A little more conversation, a little less action...

I'm having a mini-retreat, shutting myself in the hotel room while hubby attends a conference and my mom and Aunt Lala keep my girls. I haven't been away since before Little Sister was born, but I really need a getaway. There are too many things to busy myself with at home, too many things demanding my attention. In my quest to fill all of the roles I've taken on in my life (mother, wife, homemaker, short-order cook, dog trainer chaser, kids worship leader, blogger, etc.) I've neglected an important one.

I'm going to try to focus on just being a Child of God. I'm going to try to be Mary and leave my Martha in the kitchen for a bit. I'd like to sit at the feet of Jesus.



And when his sessions are over, I'd like to sit at The Cheesecake Factory with my husband! See you in a few days...

The Good Old Days?

A friend of mine posted this hilarious (yet troubling) compilation of creepy vintage ads on her facebook page today. Never before have I nearly peed my pants laughing and wanted to hide my face in horror at the same time. Okay, maybe when I tried to watch 40 Year Old Virgin. (Did I just admit that? I'm getting a little too comfortable with this whole honesty thing... to be fair, it was the TBS version.)

Anyway... those ads, along with something I heard on Sunday, have got me thinking about "the good old days." Sunday night we had a community orchestra play at our church. Lately my ADD tendencies have been making it hard to sit for long sets of instrumental music, (something my music profs would just love to hear, I'm sure) but this was quite good. Except for the intros.

You know what I'm talking about. Band, orchestra and choir directors alike all feel the need to talk before their music. And I get that. I've introduced many a solo- explaining the significance, or the history, or whatever. But some people just take it too far. They tell you WAY too much information (I see that wry smile. You're the one who decided to read my blog. You chose to receive all of my TMI!) or they stammer through a long history involving lots of composers with horribly mispronounced German names. But this guy...

Well, he was introducing a section of the concert that was a tribute to Americana. And here is what he said: "How many of you remember when it was great to live in America?" after a confused mumbled affirmation from the audience, he then went on. "Those days will come again."

WHAT? If you don't have a problem with what this doodle-head said, let me share mine. It is three-fold:

1. Now, I am not the most patriotic person, but I think that sounds a little unsupportive of our country. But more than that, I think it sounds a little ridiculous. We have freedoms in our country that others can only long for: voting, worshiping, protesting, etc. etc. etc. We are also one of the wealthiest countries in terms of our Gross Domestic Product and our Per Capita Income. We have access to clean water. Most of us have more than enough food. We have access to medicine and doctors (while all around the world people are dying from things we can treat with a trip to CVS). We are not being driven from our homes or murdered because of our ethnicity or religious sect. We are not watching men (and boys) with automatic weapons walk past our homes, praying for the safety of our children. Women in our country are not routinely subject to female circumcision, or sold into sex slavery to pay off their families' insurmountable debt. I suppose this man was comparing present-day America with another time, but in the present, we are VERY fortunate to live where we live.
2. IF this guy was referring to the current president, he has made the assumption that everyone in the auditorium cast the same vote back in November that he did and was therefore disappointed with the outcome. Well, you know what happens when you assume...
3. IF he was not referring to the recent change in our country, I can only guess that maybe he was harkening back to the "good old days" like so many in the church like to do. The sweet, simpler times of the 1950s- when families ate dinner together. When you could leave your doors unlocked. When milk came to your door in cute little glass bottles. When TV shut off at night and never showed nudity or profanity or (gasp) music videos. AND when Sputnik launched and the irrational, overblown fear of communism had everyone, especially some guy named McCarthy, completely paranoid. When women were expected to fill a single, limited role in society. And when African American people couldn't sit with, eat with, share a water fountain with, or even pee near, white Americans. Seriously. I am going to make my own assumption here, but I would guess that none of the black audience members would really like to travel with you back to Mayberry, buddy. And frankly, when I think about it that way, neither would I.

See, I'm a fan of history. My home is decorated with a hodge podge of french country/primitive/eclectic hand-me-down stuff. I can spend hours in antique malls. I love reading about and studying different eras, especially in biographies. Some of my favorite places on earth are the ones that have such a tangible sense of history, you feel you can almost reach out & touch the spirits that once made them home (Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill and New Harmony, Indiana are just a few that come to mind). Nothing makes you feel more insignificant, yet at the same time, connected and filled with possibility, as standing where people have been standing for hundreds of years.

I'm also a very sentimental person. I get misty-eyed looking at old photo albums. I can spend hours talking about music from any given stage of my life. I keep everything. I might be extreme, but I think we all like to remember and cherish moments long since gone. We all like to think back to when things were simpler. But the truth is, our memories are probably the truly "simple" component. Hindsight may be 20/20, but nostalgia wears rose-colored glasses.

It's not necessarily a bad thing- it allows us to remember more good than bad things about lost loved ones, to be grateful for the unique experiences and people that shaped us into who we are today. It probably guards us from guilt and unneeded heartache- let's face it, if we really wanted to dredge up all the bad stuff everytime we felt a little nostalgic, we'd all need a lot more therapy. (Raise your hand if those ads alone are going to require an extra session!)

I'm not trying to dump a big fat reality-check into the middle of all of our fond memories. I'm just asking that we remember how far we've come. I'm hoping that we are thankful for today, not just longing for yesterday. I'm suggesting that there are sometimes reasons why those days will never come again. I'm encouraging us to get up & dance, rather than waste time lamenting on how the music has changed.

I'm asking for a little less introduction, and a little more song.

A different kind of Not Me Monday...

Who knows the heartache of having a baby who is sick before he is even born, wondering if she will ever even get to hold him and tell him how much she has prayed for him? Not me.

Who has been a faithful servant and messenger for God throughout her troubled pregnancy and the first few months of her miracle baby's life? Not me.

Who has shared her heart, and her sweet baby's story, with thousands of mommies on her blog? Not me.

And who has stayed up all night, terrified for her baby's yet-again failing health, trying to keep up hope and keep her followers updated? Not me. I can't imagine this kind of pain, or strength.

But MckMama has. And she & Stellan desperately need our prayers now, as he is en route to (or possibly already in) Boston for a last hope at helping heal his little heart and save his life. Join with me & thousands of others praying for them.




Here are some other bloggers currently lifting them up in prayer.

Song for Sunday: He watches me...

His Eye Is On The Sparrow
by Civilla D. Martin


Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.


"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:6-7


Keep praying for Stellan, things are not looking very good.

A green giveaway!

Check out this great contest, running until tomorrow night (7/27).

You can visit Baby Loving Mama and learn about being green. AND you can enter to win a $200 Patagonia gift card, furnished by The Juice.

Or you know, don't, so I have a better chance ;)

Aha!

An ear infection.

That is what has turned Little Sister from laid-back, loving little one to frustrated, frightening, ferocious... um... foo-foo head? (I ran out of f's for my attempt at alliteration. To be fair, though, foo-foo head is one of the few allowed and more commonly used expletives in our house. I know, I'm a dork!)

We spent almost two hours waiting to see the doctor, and it took him about two minutes to diagnose her and prescribe my favorite... antibiotics. Ick. And even though I've read this article by Dr. Greene enough to know better, I still squirted the pink stuff into her mouth last night.

The truth is, I don't know for sure what is causing her congestion and ear pain- my guess is the problems she has been having with dairy & soy- but I waited it out for a while to see if it was just a "summer cold" or something that needed to run its course. It did not, and my darling toddler has become, well, not-so-darling some of the time because she feels terrible.

How do I know she feels terrible? I can guess because yesterday, I felt terrible. My minor sinus congestion turned into full-fledged body-aching, head pounding, chills, swollen throat, etc. My wonderful husband handled things so I could get some rest and I slept for 12 hours (well, I never really sleep that long. I still woke up too many times to count, listening to the girls, the dogs, the creaks in the house, the list of things to do in my head, and so on...)

When I got up this morning I felt a lot better, though still not 100%. But if this is what poor Little Sister has been dealing with for weeks now, I can completely understand all the biting and crabbiness! I just want to give the poor babe some relief, as quickly as possible.

So, acknowledging that sometimes mothering is choosing the lesser of two evils, pink stuff it is.



PS- our little health problems are nothing compared to what poor Stellan is going through again. Check out MckMama's blog and join me in praying for this family, won't you?

Bad mom confession #4

Today, my children had all natural Annie's "Honey Bunnies" cereal for breakfast. Big Sister complained, because when I told her there was a bunny on the box, she expected Trix. I told her that I didn't really want to buy Trix because it wasn't as good for her as this new cereal. And that I wanted to be sure she ate good foods that would keep her healthy.

Wanna know what I had for breakfast (while no one was looking)?
A Little Debbie Nutty Bar.

Am I an awesome example or what?

Needing a little R & R...

This is what I meant when I said we are still trying to recover:


Poor Little Sister. Vacation, teething, and weekend day tripping can wear a girl out.

Oh. And carrying random stuff around (shhh! Yes, those are disposable diapers) while stepping over the self-made obstacle courses all over the house.

And reading. And figuring out how all of those darned toys work.

And feeding your big sister (I wish there were audio with this pic because you would hear her saying "Mmmmmm" while she watches Big Sister taste whatever she just handed her.)

And returning all of those important phone calls.

I mean, who wouldn't be worn out?

So that explains why she fell asleep after breakfast. I am hoping it also explains the new personality she is exhibiting- the one that hit me when I wouldn't give her my car keys, bit her sister on the boob (or chest, or breast, or whatever other awkward word Hannah decides to use today) and flung her baby dolls on the ground when they didn't cooperate.

Yes, dear friends, I am a little concerned, because as horrible as my eldest child can be from time to time, I do not remember this level of stubbornness or impatience displayed in her early toddling days. I'm really hoping this is not an indicator of things to come! I'm praying that, with some rest and the end of this round of teething, I'll see the return of this little darling.

Of course, you should have seen it before I fixed the red eye...

Take me out to the Ballgame!

(just make the ballgame a little closer...)


We had a busy Saturday. It was my mom's birthday, by the way. I had every intention of writing something about how wonderful and giving and patient she is, about how much we miss her in between visits, about how she is Big Sister's favorite person in the world, and about how much more I appreciate her now that I know first-hand the challenges of mommy-ing (especially kids as stubborn as myself). I love you mom! You were on our minds.

But we had a busy Saturday...

We went to the Braves' game with some college students from church. Our plan was to leave early and get something to eat- we were looking forward to CPK or Cheesecake Factory or something else we don't have here. But when we did stop, Big Sister had an accident in the bathroom stall and our dinner stop turned into an Old Navy shopping spree as I tried to replace an entire outfit, all the way down to the underwear and shoes. I have NO idea why we took the change of clothes out of the van, but I am blaming my husband and one of his must-clean-out-the-car-lest-anyone-realizes-we-have-messy-little-children-and-busy-lives modes.

So, $24.50 and lots of baby wipes later, we were back on the road. (Can I just chase another rabbit for a moment? The lady at Old Navy applauded me for buying a whole outfit for my four-year-old for less than $25. I do not see this as an accomplishment. When I deliberately go shopping for my kids, I usually get about four play outfits for that amount. So no, extremely over-helpful Old Navy woman, I am not "super-excited" with what I found. Especially since the sign said "all toddler girl tanks $5, but the one I picked out rang up at 9... but enough of my miserly musings, back to the trip...)

Traffic was terrible and parking/walking in with two little ones wasn't much better. When we finally sat down, it was the 5th or 6th inning. I can't be sure because I didn't really ever see the game. I think I watched a bit of the top of the ninth on the jumbotron, but that was about it. Poor hubby left shortly after our arrival to chase down a healthy dinner (hot dogs, pretzels, funnel cake and deep fried twinkies... my husband the health nut) and didn't return until after the 7th inning stretch.

After a little while, Little Sister decided she was hungry. I fed her all of the snacks in the diaper bag, but she wanted to nurse. We were sitting directly in the sun, and I didn't want her to smother under my nursing cover, so she remained extra clingy & fussy despite two jars of babyfood until I gave her some... wait for it... cotton candy. I gave my 13 month old cotton candy. Just a little bit. It was a baseball game! You have to eat junk at a baseball game or you don't get the full experience, am I right?

So, to review, Little Sister was fussy, I was trying to appease her, Daddy was standing in line, and Big Sister... well, Big Sister was having the time of her life. She loved it. As soon as we got there, she noticed what the other fans were doing and joined right in with the Tomahawk Chop (so PC, I know). She sat with three girls who went with us, counselors from my summer camp, and soaked in her first major league game.

Big Sister took the responsibilities of spectator very seriously. She clapped and cheered and tried the motions for "YMCA." She went running to the end of the row everytime something big happened, so that Miss Stephanie could lift her up for a better view. She literally stretched during the 7th inning stretch. At one point she was telling me a story, and she stopped mid-sentence to yell "Charge!" and then continued on with her tale as if nothing had just happened. I only hope she was enjoying all of these things and not just being her little worrisome, perfectionist self, studying for some imaginary Fan Test to be given at a date not yet announced.

After the game, we stayed for a few minutes of the free All American Rejects concert after the game. After she (finally) got to nurse, Little Sister found herself mesmerized by the jumbotron.

I'm hoping it was the lights & music, and that this was not a hint of the kinds of boys she will someday bring home...

And while we're on the topic of corrupting my children, here is a picture of Big Sister and the girls. No, they did not teach her to pose with gang signs. Who did? Who knows. Sometimes her intelligence, verbal ability, and keen powers of observation can have their disadvantages. (Like when she went to church the next morning & told another minister's wife that her daddy made her fall & skin her knee in the parking lot because "he would NOT SLOW DOWN!")

We only stayed for a few songs (since we only knew a few songs by this particular band, anyway) and then started the long trip home. We spent Sunday and part of today trying to recover.

I've made a promise to myself- no more day trips to Atlanta. I like the city a lot, but if I'm going all that way, I'm spending the night. AND going to Ikea. AND getting cheesecake.

Song for Sunday: Just out of reach...

It seems I'm not the only one struggling with the distance between what I'd like to be & what I really am... who God made me to be & the work in progress... I thought this was appropriate.

Reaching
by Carolyn Arends

There’s a time I can recall
Four years old and three feet tall
Trying to touch the stars and the cookie jar
And both were out of reach

And later on in my high school
It seemed to me a little cruel
How the right words to say always seemed to stay
Just out of reach

Well I should not have thought it strange
That growing causes growing pains
‘Cause the more we learn the more we know
We don’t know anything

But still it seems a tragic fate
Living with this quiet ache
The constant strain for what remains
Just out of reach

We are reaching for the future
We are reaching for the past
And no matter what we have we reach for more
We are desperate to discover
What is just beyond our grasp
But maybe that’s what heaven is for

There are times I can’t forget
Dressed up in my Sunday best
Trying not to squirm and to maybe learn
A bit of what the preacher preached
And later lying in the dark
I felt a stirring in my heart
And though I longed to see what could not be seen
I still believed

I guess I shouldn’t think it odd
Until we see the face of God
The yearning deep within us tells us
There’s more to come
So when we taste of the divine
It leaves us hungry every time
For one more taste of what awaits
When heaven’s gates are reached

There’s a time I can recall
Four years old and three feet tall
Trying to touch the stars and the cookie jar
And both were out of reach

"Sweet" babies

This afternoon I ran by camp to check on a few things, and then I stopped by the grocery store. Big Sister was at home, napping resting with Daddy on his day off.

Little Sister, however, had already taken a four hour nap in the morning, making up for the horrendous night of sleep we had last night. So I brought her along. Even though it took a lot longer to get anywhere, I enjoyed holding her hand and letting her walk as much as possible. So, when it came time to get in the cart (or buggy for you southerners) she wasn't exactly pleased. She was a good sport until the very end, and even then I found some chocolate bars on sale (the mint three musketeers are $0.39 at Bi-Lo!) for her to hold and inspect. Problem solved.

And when she fussed at being contained in her car seat, the shiny candy bars seemed to work yet again. I drove home with a content toddler crinkling wrappers, positive that I had found a new novelty without any foreseeable problems. I mean, she couldn't possibly open a candy wrapper, right?
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Wrong!



Here is a better view of just how messy this child was:


See the chocolate on her cute little fingers? Her sweet (pun intended) knees?

I'm not sure which is worse- the fact that she wasn't finished yet and cried when I pried the smooshed chocolate massacres out of her chubby little hands, or the fact that I still ate them later! (I had to open the wrappers completely and lick all of the smashed contents... not the prettiest image, huh? I mean, at least she is a cute little kid...)

But enough about that...

The trip to the store was to purchase ingredients for the summer's first batch of homemade strawberry ice cream. Big Sister helped us make it.

And yes, we are mashing the strawberries with a pastry cutter- I apparently do not own a masher...
... but it worked! The ice cream was delicious.

Almost as sweet as my girls.

Mommy (Oxy)Moron

The other day I went to the health food store to get ingredients to make my own insect repellent, because I didn't want to spray icky chemicals all over my kids when we go outside to play. Later, at a nice evening out with some fabulous moms, I joined in a discussion about BPA free bottles and cups, extended breastfeeding, and avoiding chemicals and additives in food. One of my friends has been writing recently about her experiences de-toxing her diet here.

But yesterday I also fed my kids Chikfila. And had a lunch "date" with hubby at Arby's. And I started to think about all of the things in my life that make me feel like one giant contradiction. Here, off of the top of my head, are a few components of my identity crisis:

1. As I just mentioned, I love natural and organic (or at least chemical-free) food for my kids. But Little Sister's favorite snack? Cheetos puffed corn or cheap store-brand, artificially flavored vanilla wafers. Also, Big Sister came back from vacation pretty much addicted to caramel bulls-eye candy. The girls are still using up plain old Johnson's baby shampoo in the bath (baby gift) and then lathering up in organic lotion that I found on clearance- which was a miracle! Shopping organic is EXPENSIVE. I have an internal struggle between "coupon-clipping, convenience food mommy" and "all-natural earth-mama" every time I hit the grocery store.
2. I cloth diaper at home, but the stupid laws in TN say that diapers used in day care facilities must be disposable. I've purchased the "green" kind but they REALLY hurt my grocery budget since I never even thought I'd be paying for diapers at all. So now I am back to clipping huggies coupons for the two days a week I send Little Sis to school.
3. When I am in the car alone (wonderful, though rare, occasions that they are) I listen to NPR. I love Fresh Air, Morning Edition, Prairie Home Companion, all of it. I'd like to think that I'm rather discriminating when it comes to media. Of course, I also watch(ed) Jon & Kate Plus 8 and a few episodes of The Real Housewives of New York... and sometimes I like to see what craziness they have on MTV these days... I can't believe I just admitted that.
4. I love organization and making lists. However, I am often so particular about how I'd like for things to be organized that I end up leaving them instead in organized chaos, waiting for the right opportunity to get my life together. ha.
   
5. I adore the outdoors- parks, picnics, being anywhere near the water, etc. But there are many days when my girls and I don't even go into our yard because putting on sunscreen and bug spray ...and finding shoes (seriously)... and hauling out something on which Little Sister can sit... and dragging out Big Sister's trike are all just too much to tackle (not to mention that as soon as we get out there someone needs to go to the bathroom or starts complaining about the heat).
   
6. I have a master's degree in early childhood/elementary education, yet many days I feel like I am completely winging this whole motherhood thing. I have lots of resources and information, but it doesn't necessarily mean I understand why my child has meltdowns any more than I understand why the flaming truck can't go over 40 without posing serious risk to the transmission. Oh... that reminds me...
7. I am from the Midwest, dream of living in the Northeast, and feel at home in the West. But the longer I live in the South, the more I get used to it; I've started to feel at home. And some things make me feel downright redneck! (see how I got there? I was writing about the flaming truck. the broken flaming truck, at that...)
8. I love animals. But some days I actually contemplate not looking for that darned darling dog when she jumps the fence.
9. I like to think that I am not very materialistic; I'm not one to care a whole lot about labels or expensive shoes, bags, etc. We don't buy a lot of new things for ourselves, at least, it doesn't seem like we do... but some days I look around and wonder where on earth all of this STUFF came from?!
10. I like staying at home with my children. I am blessed to be financially able to do so, even if it makes things a little tight. But some days, like when all of the stores start running specials on school supplies or when I get a Really Good Stuff catalog in the mail, I miss teaching. And other days, I like to dream about what I want to be when I grow up... And on the flip side- some days I feel guilty because I'm "wasting" potential and years of education staying home all day... what's a mommy to do?

Ten things, just off of the top of my head, that make me feel like I am living two different lives. Like I am confused (at best) or a giant hypocrite (at worst). That list doesn't even begin to cover how I feel when it comes to politics or religion (I'm too "liberal" for many Christians I know and too Christian for most real liberals I know) or my other parenting/wife insecurities (just the other day I was worried about finding a balance between raising an obedient child verses an independent, responsible free spirit... I pretty much came to the conclusion that, even though she is not quite four, I've already ruined Big Sister's chances at a normal life.) Is it any wonder that moms (and people in general) are so stressed out? In just a few minutes, I've listed several major areas in my own life where there is great tension between two extremes on any given day. And I can't be alone in this, can I?

Maybe this list just points out the discrepancies between expectations and reality, or perhaps between good intentions and follow-through. Maybe it shows what I want to believe about myself when I don't really want to look too hard at the truth. Or perhaps it just means that I think too much and am slightly schizophrenic. I honestly think it is a combination of all of these. But I think it also just serves as one more reminder of my humanity and my great need of a Savior.

I feel like the apostle Paul when he wrote about what he does in contrast to what he wants to do. I want to be a great mom, a fabulous homemaker, an attractive & interesting wife, a good steward of the earth, an educated citizen of the world, a fun friend, and most importantly, a faithful follower of Christ. But some days, I'm more like a lump (or grump) in pajama pants, wasting precious time. And that is a hard pill to swallow.

The bottom line is this: I can't perfectly achieve anything on my list, but Christ can give me strength to do anything He asks. I may not always know what to do with my time, but walking with Him will help me know what's important best. I don't always understand or like who I am, but the One who made me knows every hair on my head, every thought I entertain, and loves me. Whether I'm playing the perfect earth-mama or buying pop-tarts and fruit-by-the-foot, God loves me.

God loves you.

If that's not the best motivation for trying to be the best, yet forgiving the worst, I don't know what is...

Playing in the fountain

We had lots of fun at the park yesterday!

Okay, maybe just Big Sis & Shepherd at first...

...but Little Sis watched...

...and Shepherd encouraged...

...and soon Little Sister was having fun too.

But not as much fun as Shepherd!!!

Not the beach, but...

... beautiful.

This is the view from our front porch of the mountains covered in fog. The picture doesn't do it justice, but I thought I'd try.

In honor of a certain wizard, and a certain woman...

In honor of the movie that opens tonight, based on what I think might be the best fictional series EVER, I wanted to post a note I wrote on Facebook almost two years ago, after I all but devoured The Deathly Hallows in just a few days. I should warn you, I was pretty fired up...

So, I'm pretty sick of the people who think they have authority to go about declaring which modern cultural phenomenons come directly from Satan... you know, the people who write off Tolkien because there are wizards involved. ...who won't concede that Bono is following Christ when he seeks medicine, food and debt relief for Africa based on the fact that he is a secular pop star. Who say Mother Teresa might not be a Christian because she was a Catholic (have you ever read ANYTHING she wrote? There is NOT a question). I especially cringe when people think you can't be a Christian and a Democrat, because I'm SURE I'm both.

And finally, I'm DEFINITELY over the people who are anti-Harry Potter. You know, the chick in Jesus camp who says that if we were in Old Testament times, Potter would be "PUT TO DEATH" for being a "warlock." That kind of thing... #1- we AREN'T in OT times, my friend. Jesus came to fulfill the law and give us a new covenant, and, more importantly, #2- HELLO! IT'S FICTION! You can't put someone to death when they aren't alive at all. (added by 2009 Emily: I wanted to clarify, I understand the nature of the concerns. One person on an alarmist website put it this way, "The whole purpose of these books is to desensitize readers and introduce them to the occult." but after reading every single word of the series TWICE, I can honestly say that the books speak more about humanity- its flaws and redemption, its cowardice and courage, its loss and love- than about the occult.)

Here's the best (and also saddest) part- Rowling is a believer. Best because her work, especially at the end, shows a marvelous picture of Christ's love and sacrifice for us. Best because she is a person, a Christian, who has made a HUGE impact on the world. Saddest because she has been under attack for years by the very people who should have encouraged her in her journey. Here is a link to an article about this in the Dallas Morning News. I'm sure there are some people who will still miss the point, but I'm pretty sure they're missing the BIG picture anyway. Jesus loves us and he wants everyone to know that. If reading an epic piece of literature, written by someone who says she follows Him, helps someone better grasp how BIG His love is, then I'm pretty sure that makes God smile. Condemnation, isolation and division- I think He's clear about how He feels about that too...

Thanks, Jo, for everything.

That kind of Monday...

Big Sister is upstairs, hopefully asleep after throwing the biggest fit since... well... a few weeks ago. Little Sister is in her high chair, covered in cream cheese and many little spat-out blueberry skins. Which explains this:
Sophie has taken it upon herself to remind me (as if I could forget) the impressive amount of mischief she can cram into one day, and Al is determined to bark at her for every example of said mischief. There are unpacked bags taunting me from every room in the house, and laundry to be done, and mail to sort, and bills to pay. And to top it off, a friend called to say she was heading to the park- just the escape I need- but my phone has succumbed to the white screen of death (google it, it's a terminal illness for Razrs) and I couldn't return her call or even retrieve her number to say "Yes! We're on our way!" or even "Nope, my little monsters darlings and I apparently need to recover for one more day... *deep breath

Yep... it's that kind of Monday. The kind that mockingly reminds you ALL DAY LONG that you are back from vacation and back to reality.

A few minutes ago I was feeling really defeated. The girls, especially Big Sister, are having a rough time readjusting to our daily schedule, to returning to work & school, to not having constant playmates in Nana, Papa, and anyone else under their admittedly enchanting spell. The progress we made extinguishing whining, fit throwing and other Veruca Salt type behavior has all but vanished. We are back home and back at the beginning.

But now, as I listen to the monitor and realize that she is sleeping peacefully, as I find the humor in the cream-cheese encrusted dog, things are looking up. A little.

I'm blessed enough to have two healthy girls completely capable of making all kinds of messes and raising all kinds of... well, you know. I've got a husband who will (hopefully, hint hint) give me a break this afternoon. I've got a moment of peace right now in which to catch my breath and think- a luxury in itself! And I am daring to complain about the hardships of returning from vacation. at the beach. While countless others may never have that "burden." I'm ashamed. I'm ridiculous. I'm human.

And I'm so thankful for God's patience with my selfishness and my warped perspective. For His grace when I fail. For His mercies, which are new (and newly needed) every morning.

It's that kind of Monday...

Song for Sunday: My Soul Wells Up...

Hallelujah
written by Chris Rice
(an excerpt)

A purple sky to close the day
I wade the surf where dolphins play
The taste of salt, the dance of waves
And my soul wells up with hallelujahs

A lightening flash, my pounding heart
A breeching whale, a shooting star
Give testimony that You are
And my soul wells up with hallelujahs

Oh praise Him all His mighty works
There is no language where you can't be heard
Your song goes out to all the earth
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah

We're home!

Well, we did it. We made it home. My wonderful hubby drove the whole way, and the girls traveled really well. All in all, it was a good trip.

But I miss the beach.

So here are a few more pictures. These are some hubby & I took for the possibility of editing and framing for our work-in-progress bathrooms upstairs. Let me know what you think.





Oh yeah- and Big Sister made me take this one for you, Zac & Callen. He was having a little snack right under our back deck.


Enough of that. I've got some unpacking to do...

Why indeed?

"Papa," she asked, "why does the sky have a scratch in it?"

"So very tired"

Poor Big Sister.

Before we left for the beach, she had not been feeling herself. And Little Sister's night waking due to teething had started to take a toll on us all.

Then we woke up (as she puts it) "really really early so it's still the middle of the night and the sun isn't awake yet" for the drive to the coast.

And since we've been here, bedtimes have been later, naps have been (for the most part) absent, and mornings have been earlier (it's just too exciting to sleep in!). Combine that with the salty air and the (LOTS of) extra activity, and we've got one exhausted kid.

Yesterday, she reached her limit. After lunch she started to lose her ability to complete simple tasks like putting on her flip flops or standing still for sunscreen. By the time we got down to the beach, she was very whiny and couldn't decide what she wanted to do. Stand in the water? No. Build a castle? Not really. Look for shells and sharks' teeth? Not right now.


She was breaking our biggest beach rule, one that we borrowed from a sign in the house we are renting:

Finally, she told me what was wrong. "I'm just so very tired." And then, my three-year-old, who hasn't willingly napped in over a year, laid down on the beach and instantly fell asleep. Then she came back to our place and went to bed, sleeping straight through from 6:30 until 7 this morning.

Today she is sweet and rested, her eyes a little less sleepy and a little more alert. She is standing on a chair in the kitchen, helping her nana make dessert for tonight (banana pudding). The hours of beach relaxation therapy seem to have done wonders.

Yeah. Poor Big Sister...