I Am Not a Blogger

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Here’s a little bit of everything to catch you up, people.

2014 has been pretty great so far. We’ve been able to have some fun as a family in the unpredictable Florida weather, we’ve eaten a ghastly amount of cookies. I’ve learned-slash-admitted a few more things about myself. It’s been like having tiny lightbulbs flicker on while I do laundry or take a shower or talk to someone (I’m an external processor all.the.way.). It’s been a month of mini-epiphanies. Nothing huge or world-rocking, more just “hmmm, ya, I think that’s true/good/ok”.

Some of my gleanings:

-I am horrible at waking up.

-I am a professional guilt-carrier.

-The shared freedom in both of the above reminders is the realization that sleep is SUPER important to me (this is one of those “duh” kind of ideas, but my stubborn brain has tried to convince me that I can still run on four hours of sleep–a la college days–and happily take care of a family the next morning) aaaand that guilt sucks. It’s just stupid. And I tend to feel it most about things that truly don’t matter, like whether or not I woke up early in January. Fugget about it.

-Cookies made with oatmeal and applesauce–never mind what else is in them–are completely acceptable for breakfast. And your children will love you.

-People are walking miracles. Cue the sappy music, but c’mon! Good grief. Tons of miracles walking around. Seeing this truth is slowly growing a longer pause in my unthinking and graceless words.

-I complain. Even if it isn’t always out loud. It’s grody. The seeing miracles and living in and living out grace thing, though, gives me far fewer reasons to whine.

-I’ve been reading more and writing a little less. Not on purpose, it’s just worked out that way.

-I really love reading and I really love writing.

This podcast, listened to in three parts–while cooking dinner, cleaning up, and after kids were tucked in for the night–was so well timed that I goofy-grinned while shredding cheese that evening. I’m not a blogger. I love reading blogs and I love writing them, but I’m not a blogger. I am a writer. Even saying those words, thinking them, typing them out, makes me feel arrogant (or like I’m setting myself up for embarrassment), but I think it’s true. No matter what weird phases I’ve gone through, those two things, reading and writing, have been my constants.

-Blogs with tips, projects, and daily posts are amazing. I love visiting them and have learned some wonderful things from them, but I can’t do it. I’m far too flighty and forgetful to write something worth reading every day. Aaaand exhale…I did it. I admitted that I am not “good” at blogging. I don’t have a writing schedule or tons of helpful advice. And, when I have time to write in the evenings, all I really want to do is read, sleep, talk or watch The West Wing (we’re on Season 3 in case you’re wondering–pleated pants and shoulder pads for days).

-I don’t know what this blog will become or if it will fizzle out entirely. I never say never anymore. For now, I’ll keep reading, talking, and writing. I don’t know what about, but if I think it’s worth sharing, you’ll hear about it. Promise. Just as soon as I finish ooone more episode of West Wing.

Oh, and the “goal” for February is to be extra aware of and picky about what’s going on our calendar. Making space for that Philippians 4:8 stuff.

Quote of the Week 11.15.13

This QOTW is a two-fer from my favorite two-year-old, Kylie. (Unintentionally) sage wisdom from a girl who just reached the 23 pound mark!

“It’s time for right now!” -Kylie (8:00 AM Tuesday, November 12th)

“Let’s be us!” -Kylie (8:12 AM Tuesday, November 12th)

All of us big folks were like, “Yeaaaah. Woah, Kylie. That’s deep”. And she was like, “I’m naked!”

Keep your ears open, friends. You never know what dope knowledge these little people will drop while they go streaking through your bedroom!

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What Brings Us Together…

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“I love that poop is what brought us together today”.

This was a hilariously profound thing to hear as I was loading my kids into the minivan. I was heading back home after a pick-up, turned wonderful visit, landed a graciously-loaned carpet steam vac in my trunk.

One of our children, who shall remain unnamed (hint: it was the potty-training Little Love), de–stroy–ed a patch of white carpet…with poop. And then stepped in it. Just to bring everyone up to speed here, there was a trail of toddler excrement mashed into my white, non-Scotchguarded carpet. Did I mention that we have WHITE CARPET?!?!

My hilariously profound friend had answered my facebook call for help and hooked me up with her heavy duty steam machine to tackle the floor. She’s an incredible woman who is living through a heavy unexpected loss with grace, faith, and refreshing honesty. During our visit, we laughed, teared up, and she told me about a divinely random group she had been a part of the day before.

Sitting with a group of women, she found herself in the company of a mother grieving the recent loss of a baby to SIDS, another woman mourning the loss of a loved one, a mother/grandmother whose son is in jail, unable to protest the baby’s mother’s being forced to give the baby up for adoption. There was pain. There was brutal honesty. And there was redemption. The last of the introductions in this group of women, another mother, spoke up and, turning to the new grandmother, said “I know this all seems really bad to you, but I’m adopted and two of my kids are adopted.” There is Hope.

I can almost hear the sigh that must have escaped through the tears being held back. It wasn’t a delusional “everything will be fine, so stop crying and smile” kind of hope offered. It was real and true! Bad things happen every day all over the world. Some of them have happened and will happen to you, some of them have happened and will happen to me. We live in a broken, screwed up, confusing world. We can have a Hope, though.

To close this out very poetically. We all have poop. Poop happens. To everyone. It’s not fun. Ever. Have you seen poop on white carpet? It’s awful. It’s nasty, but everyone has it (well, hopefully not on white carpet–I wish that on none of you. ever.)

It’s a part of life and, in its own weird way, in it’s realness, it bring us together. Poop brings us together. There, I said it. 

P.S. The stains came out! My friend, Spot Shot and steam cleaners are a magical (and security-deposit-saving) combination! I don’t normally use harsh chemicals, but this was war.

Quote of the Week #26

I’m breaking my silence. At least a little. I suppose this would be considered a whisper of sorts. “Pssst…here’s something my kid said that disturbed me”…enjoy.

Teagan (newly 4 years old): “What’s that smell?”

Her father, Gabriel, and I: “What smell?”

Teagan: “I don’t know; it smells a little stinky.”

Gabe and I, after sniffing around and hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t what we thought: “The grass? Are you talking about the grass? It’s the grass, sweetie. It’s grass.”

Gabe and I, to each other and the Heavens: “Dear God, help our children.”

Note to self: If we live by the beach for any extended period of time, make sure we walk around a field or something every so often so that our kids know what friggin grass smells like. Sheesh.

Parenting fail? Oy. Wait. No. I’m not even taking the blame for this one. I don’t know what’s wrong with her nose. It’s cute as a button, but clearly defective in some way. Maybe we’ll get her a new one for Christmas.

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Quote of the Week #24

Classic Father-Daughter chat from this week:

Teagan: Daddy, why do you laugh at toots?

Daddy: Because I think they’re funny.

Teagan: Oh. Well, I think they’re…[waits a beat]…dangerous.

There you have it, folks. I married a man who literally laughs in the face of danger. (and also, apparently, gave birth to two very dangerous little humans)

Happy Friday.

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