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!