get off my butt.  :)

A new day.

I'm so glad it's today.

Yesterday was a rough one.  Most of the day was really good, but once the girls and I got home from all the stuff we'd done all day, well, I was done.

Physically.  Emotionally.  Spiritually.

To top things off Josh didn't get home until nearly 8:00.  Any minute past 5:00 feels like an hour, especially after a tiring day.  So, at about 6:30 I told the girls I was done and I headed to bed. 

I turned on Casting Crowns Pandora station.  I tried to pray aloud, but have you ever felt so junky about yourself you couldn't even pray?  That was where I was.

Josh came home, I heated up his dinner (chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy. If you're curious) and went back to bed.  He came up shortly after.  Read a magazine.  Quietly.  Then I started coughing and couldn't quit.  He gave me NyQuil, which I haven't had since childhood and OH MY WORD it's still as nasty as I remember.  It killed my cough and knocked me out and I woke up today feeling like a new person.

A happier person.

I woke up to this.

Rain.  To wash away my yesterday.

Sunrise.  New day.  New mercies.

poop post

Just the title should send you running.  It really should.

Yesterday afternoon there was still no working toilet. We were all still using the back porch. Even my mom who came to visit.  She's such a trooper.

But then one of my girls and I didn't hafta just urinate. And it was like reliving our life in the Peterbilt.  

As if shitting (pardon the launguage, but seriously I'm at the point where I'm allowed a few bad words) in a plastic bag isn't bad enough, hauling it outside is pretty mortifying, but finding that the dog has knocked that huge garbage can over and ravaged what you just put in there?

Well.

I sent Amber a goodbye forever text. I was ready to slit my own wrists.

But then Josh got our toilet hooked up and all is right in my world again. 

And thank goodness he got it working when he did. I have a sick kiddo today who needs this thing.

The one where I piss and moan.

Guys. I'm about to whine and be a big, fat, sissy-la-la right now. I suggest if you don't wanna hear about my first world problems, you click that little x at the top right.

I am in quite a bit of pain. The work we did Saturday was very physically demanding. We did some spring cleaning with our bible study group and then we did the work in our basement for the bathroom.  2x10s and sledgehammers are not my friends.

Yesterday while I was driving I could feel some pain in my back.  After my drive and getting out of the car I could hardly walk. So. Much. Pain.

I have iced it. I have heated it. I've tried muscle relaxers.  I just hurt and nothing is helping.

Especially not the squatting outside to pee!  And what's the plastic bag quota per person for the duration of their life? Because I do believe I have reached mine.

I was going to go to the laundromat today. I was going to find a way to refill my five gallon jug so I could do dishes today.  My back was like, "yeah, good luck even moving today."

I haven't done laundry since last Tuesday.  I haven't done dishes since Friday. I miss running water.

And a toilet.

And a back that works.

Whine over.

PS: on my drive yesterday I stopped at a park to use the bathroom only to find this: 

WELCOME TO MY LIFE, INTERNETS.

bathroom progress

Oi.

It has been a long weekend of working on this bathroom.  But we are finally at a point where things are being put back together instead of being torn apart.

This is progress.

Yesterday the bathroom (if you can call it that) looked like this:

Josh is standing in the bathroom and the basement at the same time.  Sigh.

The floor coming out was not planned, but isn't that the way it goes?  

Now the bathroom floor looks like this:

In the top left is where the toilet will go, pretty much where it was before, but it used to face south, now it will face east toward the double vanity I bought off CraigsList for $50. (That vanity is another blog post all its own.  I have had it in my basement waiting for this bathroom remodel to happen. Excited to put 'er to use!)

If you were to be standing in front of the toilet, to the left of it will be a wall and the tub.  Yesterday we put in some supporting beams in the basement because our tub is cast iron and freaking heavy.  It's one item I refuse to give up. I lurve my bathtub. 

I'm looking forward to the window being exposed instead of hidden behind a shower curtain.  Natural light makes my heart happy.

Drywall should be going up in a couple of days and this is the area where I will do most of the work.  I'll be glad to feel like I'm contributing to this project instead of just being the girl who hands over the hammer or screw gun or the level.

Josh doesn't care for drywall work and I find that I am good at it and enjoy it. 

On Friday night Josh cut off all plumbing to the house.  All of it.  No water.  No toilet.  I had called about having an outhouse delivered but opted to take care of my own pee for free.  So I've been sitting on my back porch and peeing off the side of it.

You're welcome for that bit of info.

When we tell people we've gutted our bathroom and have no toilet, their response has been, "but it's your second bathroom, right? You have another."

Uh.

Nope.

And then they don't actually say the question aloud, but I can read it by their expression, so I just answer with more information than they care to know.

"So, yeah, we just pee outside."

A friend from our bible study group called last night and asked if we wanted to use their bathroom before they headed off to bed.  It was very kind.  He says, "that Josh sure married a mountain woman."

Haha!!

I'm no mountain woman but I'm no prissy pants either.

We're hoping to have a working toilet tonight.  Or maybe tomorrow.  Who really knows?