Priorities

How many times have I been tempted to stay home from an event because I discovered a pimple on my chin, or a cowlick in my hair, or my skirt fits way tighter than it did last time I wore it?
How many times have I wished I could read my own exciting mystery novel instead of reading the "Clifford" or "Mickey Mouse" book to my three-year-old like he's asked?
How many times have I made excuses for not having people over simply because my house isn't spic-n-span clean?

How much have I missed out on because my priorities are upside-down?

I would rather not go out looking less than my best; I can easily get my son interested in a cartoon so I don't have to read to him; I can convince myself that people don't really care to come over to my house anyway. But that's wrong. All of it.
It's.
Not.
About.
Me.
What a revelation!

If I'm invited somewhere, the invitation doesn't usually say, "RSVP if having a bad hair day!" Church, my kids' school functions, my husband's business events, my friends' afternoon lunch...making an effort to go to these things has nothing to do with ME looking GOOD! It has to do with me showing up and supporting my loved ones with all my soul. That's what they care about and need. Who knows? Maybe it's a blessing for them to see me all "casual" and "real". Maybe that will help lessen the stress of their own insecurities. Maybe my kids will get the message that they're more important to me than what any of those "super-moms" think. Maybe my husband would rather have his overweight and frizzy-haired best friend with him than go to these dinners alone!

How long does it take to read a book to my child? Good grief. I could read him five books in the time it takes to try and find something to distract him from wanting me to read to him! He doesn't care if my voice doesn't have dramatic inflection. He doesn't care if I'm no good at pronouncing Dora's Spanish. He wants me. He wants me to show him that I'm interested in what he's interested in because I'm interested in him.

I don't want to have people over to my house so I can show off my shiny floor or cabinet full of clean dishes. Why would that be interesting? I want to have people over to fellowship and encourage one another. What in the world does that have to do with whether or not I had time to vacuum? There's a story about that somewhere...um...Martha...Mary...something...

I'll tell you what got me to thinking about all this. The other morning, after spending the entire night rocking and bouncing my sweet son through a rough ear-infected night, I discovered I was almost out of Children's Tylenol. I have sweet friends who would've been happy to run to the store for me...but my phone was broken. Phoenix was crying and needed more medicine, pronto! Without a second thought, I loaded the boys into the car and, with Phoenix moaning in the backseat, drove to Walgreen's. I was standing in the medicine aisle reading labels when I noticed a woman standing next to me. She had gorgeous hair, was crisply dressed, and smelled so fresh and beautiful.

I smiled at her and she smiled at me. I looked down at myself. I was still in the sweat pants and sweatshirt I'd had on since the day before. I hadn't run a comb through my hair; I hadn't brushed my teeth; I hadn't even looked in a mirror. Folks, I realized in that split second that I wasn't even wearing a bra. Good grief. She put her hand on my arm and said, "Isn't it wonderful to have this store so nearby when we need to rush and get medicine?" She understood. But even if she hadn't, I wouldn't have regretted my appearance.

I had only wanted to get medicine for Phoenix as quickly as possible. No time for looking good (or smelling good, for that matter) or wondering what anyone must think.

I discovered that putting others before my self-absorption didn't change the world around me. The walls didn't come tumbling down when I left the house in such a rough state. No one had a wreck after seeing me walk into the store. No one cared. The world wasn't depending on the roots of my hair to match the color of the split-ends.

I'm not saying I've given up on hygiene or don't still want to clean my house, etc...I'm just saying that, when having to choose between going to my daughter's honor roll assembly or staying home to hide my fat, I need to go to the assembly. When faced with the opportunity to invite someone over to my house, I need to just open the door without worrying that there's still laundry to be folded all over the couch. When my child asks for my time and attention, I need to thank God that my child even wants anything to do with me.

I'm just rambling. For those of you who stuck with this entire post, bless your heart. I just needed to give myself a good talkin'-to.

Sick and Tired

How many of you know what it's like to have a sick little one at home? I mean, there are different levels of sick, right?


Runny Nose:

If it's a Level One Runny Nose, you don't worry about it. You just grab a tissue (or the corner of a T-Shirt) and blot here and there. For a Level Two Runny Nose, you need a box of Kleenex handy, but there's still no big worry. For the dreaded Level Three Runny Nose, you throw out the box of tissue and get a cloth handkerchief (soft as possible, please) and dab every ten to fifteen minutes. You cut out the dairy. You start rummaging through your cabinet for the Mucinex and wonder if your mom was right about white grape juice being a natural antihistamine. Then, you lay awake and listen to breathing...wondering if it'll turn into a cough.


Cough:

If it's a Level One Cough, you don't really worry about it. I mean, a little drainage, a little tickle in the throat...we've all had that. Sinus, allergies...no big deal. If it's a Level Two Cough, you dig out the Mucinex and prop them up a little at night to avoid ear infection. Level Three Cough is that deep rattle that makes you want to check their drawers for cigarettes. You start looking for the heavy-artillery decongestant. You fear that it will turn into the wickedly painful earache.


Earache:

There is no Level One or Two Earache. Any ear pain is an automatic Level Three. It means drops, sitting up all night long, humming until your throat is raspy, making strange but hopefully soothing sounds like "shh-shh-shh-shh" and "da-de-da-de-da-de-da". You watch cartoons at 2 a.m.; you allow them to sleep next to you in bed; you are afraid to stop rubbing their back after you know they're finally asleep for fear they might wake up again. You wait a good 48 hours and then call the doctor. You know they're not going to do anything you haven't already done; but sitting in a waiting room and then letting a nurse handle the kid for a few minutes may the only break you get until this has passed. If it passes. If it doesn't get worse.


Worse:

Fever...vomit...glassy-eyes...fussy-fussy-fussy.


It's our pleasure as mommies to hold, cuddle, sing "I know, I know, I know" to our sweeties. We never think twice about it. They're sick and we're tired.....but we're NEVER sick and tired of nursing our babes. Never. Isn't that a miracle? The rest of world may get on our ever-lovin' nerves, but we never hesitate to wrap our babies in our arms and love them. I consider it an honor that my kids say, "Mama, please feel me better."

Moving Away...

I am terrible at keeping in touch. I don't like talking on the phone. I don't take time to write letters. I do email but it's sporadic. If not for FaceBook, I probably wouldn't share and converse at all. I have a friend that is the exact same way. We live in two different states and see each other very rarely. When we do see each other, it's like we've been together always. When we're apart we don't think to touch base with each other. She knows I love her. I know she loves me. We know we'll see each other later and talk and be best friends for that five minutes. That's what kind of friend I am.

I'm the same with most of my family as well. I pray for them. I think about them. I just rarely reach out to them. My daily life is consumed with the what's-right-in-front-of-me stuff and it takes conscious effort to actually make contact with them. I always enjoy talking with them. It's not a dread. My family is a source of joy for me and there's not one single relative I'd not die for. When I'm talking with one of them, it's like we've always lived right next to each other and we have nothing to do all day but visit. But, when we're apart, I don't think to reach out to them. They know I love them. I know they love me. We know we will see each other soon and that love will be shown with hugs and visits.

When someone I do live close to moves away...or I move away from them...I know I will miss them, but I also know myself. I know I won't call or write. I am honest with them about this and I say, "You just need to know that I love you. I am always here. We'll see each other again some day!" I think of them and miss them, but I'm not sad because when we're together again, it's so much fun to catch each other up on our lives!

So. Why is it, when someone I love dies, I grieve and grieve and grieve and wish they were here? They've simply moved away. I didn't call or write when they were here. They know I love them. I know they love me. We know we'll see each other again and talk and visit and catch each other up. Why is it harder? They are not gone forever. They're in a different place, but with the promise of reconnection. Grieving feels like I've lost them forever. A certain amount of grief is healthy; but continual pining is an insult to my faith in eternity. If I truly believe in the afterlife, why would I go on and on about missing them?

I'll see them again. And we'll have so much time to visit. No more grief. Just togetherness.

A Minute in the Life of My Mind...

Here's an example of what goes on in my head most of the time...

I'm hungry. I'm fat. Where's that sock? How can socks go missing? Do they change colors slightly so they look like they don't match? I'm hungry. I'm so tired. I wonder how much a maid would cost. Do we need milk? Hope Maggie's having a good day at school. Lord, be with Maggie. Oh, why do I have mirrors in this house? I'm so fat. I need to get my hair redone soon. The boys' room is a disaster. Do we have leftover pizza? Lord, be with Mark at work. Need to go to Wal-Mart. Grocery money? Hmmm...check with Mark on cash situation. What are the kids going to be for Halloween? Should call Mom. Lord, be with Mom. I need to get organized. Wonder what it would be like to have one eye and two noses. Hmm. Oh, remember that girl with the extra finger? Gross. Probably a nice girl. Lord, please make me un-stupid. How can I bribe the kids to do their chores? What should I make for supper? Did I already iron Mark's shirts? What is that smell? Goodness! Lord, be with Luke's tummy! I'm so fat. How can I be 36 and still have zits? Want to cross-stitch....in a minute. First...where's that sock? Why am I always missing a sock? What will supper be? Need to go to Wal-Mart. Is that a Library book? Hmmm. Wonder when it was due. Wish "Vampire Diaries" would come on. Why are vampires sexy? Is it the fangs? The brooding unavailability? Not the blood. Well...maybe the blood. Lord, I'm sorry I'm a freak. Mark's teeth have a hidden fang-like quality. That's nice. His nose is nice too. Lord, thanks for making Mark hot. That guy on "Vampire Diaries" is hot too. But his eyes are weird. Can you be hot with weird eyes? Lord, thanks for making Mark think I'm hot. Can you be hot and fat? That's strange. I guess hotness isn't perfection. What in the world am I going to make for supper? Again with that smell! Is it food in someone's room? What's that white thing over there? Oh! The sock!! Lord, thanks for the missing sock.

And, that's about 60 seconds of my brain-life. For anyone out there may have wondered.

Confessions of a Middle-Aged Housewife

I just want to spill...

Sometimes, instead of folding the mountain of laundry that just keeps getting bigger, I stuff it into trash bags and then stuff the trash bags in closets or under beds until I am no longer overwhelmed and can get to them, one bag at a time.

Sometimes, I don't want to listen to my kids read to me or talk to me or recap their favorite television shows. On those occasions, I "listen" by looking at them, smiling, and completely tuning them out. However, there are times when I can't even do that so I just tell them to stop talking.

Sometimes, I wish I was sick with a raging fever and disgusting vomit just so I have an excuse to go to bed undisturbed for a few days.

Sometimes, I wake up on Sunday morning and wish I didn't have to go to church. I want to sleep late and have no obligations just one day in the week!

Sometimes, I buy a few luxury food-items at the grocery store that I love and then hide them from the rest of the family so I can have them all to myself. If anyone sees me eating one of these treats and they want a bite, I'm not even nice about saying, "Nope. This is Mommy's."

Sometimes, I pretend to be going to the bathroom so I can have an excuse to be in a room alone with the door locked for five consecutive minutes. Sometimes, I even take one of those luxury treats in there with me. And a book. And sometimes also a pillow.

Sometimes, I want a nap so bad that I tell the seven year old to watch the four and three year olds while I lay down for awhile.

Sometimes, I tell people I will pray for them and then totally forget until days later. And sometimes, even then, I put it on the 'back burner'.

Sometimes, I cry for no reason. Sometimes, I laugh for no reason. Sometimes, I wish everyone would leave me alone. Sometimes, I wish my husband would pay more attention to me. Sometimes, I wish I had more money.

Sometimes, I'm actually content.

Aaaaah. I feel better!

Freedom in Things Unseen

When I started blogging, I actually considered my audience. I would picture what some of my friends would say or do in response to what I'd written. I'd try to predict some of my family's comments. After awhile I realized that no one read my blog. The comments were very few and most of the time there were no comments at all. So, in time, I forgot there was an audience at all.

I just wrote to write. I'd write about my illness...bloating, gas, no sex-drive. Who cares? No one's gonna read it anyway! I wrote about my frustration as a mom... just needing a break from the whiny little critters every once in awhile!!! I wrote about my past... boo-hoo, I was made fun of, laughed at, called names. Not like anyone FROM my past was going to read it anyway, right?

I would write about my Spiritual struggles. Why not? Does anyone from church even have my blog site address? Nah. I wrote about having a nervous breakdown and chopping off my hair; I even posted pictures! Woo-Hoo! I was just going crazy with the freedom of writing whatever I wanted with no worries!

And then it started happening. In Bible class, "Kim, I read your blog last night. Really good." Really good? Oh, crud. What did I write last night? Did I mention how I sometimes have to FORCE myself to read my Bible? AAAH! Now she knows!

At the grocery store, "Hey, Girl! Checked out your blog...interesting!" Interesting? In a good way? Oh, no...did I write about how annoyed I get with people...including her?! OH, NO!!!!

At Maggie's school, "Kim, your blog is pretty gutsy. Wow." Yeah, I knew I'd hear about it from HER. Well, I didn't think I actually posted that one but...there it is.

At Mark's office, "Kim, I keep up with your blog. What are you going to write today?" Today? Well, I won't be writing about how I wish Mark's job didn't take him out of town so much!! YIKES!!

So...in response to this realization...this revelation...people actually read my blog...what did I do? DELETE!! DELETE!! DELETE!!

I used to whine that no one commented on my posts. Whaaaaa! I must not be a good writer. Boohooo! Then I went out on planet-stupid with my posts. Now, I'm back in the "consider your audience" stage.

And I love it. :) Thanks for reading. Don't stop. I may forget you're there again and talk about that person at the doctor's office who smells like licorice an pizza. Or about how I was secretly glad when our dog died because I was too tired to take care of her anymore. Or how sometimes, I just lay on the couch all day wondering what it would be like to be one of those 600 pound shut-ins who get waited on hand-and-fat-foot.

You just never know...

The Differences

Why is it so hard to keep up with a blog? I always promise I'll stay faithful to writing...and then I don't. So, I promise again...and then I don't. ARGH!

Part of it is the fact that I don't feel like I have a lot to say. Shocking, right? But it's true. Think about it. My days are so alike. I could write what I did one day; then for the next day, just copy and paste from the day before. At least, that's what I imagine. Actually, there are little differences here and there...and I'm determined to log those differences and find meaning in them!

Today...well, I argued with Maggie about the importance of brushing her hair...again. I know, I know, she just brushed it yesterday! I'm so mean for making this an everyday chore! What else....I let the boys dress themselves even though I knew we'd be out in public later. It's okay to wear your clothes backwards...at least they're decent!

Oh, here's something different! Mark came home for lunch today. That almost never happens. Although I didn't clue in on this being a major moment for our day, I think it was. If I'd been alone at lunch today, I would've been tempted to not eat. Mark's been encouraging me to eat three whole meals a day but it's hard to do when I'm so tired all the time. However, because he came home, I ate. And because I ate, I had a burst of energy in the afternoon just when I needed it.

Another difference was a visit from a dear friend. Sharon came over today and brought treasures for all of us. She's so thoughtful. For the children, she brought colors (is there anything better than brand new crayons?!) and sticker books. For us, she brought three different flavors of truffles....yum!! She pampers me. A visit from her is a balm for the bored and weary soul.

I saw another sweet friend when picking Maggie up from school. We haven't seen each other in ages and just to hug her and see her smile was worth the effort of maneuvering through after-school traffic.

So, when someone asks me what I did today, I think I'll clue in on the differences instead of the "oh, the same old thing" attitude. Yes, I got up, started the laundry, started the dishwasher, folded clothes, caught up on email, played on facebook, went to the Chiropractor, picked Maggie up from school, helped her with her homework, bathed the kids, helped them with their chores, made supper and then crashed in the living room with the remaining laundry needing to be folded. Just like every other day.

Oh. But there was one more difference. I recommitted to being faithful to my blog. And I really will this time!

Un-American

Recently I realized I was getting just a little too comfortable in my own skin. Uh-Oh! This is certainly un-American! As soon as I was on to myself, I started hating my skin, dieting, using a new shampoo, and paying attention to the airbrushed perfection on television. Goodness! I almost escaped fully content!! But, whew!, I'm back to being a normal woman...obsessed with looking like someone else...never thin enough...never smooth enough...always needing to do better!
That was a close one!!

Fat Girl Walking

I'm so fat. I decided this evening to go for a walk. I don't often have energy, but I thought I might make the block at least. I put on my shoes and hit the road. All the neighbors' dogs barked as I walked past their yards alerting their masters to something outside. Curtains were moved and blinds adjusted as people thought to themselves, "Oh, it's just that fat girl walking."

There were actually two fat girls walking but they could only see one. Mental Fat Girl was inside Physical Fat Girl. Mental Fat Girl was always there; even when Physical Fat Girl wasn't. I only just realized this on this particular walk. I knew other Physical Fat Girls...but they weren't all accompanied by Mental Fat Girl. They could believe in their inner beauty and they shone because of it. I also knew Mental Fat Girls whose bodies I'd give a thigh for. They obsessed about every ounce and always beat themselves up. So how did I come to be both girls at once?

As I walked the block, I took notice of the surroundings and how they affected me. There was the vehicle behind me, driving slow and waiting for a good place for either me to move over or him to drive around me. He was thinking, "I could move around you NOW if you weren't such a fatty!" Wait. That was Mental Fat Girl talking. Maybe he was thinking, "Good for you, Girl. I'm fine. Walk on!" I picked up my step. It was nice to think of him being an encouragement.

I met the elderly ladies who walk their little dogs every evening. In the past, on those rare occasions I'd walked before, I'd always look forward to running into them. They always wanted to visit and it was a great excuse to stop and rest. But wait. That's Physical Fat Girl talking. You don't get to rest, Fatso! I told the ladies I absolutely couldn't stop until I was at least three sizes smaller. They all smiled and pumped their fists and gave me a lot "that a girl" and "you can do it"! Wow! Discipline was good. I picked up my step.

I passed the "good ole boy" house. Always three or four guys in cowboy hats and jeans were standing by their pick-up trucks talking. They stopped talking as I approached. They simply stared quietly and waited until I was all the way to the corner to resume talking. They were thinking, "Good grief! She's a COW!" Wait. That's Mental Fat Girl again! No! It took me a bit to think of an alternative reason for their silence but then it hit me. They were simply giving me respect. They were thinking, "Good for you. Way to cowgirl up and take on your problems!" Yeah! I picked up my step.

I was nearing my house at this point. I'd gone the whole block. Three times around is a mile. I rarely did two times around. Usually, Fat Girls both wanted to waddle inside and be comforted by a husband who loves every inch of me unconditionally, by kids who see me as a hero, by clothes that stretch forgivingly. But, I decided it would be a lot easier to walk with one less girl. I spent the next round saying goodbye to Mental Fat Girl. I picked up my step.

As I neared my house again, I didn't even slow down. Mental Fat Girl was gone and Physical Fat Girl's days were numbered!

Fat Girl walked a mile this evening.

Fiction... PREFACE

Preface

She heard the noise as if it was right next to her. A breath, more a gasp than a simple intake of air. As she turned to find its origin, her hair, long and tangled with the leaves and brush she’d fallen in just minutes ago, swung around and encased her neck. She saw nothing but the woods around her. Never one to doubt her senses, Abby turned and ran even faster, if that was possible. As always, logic warred with the supernatural gift inside her mind and she wondered again if her senses were of the here and now or of some time and place in the future…the past? Were they even her senses or perhaps someone else’s, channeling in need of help. Logic said this was most likely the case. Abby had no enemies that she was aware of. No one even knew of her ability, her gift, her curse. No one besides those who had come and gone and received help from this strange and mystical girl.

This must still be part of the dream, she thought. Having awakened in the forest in the middle of the night, mid-run, she had not been startled. She was used to this type of thing and instantly began observing everything around her, not knowing what would end up being of any importance. The grass was wet, though she knew it hadn’t rained here in over three months. There was no light, no moon that she could see. Cloudy? Rainy? Future? Past? Not present. That was certain. This was part of the message. Her heart quickened surprisingly as she heard the gasp again. And, again, she whirled around to face nothing but trees and wet leaves. She took this moment to note that she was wearing, not her favored flannel pajamas, but a white satin nightgown that reached the forest floor and moved with a breeze around her ankles.
She assessed her senses, or rather the senses of whoever was sending her this vision. Fear. This woman was petrified. She was beyond caring about her indecency or her bare feet. She only wanted to run. It was hard for Abby to fight the other girl’s instincts. Her legs were begging her to move and move quickly. But she stood her ground, literally. She took in the smells around her and noticed that there was a hint of cologne in the air. This woman did not wear cologne, she knew it immediately. No, this was the scent of her pursuer. Was this a romantic tryst gone wrong? Why else would a girl be in the woods in the middle of the night wearing a nightgown and with the scent of men's cologne in the air.

Unless it was an attempted escape from something much more sinister than a simple lover’s meeting in the woods. The fear. The fear is what tipped Abby off to the sinister thoughts. Something had gone very wrong for this girl and she was now reaching out to Abby for help. “I’m trying,” Abby whispered.

Immediately, Abby’s eyes opened and she was in her own bed, warm, dry, and wearing her familiar pajamas. “That’s all I have to go on?” Abby sighed. Well, she’d had less. Sometimes a troubled soul was cautious in revealing things and Abby guessed that fear was the main motivator for her recent messenger. Abby sat up and, out of habit, looked at the clock. It was 5:44, one minute before her alarm would sound. Sometimes, the minute of her arrival back into consciousness meant something and she always made a mental note of it.

The Battle

The last two posts were about the "Stay-at-Home-Mom" and the "Working Mom". This one is very simple. It's about being a mom. Whether you work outside the home or not, you do your best for your children. Moms are always thinking about their children, no matter where they are at any given moment in the day. The goal of a mother is to prepare her children for all they may encounter.

Some moms smother their children. This isn't the healthiest treatment, but I get it. They fear for them. They ache at the thought of their children hurting. But, motherhood is a battle and we must arm ourselves against that temptation to hold on too tight. We must let our children fall and learn how to pick themselves back up.

Some moms ignore their children. This isn't the healthiest treatment, but I get it. They want their kids to be independent, resilient, and self-sufficient. We can't give into this temptation either. Loving our children takes time and patience and me MUST invest both. Remaining aloof will only teach our children how NOT to trust...and they will not know how to be loved.

Some moms let their kids do whatever they want anytime they want. Again, I get it. We want our kids to be happy and we hate causing them heartache. However, this is another no-no. Kids respond to boundaries and will learn to discern ONLY if we've taught them discipline. Otherwise, they will continue to run amok in adulthood and we will have only ourselves to blame for it.

One thing we moms will do without a second thought...fight for our children. We will go to battle and WIN for the safety of our children and we will make no excuses for it. Moms are in battle daily. We must never give in. We must continue to stay the course!

The Field

My last post was about the wonders of the "Stay-At-Home-Mom". Not this one. Let's talk about those "Working-Moms"! Moms who work outside the home get a bad wrap. They are given superior looks by moms who do not work. They are assumed absent by their kids' teachers. They are labeled in such a fashion as to say, "you don't think enough of your family to stay at home and give your kids the attention they need!"

Good grief. Let's just take a close look at what these moms do. They get up extra early so they can get their kids ready for school and out the door. They work hard all day long in an environment created for men and push thoughts like, "Does my daughter still have that tummy ache? Is she nervous about her test? Did my son take that rock to school after I told him not to? What in the world am I going to make for supper?", out of their minds in order to prove to their boss they are worthy of that paycheck. They NEED that paycheck in order to pay for the kids' soccer, girlscouts, designer backpacks, fieldtrips, camp, piano lessons, etc... She's working FOR her kids.

Then, she must come home. She is tired and often frustrated... but she must muster the energy to listen to all the drama of her daughter's day, force her kids to stay on task with their homework, make supper, straighten the house, make sure all the necessities are washed, and have energy for her husband as well.

The "working mom" deserves a medal. She is in the field...she is dodging landmines, packing ammo, and praying every minute that her kids are okay. She is doing it BECAUSE she loves her children. Next time you want to judge a woman for dropping her sweeties off at the daycare, try mentally spending a day in her high-heeled shoes. You'll need a foot massage by bedtime!

Punch that clock, "Working Moms". Don't give up. Hug your babies and sing to them in their sleep...they know you love them and they will thank you for the sacrifices you've made for them!!

The Trenches

Why does a person have to declare themselves one thing or another? "What do you do for a living?" Well, if you mean, 'how do I earn money?', I don't. My husband does. Uh-oh. I can see the Respect Meter just dropped a point. But, you recover quickly and ask another question out of social correctness; "Oh. A stay-at-home-mom! How wonderful! Do you enjoy it?" Are you kidding me? I'm supposed to say yes. Right? If I say no, it implies that I don't like my kids or my life...that I'm bitter and resent my children for taking away my dreams...bla bla bla.

Well, let's see. At any given moment, I may be cleaning poop off the floor; scraping peanut butter out of the carpet; breaking up a fight; pouring juice; wiping a bottom; cleaning clutter; washing clothes; ridding the house of some mystery-smell; answering questions such as, "but, why can't I have a baby sister?", "why can't we have hot dogs for breakfast?" "why did YOU get to have a piece of chocolate?"; always having company in the bathroom; finding all lost toys; entertaining a crowd while showering; and having to lock myself in the closet to enjoy a two-minute phone conversation. Do I enjoy it?

And let's just discuss this charming phrase "stay-at-home-mom". Who stays at home? Are you a stay-at-the-office-employee? Probably. You probably sit at your desk until time to come home. Let me explain something about the "stay-at-home-mom". We don't. Time to go to school! Time to go buy groceries! Time to go to the library! Time for your doctor's appointment! Time to take you to your friend's house! Time for ball practice! Time for the park! Time to pick up your sister from school! Time for this! Time for that! WHEN DO I STAY HOME?! Do I enjoy it?

And that's the day time. Here's a newsflash...I don't clock out at 5:00. Supper. Homework. Baths. Bedtime stories. Bedtime. Bedtime again. STAY IN BED! Middle-of-the-night adventures...fevers, vomit, nightmares, accidents, tummy-aches, ear infections...Morning time again! Wake up and make breakfast! Do I enjoy it?

Does a soldier enjoy all night in the trenches under heavy fire knowing that any minute may be his last? Probably not. But he believes in what he's fighting for. He sees the big picture and is passionate about results. Me too. This world is big and ominous for little ones. There are obstacles they can't imagine just waiting for them. I see the big picture and I'm passionate about doing all I can to prepare them. Learn these Bible verses so that you are armed! Learn the ABC's so that you are academically prepared! Learn these table manners so that you are socially acceptable! Learn morals! Learn ethics! Learn basics! Learn that you are loved more than life and that this home is ALWAYS yours! UNCONDITIONALLY!!! Do I enjoy it?...Sometimes I don't enjoy the minutes...but I absolutely love the job! It is the greatest honor in the world. There are no promotions in this position...I'm already at the highest possible level.

Be proud of yourselves, Mommies! You're in the trenches and you're doing great!

Blocked

Argh! I want to BLOG!!!!! But, I have writer's block. It's insanely frustrating. The block is often lifted in the middle of the night...but I'm too tired to get up and type. Boo! I thought of a few topics last night but after typing a few paragraphs on each, I deleted them for their own sake. Boring. Inane. Don't believe me? One was about getting my hair done...the other was about needing to be around enablers.

I guess the enabler one is okay, but I couldn't form my thoughts in any coherent fashion. The point of it was more of confession...dirty little secret. I like to be told I'm pretty. If I say, "I am so ugly," I like for there to be someone in the room who will step up and say, "Oh, no you're not! You're beautiful!" If I say, "I'm so fat," there sure better be someone close by who will take the bait and say, "You are NOT fat! Not at ALL!" And the list goes on. I'm a confidence-boosting junkie. I like validation with even the simplest of things...and it doesn't even have to come from someone I know.

There. That was my brilliant topic and moment of truth last night. I don't know why I couldn't express it. What IS writer's block? Is it a literal block in the temporal lobe of the brain? Does anyone know? Is it emotional? Physical? I've heard of writers who require a specific environment to be able to write...is it environmental?...or just mental? It's a mystery to me. I guess that's the case ultimately. If anyone knew, it would be remedied easily.

Relaxation must be an aide in the solution. I have written the most fascinating books, letters, thank you notes, prayers, and blogs in the middle of the night. None of them make it out of my head. Perhaps I should sleep with a mini-recorder and speak into it all of my brilliance throughout the night. No. I fear that listening to it all in the morning would bring my brilliance the dullness it truly possesses. That's it, isn't it? My brilliance lives in my mind (someone, any enabler in the room, feel free to jump up and say, "No! You're brilliant for real!").

Well, I'm sure I will continue to fight the block. In fact, I plan to just use this blog as catharsis until something brilliant really does appear. Get read to glean, people. It's going to be in there somewhere at some point!!