I got my degree on Facebook!

Sorry to hijack Motley Moms to rant a little, but I actually believe this is a topic worthy of a parenting discussion. While most of us reading this did not grow up surfing the Information Super Highway, our kiddos will only know the ease of Google for finding out what they need to know.

In the past few weeks a controversy has erupted on Facebook. Actually, many controversies have exploded on the social networking site, but this one in particular has caught my attention. Have you seen the icky glob the lady down in Miami found in her Capri Sun pouch?

More pics here.

I think we can all agree that, yuck, that is really icky. I wouldn't want to find one of those in my kid's juice box. When the mom who found the mass contacted Kraft, the maker of the juice, they told her they would test it. They did, and they concluded that the mass is mold, and the mold grew because the pouch had a leak. (This is true, by the way--the family confirmed that the pouch was leaking and that is how they found the object.) Kraft offered to reimburse the family for the cost of the box of juice.

Here's where things have taken an interesting turn, though--apparently the appearance of this ugly mass of yuck has turned many people in the Facebook world into biologists. Did you know it was that simple? People whose only contact with mold is with the stuff that grows on strawberries when they sit in the fridge for too long have decided that this could not be mold--it's too icky--it looks more like an eyeball, skin, (insert random body part here)...

Now, with one Google search I was able to find a picture on a blog of a similar glob found in an apple juice box made by an Australian company. There may be some masked villain touring the world's juice factories and depositing masses of flesh he removed from his victims into our children's favorite summer beverage containers, or maybe...it really is a mold that tends to grow in fruit juice.

View site here.

I'm not really bothered by boycotts against products as long as they have merit, and I think social networking sites have given consumers unimaginable power when it comes to being treated fairly. What bothers me is that I have heard several people talking about the glob off-line, and they are sure that indeed it is the missing hand of Osama bin Laden. Let people say what they will, but in this age of information, information tends to spread faster than the speed of light, and before you can say, "Don't take that perfume sample from a stranger at a gas station!" we have a new urban legend on our hands, and in some cases it may actually harm products or companies that supply jobs to our economy and have, in fact, done nothing wrong.

So, as much as I would like to think that my time spent watching Criminal Minds has prepared me to be an FBI profiler (Hey guys at the Bureau--call me if you need a hand!), I can honestly say that it probably hasn't, and on that same note, being a part of the Facebook community (or any other site) has not qualified me to be a scientist or anything else. It is my responsibility to not believe everything I read and to look into things a little before I start a crusade against them. Most of the time, a quick trip to www.snopes.com does the trick. ;)

What's my point and what does it have to do with parenting? Well, I guess my main goal here is to inspire us all to teach our kids how to find the truth no matter how enticing a legend is. Sure, it's more fun to think that the Capri Sun in question came from Hannibal Lecter's jail cell, but really, don't we want our kids to be able to decipher fact from fiction, danger from safety? There's a Facebook community devoted to some new fad where the kids are drinking alcohol WITH THEIR EYEBALLS. I'm sure they think it's perfectly fine to do so. I want our little guy to be able to say, "No, thank you, you're an idiot," when approached with such ridiculous ideas. In short, I want to train our future member of society to be, well, not a moron. Of course, I may need to get a few more Facebook degrees before I can master that completely. ;)

Mixed Metaphors of Motherhood

Lately, situations around our house have left me thinking, "This is the stuff only cockroaches survive." My THIS is motherhood - everyday life - or more specifically our lives. Jon and Kate had one thing right, "It may be a crazy life, but it's our life." We have spent the better part of the last two weeks in meetings at school and at specialists to come up with some plans to help Alex be his best. It is a constant balancing act between picking your battles instead of fighting over every issue, and being tactful and assertive instead of being offensive and demeaning.

Picture me as a street performer at Mallory Square in Key West. Who knows why, but I have decided to spin plates. Oh, how I would love to be in Mallory Square right now!

Plate one - advocating for my child's education. It's a swirly plate representing lunch recess, speech therapy and school lunch. I want Alex to be happy and enjoy life. I truly do not care about how smart he is, but I do expect the school to do what they can to help him do his best. They think I am an overachiever who can't handle the fact that my son might be average. BTW - the THEY is his teachers at our public school.

So add in another plate. I see the shortcomings of his current education yet my husband teaches for the same school district. As my son fake farts in my face, which he learned at school, I can't help but complain all the while I am using their pay to provide a roof over our head!

Plate three - my husband coaches varsity basketball. It is a little known fact, but everyone in the world knows more about basketball than the coach, and they are quite happy to say so. Last Thursday, I was sandwiched between my husband's team (we sit right behind the bench) and some loud angry fans from the other team. Alex was clinging to my lap usually crying because his dad was yelling at the guys, or he was hungry or he wanted to go on a walk. My hands were pressed firmly over hears the WHOLE time. The fans behind us spent most of their time criticizing my husband to the point where I was going to have to confront them. I said a silent prayer asking God to help them be quiet or to give me the courage I needed. Fortunately, I didn't have to say anything, but I am not going to let some stranger put down my son's father in front of him. Ironically, we sit behind the bench because it is the best place to avoid most of the criticism.

Plate four - dishes, cooking, cleaning, paying bills all to be done in the four free hours I have while my son is at school.

Plate five - stress eating. I could really use some comfort food to help me balance all of these other plates, but if I eat enough chocolate to make all of this other stuff right, I will not have any clothes to wear!

Plate six - exercise would really help me deal with some of this stress, but plate four is really tricky and takes a lot of time to balance.

Plate seven - I really just want to have fun with my child. I want to bake cookies and play with toys. I want to teach him to read and blow bubbles in the house. Yet, everyday life creeps in. We get up late and are rushing for school. Before 8:30 on most days I am apologizing to him or he is apologizing to me. He will only be five once, and he now has to ability to remember things! I only get one shot to make this a fun time in his life. Yet, I can't bake cookies everyday. See plate five!

Plate eight - my taxes have not started figuring themselves, so I guess I need to work on that too!

Plate nine - money. I am so lucky to stay at home, but that means money is really tight right now. A quick fix to a lot of our problems would be a little more cash. I could buy more clothes if I ate too much chocolate. I could hire my own speech therapist. I could pay for a personal trainer to help me work off the chocolate, and so on and so on.

Plate ten - my Norton antivirus software has expired and is holding all of my online passwords hostage! I need to pay my bills online but can't remember my log in ID or password. I can buy the new version of Norton, but I am waiting until it goes on sale, see plate nine. Must call bank soon!

I can share this with you because I know all of you are also keeping a handful of plates spinning above your heads too. Some of our plates are different, some are the same. Some of us have very large heavy plates that threaten to crush our families. For you, I am saying extra big prayers that you can keep those plates spinning for as long as it takes. I am thankful that my plates are small and manageable, but I am still tired. I am like a salmon constantly swimming upstream, and I just want to stop and enjoy the swim for a while.

Now, I am trying to learn how to drop some of these plates. On Saturday, I went out for a day alone just to be by myself. I went shopping in Iowa and had to cross a very scary bridge to get there. I had a great day, and it was great to forget about the plates for just a short time.

One More Random Thought

I am sorry for posting on today - not my day but someone else's. I just remembered my one other random thought.

8. Have you seen the ads for American cheese professing how great it is, and that it is a cheese Americans can be proud of? Really, do we collectively as a nation want to be known for American cheese? Sure, our kids probably eat their weight in it each year, but as far as cheese goes, is American the taste and quality that we want to be known for?

Half Full or Half Empty

So many parenting situations can leave us scratching our head wondering if that really did just happen to us and why didn't anyone warn us it could happen. At some point, we must decide do we yet again take the high road and look at all of our wonderful blessings, or do we lay down in a pile of slobber, pooh, dirty clothes and crunched up Froot Loops and give up. Here are some of the situations I have been pondering over coffee this week.

Pooh in the Back-Pack
Last week, my dear, sweet son had an accident at school. There are several down sides to this story. It was his first solid accident at school. His teacher was at a conference, so he had a sub. I am still not exactly sure why or how it happened, but the dirty underwear came home to us with pooh in tow!!! Let me just tell you, it was a BIG accident. After doing some extensive research, I have sadly found that a very few people think it is acceptable to send everything home in accidents like these. After several meetings at the school to discuss the accident from several different angles, I am ready to look at this as the cup is half full, and here is why. Alex refused to let a stranger clean him up. (This fact alone caused most of my meetings.) Alex has never met a stranger, and is very friendly. I often worry about him walking off with the next person that offers him candy. At the end of the week, I was thankful that he does have boundaries.

I'm so Alone
For the last four years, I have spent almost every waking moment (and many sleeping ones too) with my dear son. I have tried to spend enough time with him so that I could send him off to school and not wonder where his childhood went. Now that he is in school, I am alone for five hours every week day. I have so much alone time that I have had really scary thoughts, like maybe I should get a job. I'm going to have to look at this new phase in my life as half full too. Even though I don't yet know what I am going to do with my time, I am lucky to have so many options ahead of me.

Raking Leaves
The weather last week was super nice here; our highs were in the mid 60s. It was sunny and warm, so I spent several days outside raking the leaves from our yard. Our town doesn't have a leaf drop off area, so to get rid of the leaves, we must burn them. We have actually never burnt leaves before, but we found it to be great fun! We made the back end of our driveway the designated burn pile, so all of the leaves needed to be drug, dropped or raked there. My husband is big and strong, so he chose to load the leaves in a box and carry them to the fire. When I was home alone, I was working out a method to move the entire pile like a large snowball. Since we skipped fall last year, I had forgotten a few facts about leaf raking. First, whether you have a cat or even see a cat, you will at some point find cat pooh in your leaves. You will usually find it by stepping in it. I found mine while I was in the middle of my giant pile. After some emotional exercising and hem hawing, I have decided to look at leaf raking as half full too. On the one hand, pooh stinks no matter where you find it. On the other hand, we all had so much fun jumping in the leaves and even watching them burn. I was also very thankful that I didn't have to worry about snakes in the leaves because it is so cold where we live.

So what has life handed you this week, and can you see it as half full or half empty?

Lost

Somewhere along the way, I have lost myself. I used to love fun and having fun. I used to love laughing. I used to have dreams and goals. Now, I have dark circles, gray hair, and a small but growing number of unwanted pounds. I don't work outside of our home, but I am very much all about business. My day is filled with getting work done, which is a giant mystery to me. What am I working on? What do I have that engulfs so much of my time? I do not volunteer. I am not on committees. I am not at playgroups. What on earth is taking up so much of my time that I do not have time to take care of myself?

I think it happened two summers ago when I went in for my hysterectomy. I think my doctor secretly did a lobotomy too and took out the fun part of my personality! Shortly after my surgery, I gained 10 pounds in four weeks, and none of my clothes fit. To fix that problem, I tried the Atkins diet and had a lot of success by not eating most of my favorite foods. Now, I feel guilty for eating fruit, and it feels like I gain weight by just thinking about eating a brownie.

Today, I am going out to look for myself. I am going to start by looking at Wal-Mart in the fruits and vegetables section. If I am not there, maybe I can find myself in the whole grains section of the bread department. I will also be looking in the appliance department by the blenders. Or perhaps, I will find my self at the bottom of a bottle of (wait for it) Clairol's Natural Instincts in golden cappuccino. Maybe I will be hiding somewhere in the cosmetics aisle looking for eye cream. If I am not there, I will check at Starbucks. Maybe I left myself there a couple of hundred mochas ago. Sadly, there is a good chance I might find myself at Target buying a pair of fat pants or maybe dumb bells.

This should be the best time of my life. I finally have the child I have waited my whole life for, and I am raising him with a wonderful man. My husband is a sweet, loving man who really does want to help me and wants me to be happy. This is Halloween when fun should be easy - dipping apples in caramel and carving jack-o-lanterns. Even as I write this, my life is getting easier. Plumber and electrician are here putting a shower into our bathtub.

Last week, one of my facebook friends asked if 40 was the new 30. My reply was, "Forty will be the new 30 until people our age getting closer to 50. Then 50 will be the new 30." Of course I was teasing, but I am sick of missing out on fun in my life. I am tired of looking forward to the fun. This is the time to enjoy life even if our lives are filled with hard work, blood from skinned knees, sweat from chasing small children, and tears, some of our own and some from the aforementioned small children.

Is anyone else lost, or is it just me? And, if you find me here before I get back, please let me know :)

Fireproof

Last night my husband and I watched this movie. I didn't expect much from it; in fact, the only reason we watched it was because our church is thinking about doing small groups about marriage and they want to use the Fireproof materials, so they encouraged us to watch the movie since we want to lead one such group.
I'm going to be honest here - I hated it. While I respect the filmmakers' effort and agree with the underlying principles of the movie (Jesus can change your life, marriage is hard work), I thought that the movie was poorly written, the acting abysmal, the dialogue weak, and the whole story unbelievable and silly. Plus, it's just too simplistic.
Now, I've had several people tell me they've seen God work in people's lives and marriages through this movie. That's great, it truly is. However, I think Fireproof is drivel.
The truth is, I have a problem with a lot of "Christian" art. For instance, you've probably seen those t-shirts that look like a name-brand logo but are actually a Bible verse or something, like "Jesus" written like "Coca-Cola." It's not "Jesus on a t-shirt" that I have a problem with. It's the lack of creativity. Also, it always annoyed me at youth camp when we would sing secular songs that had been re-written with religious lyrics. What are we saying - that Christians are incapable of coming up with their own songs and t-shirt designs? Christian fiction and music are another area where mediocrity flourishes, although there are exceptions (Frank Peretti and Third Day come to mind). It frustrates me that "Christian" media is so often sub-par. It just perpetuates what our culture already thinks about us - that we're stupid, narrow-minded, and not creative at all.
So you don't think I'm entirely a cynic, I am interested to see the materials that my church wants to use for small groups. I think Fireproof the movie is probably a good jumping-off place for a marriage class, but as a film, it doesn't work. I read one review of the movie that said it's probably great for a Bible study, but doesn't belong in theaters, and I think that pretty much sums it up for me. Well, and this quote from the book Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell:

It is possible for music to be labeled Christian and be terrible music. It could lack creativity and inspiration. The lyrics could be recycled cliches. That "Christian" band could actually be giving Jesus a bad name because they aren't a great band. It is possible for a movie to be a "Christian" movie and to be a terrible movie. It may actually desecrate the art form in its quality and storytelling and craft. Just because it is a Christian book by a Christian author and it was purchased in a Christian bookstore doesn't mean it is all true or good or beautiful. A Christian political group puts me in an awkward position: What if I disagree with them? Am I less of a Christian? What if I am convinced the "Christian" thing to do is to vote the exact opposite?

Christian is a great noun and a poor adjective.

Things that make me go "grrrrrr..."

I was packing lunch for a play date the other day, and when I grabbed a container for our sandwiches I noticed the symbols on the bottom. Inspecting them started my mind reeling with the little things that, well, drive me a little nuts. I try to be a positive Mommy, but sometimes I feel like there are things that are just a little more complicated than necessary in my hectic day (and, honestly, most of the time they are pretty funny, too). For example...

Pictures instead of words.


This is the bottom of the container that I was studying the other day. I get the snowflake--that probably involves the freezer. Since these are freezer containers, I would think that little symbol means that yes, indeed, the container can be frozen. That looks like a fork and goblet on the other side. That must mean something about food. The other picture, however, has me lost. Is it a cassette tape? Can I use the box to store my collection of cassette singles from middle school? Is it a VHS tape? The container is too small for those. Maybe the container is made of recycled VHS tapes. It could be an owl looking through a window. I don't really know why, but it could be. What if it's important? Should I devote a Google search to it? How would I even start a search for a symbol when I don't know what it means?

This is a page from the "directions" we were given when we bought our son's bed at Ikea. Ikea is a big company, and they have stores nearly everywhere in the world, so instead of printing words in their directions (that would involve way too many languages) they give much clearer illustrations. Here's a fun game--study the three pictures above and tell me what's different among them other than the exclamation mark and the giant "x." I'm not sure either, but I do hope we pointed at the bed correctly when we assembled it. (*FYI: See note at the end of the post.)

CD's and DVD's as toys in kids' meals.

Dear Fast Food Restaurants:
When I bring my toddler to your establishment and take the time to order inside and actually sit down and eat, I would appreciate it if you would provide us with a ready-to-use toy instead of a CD or DVD. You see, the whole reason why I bother ordering your over-priced kids' meal is because that little plastic car or action figure might just buy me the time I need to finish my fries before they get cold. The sleek multi-media we've been receiving as of late is really just useful as a weapon. Please, please bring back the junk toys. Seriously.

What about you? What gets under your Mommy-skin? :)

(*My husband just informed me that the Ikea directions above are referencing the matress thickness for the bed. I still think it has something to do with making correct hand gestures.)

Because That's the Rule!

It's funny how we "make a rule" for the things we know we want to stick to. Karly's post and the comments that followed it got me thinking about how and why we make rules. Sometimes our motivation is practical: "Last one out shuts the gate!" Sometimes it's for their safety: "Always wear your helmet when you ride your bike or scooter." Sometimes it's for our sanity: "If you're both going to sing, sing the same song!" And sometimes it's purely self-serving, which in the long-run serves the family: "Mommy needs privacy in the bathroom!"

When we actually say with authority that it's a rule, our kids know we feel it's important. Kids appreciate boundaries. They like to know what we expect of them.

That brings me to the subject of consequences. Beyond the baby and early toddler years, natural consequences are fair and appropriate. It's not fair to implement consequences for a behavior if they've never been warned about it before. That also applies to positive consequences. If there is a reward to be earned, they need to know how they can earn it or lose it before they enter a situation. "Kids who stay right with Mommy in the grocery store get a cookie in the bakery when we're done!" If it's a new rule we are trying to establish, they usually want to know why we need the rule. I don't mind telling them the brief reasoning behind it ("to keep you safe"). It helps them make sense of it and to know that we have their best interests in mind.

Dr. Spock says that we should "avoid threats as much as possible. They tend to weaken discipline. It may sound reasonable to say, "If you don't keep out of the street with your bicycle, I'll take it away." But in a sense, a threat is a dare--it admits that the child may disobey. It should impress him more to be firmly told he must keep out of the street, if he knows from experience that his parents mean what they say. On the other hand, if you see that you may have to impose a drastic penalty like taking away a beloved bike for a few days, it's better to give fair warning. It certainly is silly, and quickly destroys all a parent's authority, to make threats that aren't ever carried out or that can't be carried out. "

Now, when I read the threat he gave as an example, my teacher alarm bells started ringing. Both parts of the statement are very negative. Instead of saying, "If you don't keep out of the street with your bicycle, I'll take it away," it would be better with a positive slant: "Keep your bike on the driveway or you'll have to park it." I remember reading somewhere that you don't want to make every consequence something that you'll do to them. Rather, you put the ball in their court and make their consequences something they choose for themselves with their poor choices. "Keep your hands to yourself, or you'll have to sit on time out."

I'm not saying I have this discipline thing down pat, but these are the things I try to keep in mind when I'm dealing with kid behaviors I don't like. What are some of your indisputable family rules?

A Tiny Dagger to the Heart

On Easter morning, we rolled out of bed and dressed for the Bok Sunrise Service, as planned. (Actually, Paul probably rolled whereas I eventually dragged myself out of my cocoon of sheets and blankets.) I had stayed up until almost midnight Saturday night preparing Easter baskets and stuffing eggs for the backyard hunt. Miriam's personal motto of "anything worth doing is worth overdoing" still ringing in my head, I even stuffed some giant eggs with special treats for each of our little egg hunters. So much for keeping the bar low.

Feeling pretty darn good about the fact that we wrestled two preschoolers into the car in their Easter attire by 6 am AFTER they opened their Easter baskets, we trundled on up Iron Mountain for the rising of the sun.

The service was beautiful, as always, with one little change this year: at every pause in the program, our little 2-year-old's munchkin voice would pierce the silence with "Is it over yet, Daddy?" At the end of every song and prayer, and even when we waited anxiously for the poor choir member who fainted in the middle of the service to stand and be escorted out, "Is it over yet, Daddy?" We became the little running joke in our seating area...toddlers are always good for a laugh.

We made it through the chuckles and sidelong glances from empty nesters who obviously remembered the preschool years all too well...their looks said, "Enjoy this sweetness. These years will be gone too soon." I smiled back knowingly, reflecting on how quickly our first child has grown. He's so big and mature. It's hard to believe 5 1/2 years have gone by! I vowed to myself, yet again, to accept the challenge and "enjoy these years while I can."

On our way back through the sanctuary, we stopped to take a picture of the kids in front of a colorful garden. KID 1 wore his red cowboy hat that morning and had even adorned it with a bright green feather for Easter morning. Paul took a couple of pics and then asked the cowboy to remove his hat for the last picture. I held it until they were done, then handed it back saying, "Your Easter bonnet, sir!"

He snatched it away and stuffed it back on his head, mumbling "I hate you!" just so I could hear. Let me tell you, it was all I could do not to start bawling right there, and I'm no cry-baby. I just couldn't believe this was the happy moment he chose to hit me with "I hate you!"

I didn't cry. I stopped him and had the "How Do You Think That Made Me Feel" talk with him, he apologized, I told him I love him, and we continued on with Easter morning. But it stung. It still stings. And I know there is more of that to come, I just wasn't expecting it so soon. I know he really loves me most of the time, but I love him ALL of the time, so my heart was just not prepared for that little dagger. I guess it's time to toughen up a bit.

It's Not Easy Being Green

So my college alumni newsletter found its way to my mailbox again. These people are good, obviously dedicated to their mission because I have not helped them. For all they know, my last known address with them should still be the third floor of Brokaw Hall. I have never bothered to update it for one reason alone. I think I'm a little jealous.

This last newsletter was hard to take. Plastered on the front cover was an all too familiar face - my best guy friend Matt. Matt and I had the same major, so we had almost every class together. We had the same group of friends and even shared an office as SGA President (Matt) and Vice President (me). Right after college, I got married, and Matt moved on to Oral Roberts University to get his masters degree. Matt had goals. He wanted to be in politics on a national level.

I had goals too. I wanted to get married and have children. I didn't really care what my major was because all I wanted to do was stay home and take care of my future husband and the children we would someday have. Getting my college degree was a formality. Everyone expected me too, and so I did what was expected. I chose to major in business management because I thought the degree would give me lots of job options if I ever really needed to work.

Fourteen years later, Matt has achieved his goal. He is super successful, and I am really proud of him. He actually has a position in the Obama administration working for the Secretary of Defense. He has had that position for several years now even under the Bush Administration.

I have also achieved my goals. I am married to a thoughtful loving man, and we have a great child. So what's the problem? Even though I have spent way too much time trying to figure it out, I still don't have a solid answer. This is my closest guess. It seems like everyone else's life is easier than mine, and here's why. College newsletters don't give the full story. They don't say how many hardships Matt had to endure to get where he is today - how many times promotions may have been delayed or missed all together. They don't report on the amount of money still owed in student loans or ill side effects from having a successful but high pressure job. They don't mention how many late suppers and missed tee ball games went along with the obvious success. They didn't disclose that in Matt's article, and it wasn't reported four years ago when they published Alex's birth announcement. Our article didn't say after years of heartache and thousands of dollars in medical treatments and other costs, Pam ('95) and Charlie ('93) finally got the child they wished for. The article did say Alex was from Russia, but it didn't capture our fatigue from spending three out of eight weeks on the other side of the world in a foreign country. It didn't say that we actually had to go to court in Russia without any guarantee that he would be ours.

Ironically, the last time they reported on Matt was the same issue with Alex's birth announcement. I got the newsletter on a Thursday. Later that night, I would go teach my GED class while Matt would be attending an inaugural ball for President Bush. Even though I would never want his life, I still can't quit thinking that we had the same degree. We had the same qualifications and the same potential. I think the bottom line is this. I would love for all of my alums to be successful and happy. I would never want them to have sorrow or troubles, only success and joy. I just don't want to hear about it. Is it too much to ask that they loose my address? Who told them I moved to Florida anyway?

Preschoolers vs. Teenagers

I'm really scared, ladies. I mean it. And here's why: I don't think we've even touched on the difficult years of parenting yet. There. I've said it. I'm not saying it's been easy so far; it hasn't. In fact, I had no idea how hard parenting was before I had kids. The first couple of months are a nightmare - no sleep, spit-up, poop shooting out at a high velocity, endless laundry, nursing, not feeling like you have any idea what you're doing...then toddlerhood comes with temper tantrums and childproofing everything and learning the word, "No!" Throw in stomach viruses, sibling rivalry, and potty training, and it ain't easy, folks. I've been having a particularly rough time with Ethan lately. He is so defiant! This morning he had to go to preschool and he refused to eat breakfast. He kicked me when I picked him up to take him to the kitchen after he flopped down on the couch and refused to move. We were running late and I hate to be late. I told him to go potty and when I went to check on him he was just standing in the hall. Then after he peed he refused to pull up his pants. Then he refused to wash his hands. Then he refused to get his teeth brushed. It was an endless battle. I am still so keyed up I think I could go running, and I hate running. 

But here's the kicker: We haven't gotten to the hard part yet. 

I know this because I have friends with teenagers. One of my friends at tae kwon do was telling us last night that he had to take the computer away from his 13-year-old daughter because she spent 14 hours straight on it. Didn't go to bed till 4:30 in the morning. He told her the limit was now 30 minutes and she openly defied him and stayed on for an hour. Then he caught her telling her mom, "I can't stand him! I don't want to listen to anything he says!" My other good friend recently found out her 16-year-old son has been smoking marijuana with his friends. She discovered this by reading comments on his MySpace. She had her husband go to the high school, check him out, and take him to get drug tested. She met them at the lab and cried through the whole ordeal. These are not "bad" kids. They make good grades, their parents are very involved in their lives, they excel at sports, they have a lot of friends, they go to church, etc. And they were punished for their actions. It's not like they thought they wouldn't be. The girl can't use the computer for 2 weeks and the boy lost his car, cell phone, MySpace password (his mom changed it and won't tell him the new one - isn't that awesome?), and privileges. I have one more friend who has a 15-year-old daughter who likes to go to the movies just so she can make out with boys. She is a good girl and all they do is kiss, but still! The thought of my sons kissing girls in a dark movie theater absolutely freaks me out. I hope they're afraid of girls until they're 25. Don't even ask what I would do if I found out my kids were using drugs or drinking. Because the answer is: I. Have. No. Idea.

So this post is a shout-out to my friends with teenagers. I know you like to laugh at me with my "problems" - potty training, the baby arching his back so I can't buckle him into his car seat, and stepping on Cheerios every time I enter the kitchen. Here's to you and your teenagers - to getting high, IMing until you're blind, and making out with boys. I'm afraid I have no idea how hard it's about to get!

OK girls, get comfy. It’s gonna be a long one. “See, we have this depression goin’ on” and I cain’t afford no counselin’….

Today is one of those I hate everything kind of days, which is really sad because the day started out great. My husband let me sleep in. I had a few minutes to catch up on reading my Bible. I checked my email. I even logged on to Facebook. There it was, the stupid questionnaire that threatened my day: First born. Here are some of the questions:

WAS YOUR FIRST PREGNANCY PLANNED?
WERE YOU MARRIED AT THE TIME?
WHAT WAS YOUR REACTION?
WAS ABORTION AN OPTION FOR YOU?

For me, infertility was a seven year battle filled with pain, despair, sorrow, anger, crying, hopelessness, more crying, more anger and guilt. I hid in bathroom stalls and cried. I cried in airports, and I even ran out of a college class crying. Fortunately I was taking the class, not teaching it. Looking back, that one was kind of funny. A girl was giving a report on abortions and how bad they are, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. The other students in the class probably thought I had had one earlier in life.

During that time, people said the worst things to me in an attempt to help. My coworkers would complain about their kids and then say, “See, aren’t you glad you don’t have any.” That resulted in the bathroom stall episode from above. My husband and I tried each medical breakthrough once just so I could have the peace of mind that I did everything I could. This involved me carrying expensive, injectible drugs (our co-pay for one week of drugs was over $1,000) through an airport and shooting up in the bathroom between flights. My husband even had to learn how to give me shots. BTW, the medicine itself is hormones, so you can just imagine my emotional state of mind.

Then there were the failures. I never got pregnant, and each time I had to tell my husband that it didn’t work was harder and harder. I will never forget the day I found out our In Vitro failed. This In Vitro was our last ditch effort, our final try. My brother Brad just happened to come to work to see me right after I got the news. I was devastated. Thank God he was there to help me. Sadly, trough it all, I was one of the lucky ones. God protected me from a lot of pain. I never miscarried. My mom had several miscarriages just trying to have the three of us. I have two close friends who had ectopic pregnancies, which are devastating. God knew I couldn’t handle those types of loss.

I have endometriosis, and I had three surgeries within in two years to try to remove the damaged tissue. In 2007, I finally had a hysterectomy. After adopting Alex, I would say that I am mostly cured from the sorrow of infertility. The pain and anger sneak up on me every once in a while, but I can now say I am so glad things worked out the way they did. Alex is awesome. Thank you God for having enough faith in me to find Alex and for planning such a wonderful child for me. When we went to Russia, we were paired with the Ribeiros, who have become great friends. I remember asking Carrie why God gave us such a desire to have kids when we physically couldn’t. She explained it best. God has to give some women that much desire so that these kids can have homes. Think about it, if you could give birth, you would. Who else would be willing to jump through all of the adoption hoops? She is just so smart and another fantastic gift from God.

Even being mostly cured, there are days when I get tired of looking on the bright side. I get tired of being positive. Today is one of those days. In response to this questionnaire, I posted a note that some people might have said was snarly, but darn it, I am tired of pretending like it didn’t hurt. Most importantly, the extreme hurt is what makes God's answer to the hurt so wonderful. Selena, one of my first friends in life, wrote a note back to me saying “You could just be creative.” Isn't she great and wise? I am so glad to be back in touch with her. She is right, but I just needed a minute to have a pity party.

Now that I am over it, I am asking you all to read my answers to the questions. Thanks for letting me vent. I really appreciate it. I do want to add that the girl who sent me this questionnaire is supper sweet and would never want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I also need to say again, I am so thankful this was God’s plan for me. I can’t believe he gave me such a wonderful gift as Alex, and I would never want Alex to think I would have it any other way. When I was so desperate and going through infertility, I didn’t know that God was going to work things out for me. He did not have to give me a child. I knew God could help me be joyful in any circumstance, but I didn’t know how great the plan was.

WAS YOUR FIRST PREGNANCY PLANNED? More than you can imagine, but not my plans, God’s.
WERE YOU MARRIED AT THE TIME? Yes.
WHAT WAS YOUR REACTION? Sheer joy – see picture.



WAS ABORTION AN OPTION FOR YOU? Never, and praise God it wasn’t for his birth mom either!
HOW OLD WERE YOU? 32 – only about seven years older than I thought I would be.
HOW DID YOU FIND OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT? It’s complicated.
WHO DID YOU TELL FIRST? My dad – my husband was with me.
DID YOU WANT TO FIND OUT THE SEX? We travelled to Russia on a blind referral, which means we did not know anything about the child we were meeting, and then found out that our child was an 11 month old boy!
DUE DATE? Sometime in November of 2004.
DID YOU HAVE MORNING SICKNESS? More than you can imagine due to the blind referral. Thank goodness Prilosect came out OTC that spring.
WHAT DID YOU CRAVE? Homemade brownies on top of homemade coffee cream topped with whipped cream and chocolate sauce.
WHO/WHAT IRRITATED YOU THE MOST? Pregnant people – I am sorry, but it was kind of true back then.
WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CHILD'S SEX? Boy.
DID YOU WISH YOU HAD THE OPPOSITE SEX OF WHAT YOU WERE GETTING? No. I just wanted a baby.
HOW MANY POUNDS DID YOU GAIN THROUGHOUT THE PREGNANCY? About 10.
DID YOU HAVE A BABY SHOWER? Yes.
WAS IT A SURPRISE OR DID YOU KNOW? I knew.
DID YOU HAVE ANY COMPLICATIONS DURING YOUR PREGNANCY? Yes, the Russian government changed a lot of their requirements during our adoption. We had to be examined by seven or eight different doctors while in Russia.
WHERE DID YOU GIVE BIRTH? Alex’s birth certificate says that I gave birth to him in Astrakhan, Russia. He was actually born in Kamyzak.
HOW MANY HOURS WERE YOU IN LABOR? I call our flight home my labor, so 23 or 24 hours.
WHO DROVE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? My mom and dad drove us to the airport.
WHO WATCHED YOU GIVE BIRTH? A team of social workers, lawyers, a judge and a few translators.
WAS IT NATURAL OR C-SECTION? It was far from natural.
DID YOU TAKE MEDICINE TO EASE THE PAIN? Not enough!
HOW MUCH DID YOUR CHILD WEIGH? 1K and 900 g – 4 pounds and 3 ounces.
WHEN WAS YOUR CHILD BORN? September 25, 2004.
WHAT DID YOU NAME HIM/HER? Alex (this is part of his given name) Jacob (from the Bible) Carver.

So I married a football fan...

Thanks to my Sunday post day here at Motley Moms I have the privilege of covering two very important days: Time Change Day and Superbowl Day. Well, it's not the day we change our clocks, so it must be game day! Yeah.

For those of you who might have missed it, I am from Kentucky. In case you didn't know, in Kentucky we are partial to a little game called "basketball." Traditionally, we're pretty darn good at it, too. Even during the years that our stats are a little low, we're still good at it, we're just having a re-organizing year. Now, some of you are thinking, she must be talking about the University of Kentucky, so why is she saying "we?" Well, basketball is such an institution in the Bluegrass State that our middle school and high school tournaments generate as much excitement as does March Madness. I was shocked when I moved to Florida and saw a high school "gym" for the first time--My elementary school court was bigger! Our high school gyms rival small universities here, and for important games they are probably better attended. To make a long point a little shorter, I grew up with basketball, and in my lifetime I have never really cared much for football.

So, I married a guy from Pittsburgh. They do like football there. Some people like it so much that they paint their team's insignia on the side of their houses. Today, the people of Pittsburgh are beside themselves with excitement, like true fans should be, as they wait to see if their beloved Steelers will bring home another championship. And tonight, the Superbowl will grace our television screen.

You're probably thinking that I'm going to say that since my husband and I got married over six years ago I have become a huge fan of football. Well, no, I have to admit that I still could care less about the sport (I can practically smell the rotten tomatoes some of you are getting ready to throw!) I'm still loyal to basketball, I have become a pretty big fan of curling over the years, and I love soccer, but football still escapes me. I don't get it, and really I don't feel like I need to. I wish the Steelers and their fans luck, I am happy for them, and I will watch them play, but honestly, I'm just not that into it.

So, in order to keep the peace in our household, I've had to come up with some reasons to get excited about game day. Here' s my list of things I think are "super" today:

1. Velveeta in its natural state kind of scares me, but when it's mixed with some Ro-Tel tomatoes it makes a yummy once-a-year dip.

2. Wilton makes cute little football sprinkles now. What's a football game without cute little cupcakes, right? ;)

3. We're all expected to eat a lot during the game, so any calories I consume probably don't count.

4. Two words: Puppy Bowl. My husband lets me flip to Animal Planet during the pre-game shows.

5. We get to watch the game with friends this year, and that makes anything more fun!

Have a happy game day, and do something you think is fun!

Say What...

I was lucky enough to spend some time last weekend with my college friend Jody. We had a great time clipping coupons, reliving memories and watching our kids play. More than once during the weekend, Jody said "snap" in the same way I use "shoot" or "darn," so I started saying "snap" in my head just to see if I could work it into everyday life. I finally had to realize that I cannot pull off "snap." Even worse, I realized that it had been a few years since I could pull off the latest street jargon. When I was in college, I used "my bad" correctly, and I think I did OK with "you go girl". My youngest brother is 12 years younger than me, so he taught me how to say "that's tight" or "off the hook", and the taught me when and how to keep things on the "down low". Apparently though not too many people say down low anymore. I think it has been replaced by "QT", which makes no sense to me. In my mind, QT should stand for quiet time, of which I am definitely a fan!

So it makes me wonder what happened to me and my youth. It seems like somewhere along the way, I have lost my ability to have fun and be cool. Did I just wake up this old one day? I have three plausible theories:

1. It seems like I have already forgotten a lot of what Alex and I have done in the last three years, so maybe I didn't really live it. Maybe during my sleep, I was transported through time.

2. For three years, I was an accountant at our local hospital. Maybe the other accountants were jealous of my youth, sense of humor, and zest for life. Maybe they kidnapped me and forced me to have a lobotomy that took away the fun part of my brain.

3. Our cell phone plan does not have texting. Maybe everyone in the US but me is getting texted with the latest catch phrases.

Don't cry for me, my peeps. There is still hope. I also heard Jody say, "holy chicken cacciatore" and I think I can roll with that one.

Christmas Excess

I wrote an article for MOPS International's website about how to avoid the perils of Christmas Excess and the true meaning behind this Christ-centered holiday. You can find it over at MOPS.org.

Thanks for reading and have a blessed Christmas week!

Love,

Donna

Holiday Stress (and a Tip)

I love the holidays. I DO NOT love the stress I feel when preparing for them.

[I am also happy to report that I am feeling much less stressed this year than last year. I think this is mostly because my in-laws will not be coming to my home for Christmas as they did last year (I fed 24 adults and 4 children last Christmas). Oh yeah, I am also not pregnant and totally hormonal this year either. Take my advice, it's not a winning combination.]

First, I realize that this stress is self-induced, mostly. I compare what I do to what I think is the 'perfect' way (mostly Martha-esque kind of stuff). And, well, I always come up short as far as that goes. I feel like the memories that my children and family have of Christmas are up to me and me alone to make 1)joyous, 2) meaningful, and 3)positive experiences for everyone.

I am not saying that my darling husband doesn't help. He is awesome at pitching in and getting things cleaned up before guests come over. That alone is a huge weight off my shoulders. However, his idea of clean and mine are not always the same. Here is a great example. RM was off last Friday and told me he would clean the house for our Sunday School party progressive dinner on Saturday night (we were hosting dessert). So, I went to work slightly relieved that I would not have to stay up all night cleaning. When I got home, he had worked hard all day. He cleaned the front and screened in porches and scrubbed a rug and had it hanging to dry.

The rest of the house had not been touched. Seriously. Toys and books were strewn about. The laundry was stacked beside the washer, still dirty. Dishes were dirty and in the sink and half empty coffee cups were distributed through just about every room downstairs. I am happy to report that I did not have a stroke at that moment. I even smiled and thanked him for his hard work (on rooms that no one would probably even go into). Then I locked myself in the bathroom and had a breakdown. No lie.

Then, I cleaned like mad and was able to have the downstairs (excluding the airplane work room which I can not even write about here without taking Valium) clean and dusted by noon on Saturday. RM worked outside on a plumbing issue he discovered and thank the Good Lord we did not have to call an emergency plumber. RM did mop the floors and clean the bathrooms after he and THE Princess took their nap, and that was awesome. The man can use some bleach like nobody I know.

I cooked until we dropped the kids off at the nursery and got it all done! Although I had a hard time relaxing and enjoying the first two courses because of my anxiousness about having dessert ready when everyone arrived. And, I need to let it be known that I really love to host and cook for others. I like the planning for that. I like the cooking. I like using fancy dishes and polishing the silver to serve it on.

[If you ever need to polish silver, you should know about this. Take a huge pot and line it with aluminum foil. Put in a couple tablespoons of baking soda and fill with water to cover the object that needs to be polished. Bring to a boil. Make sure the silver object isn't dirty (wipe off any gunk) and submerge so that it is covered with water and also touches the foil. Leave for about 2 minutes. Pull it out with tongs and the tarnish should be mostly gone. Put it back in if necessary. Replace the foil when it stops taking the tarnish off. Dry with a soft cloth.

So, back to the Christmas experience. I am the one who plans, shops and creates the gifts, sends out the cards, decorates the house (RM does assemble our fake tree and carry the boxes). I wrap everything. I make sure no one in the extended family is forgotten. I plan and schedule attending events. And I love doing it, but it does stress me out.

I would love to deligate some of these jobs. But, I know what will happen. On Christmas Eve RM would be running through the mall purchasing gifts on the credit card and paying to have them wrapped. People would be forgotten. The stockings would hang empty on the mantle. The food would be take-out or purchased from Publix to the tune of more and more money. Gifts would be mailed around New Years, if at all. There would be no holiday parties. And the house would have clean floors (which I would enjoy) and nothing else.

Is this a purposeful method that people use? Sometimes I think so. Because, if they do it badly once, then they won't be asked to do it again. And of course, I can't stand to watch it be done badly. So, I jump in with both feet.

And, as I was telling RM my theory last night he said, "Honey, I love that you are creative. Just not screaming, crying, lunatic creative. I like the smiling, crafting, happy creative." And so do I.

So, tell me, how do you make your holidays less stressful? Or, do you just freak out like I do? 'Tis the season, right?

These are a few of my favorite things... and a Rant About Oprah

Did anyone see Oprah's "Favorite Things" show this week? I found it to be a little depressing. There's nothing like being reminded (repeatedly and relentlessly) that our economy is in trouble and the purse strings are tighter this year..."I'm dreaming of a thrifty Christmas" just doesn't have a nice ring to it. I watch Oprah to escape reality, not to wallow in it, and each year I look forward to seeing that crowd of people go into cardiac arrest as they open their millions of dollars worth of loot during the "Favorite Things" show. The gratitude boxes were nice and thoughtful, I guess, but come on--I just saw cocoa mix in a plastic bag shaped like a cone at Walmart earlier today--give us a little credit, please. And I have it on a higher authority (Donna's MIL) that preparing an excellent turkey is not nearly as hard as and requires far less basting than Ms. Ferrare's method. (By the way--who is Cristina Ferrare? Wasn't she famous for some reason years ago? And why is she suddenly a cook on the Oprah show?)

So, I propose we make a new law: The word "thrifty" is NEVER to be used in the same sentence as the word "Christmas." I mean, really, is anyone else insulted by this? Why must we always put a price tag on a holiday that, at its heart, celebrates something (Someone, rather) that was a free "gift" to us in the first place? I also propose that we all have an extravagant Christmas, and by extravagant I do not mean expensive--one that is so full of joy, love, merriment, and light that when we wake up on the 26th we say, "Whoops! We were having so much fun that we completely forgot to open the gratitude boxes and cocoa cones!" A Christmas so festive that we order pizza because we just don't have time to baste a turkey every fifteen minutes!

You know, as I'm typing this I remembered something--do you remember the scene in How the Grinch Stole Christmas where the Grinch has taken all of the town's gifts and he's waiting to see the townspeople's devastation? What happens? They all go hold hands and sing around a Christmas tree. He took their gifts but he couldn't take their spirits nor could he dampen the Spirit of the holiday.

Did you read Karly's blog this week? I totally agree with her--we are trying to re-evaluate our traditions and re-focus our attentions this year, too. For us, we don't want the tone of our holidays to be set by the amount of money we spend (whether it's a lot or a little), and we don't want our son to judge the success of our endeavors by the number of gifts he receives--thrifty or not!

(breathe)

All right, now for the fun stuff. To start this joyous Advent season I'm reflecting on some of my "Favorite Things" during the holidays. Here's my list:

• Favorite Christmas Movie: The Night They Saved Christmas (Jaclyn Smith plays a mom who lives in Alaska? with her family. Her husband works for a drilling company that is drilling too close to the North Pole for Santa's tastes. Santa invites the family to join him at North Pole City, and the unbelievers--in Santa, of course--learn a little about themselves and the meaning of Christmas along the way. It's a wonderfully cheesy Christmas tale that I would love to watch over and over if they would just release it on DVD!)
• Favorite Christmas Movie that My Family Wishes Would Disappear: Truman Capote's A Christmas Memory (It's really a sad story in the end, but I'm just riveted watching them make those fruit cakes. It was a quite accurate adaptation of one of his short stories.)
  
• Favorite Christmas Beverage: Boiled Custard (This may be more popular than eggnog in my neck of the woods, but if you grew up somewhere else you've probably never heard of it. My great-aunt used to make it from scratch every Christmas morning.)
• Favorite Christmas Song: O Holy Night (Sung by Josh Groban. "Chains shall we break for the slave is our brother, and in His name, all oppression shall cease..." chills)
• Favorite Christmas Candy: Divinity (My Mom's, of course!)
• Favorite Christmas Special: "Shrek the Halls" (I can't help it--the Gingerbread Man's story is hilarious--"You weren't there!"lol)
• Favorite Old Christmas Tradition: I haven't done this is several years, but I used to love driving around with my sister at night with huge cups of coffee and hot chocolate to look at the Christmas lights.
• Favorite New Christmas Tradition: Turning on the Christmas lights. My Little Guy says, "Whoa!" and grins every time.

Of course this list could continue for days, and I could get very deep and philosophical, but I want to hear your list! Happy Christmas Season!

An Inconvenient Bag: It Ain't Easy Going Green

So I probably have about 12 of those reuseable shopping bags. Some say Walmart on them, some say Publix. I have storage issues in my home, so they get stowed on the back porch (our family entry and exit) where I can grab them and go.

Except, I keep forgetting to grab them. I go to the store and don't realize I've forgotten them until I'm in the checkout lane and the bagger asks me, "Paper or plastic, ma'am?"

Defeated voice: "Plastic, please." Crap.

Once I actually did remember to bring them in with me, but they were stowed underneath the cart - out of sight, out of mind. I felt like such an idiot when I loaded my trunk with plastic grocery bags and then had to lay my reuseables on top...argh!

And the times when I do remember to use them, I'm a bit embarrassed because my bags get mildewed out on the back porch from all the moisture in this sub-tropical air. I've washed them, but mildew just doesn't come out. So they look nasty. So I bought a few more.

But now I don't know what to do with the nasty mildewy ones, cause I certainly don't want to use them. And I can't throw them away...the Green Police might find out and arrest me.

Okay, I realize the "Green Police" are only in my head, but throwing away these bags is like a sin against the environment. I have guilt issues.

Then I read "An Inconvenient Bag" at the Wall Street Journal yesterday, which really did nothing to assuage my guilty conscience. The first line is a good example: "It's manufactured in China, shipped thousands of miles overseas, made with plastic and could take years to decompose." And further down, "Many of the cheap, reusable bags that retailers favor are produced in Chinese factories and made from nonwoven polypropylene, a form of plastic that requires about 28 times as much energy to produce as the plastic used in standard disposable bags and eight times as much as a paper sack."

The good news is, you can make up for this energy consumption during production if you consistently use your reuseable bags. They say if you use them once a week, 4 or 5 reuseable bags can replace 520 plastic disposables in a year.

The bad news is, you actually have to remember to take them with you and bring them all the way into the store...they can't help you if they're still in the trunk of your car when you reach the checkout.

Or the bottom of your loaded cart when you return to your car.

These are days...

Motherhood has truly made me feel like a kid again. True, I don't look so much like a kid anymore, but I don't mind--it comes in handy when I need to buy spray paint and super glue. It's the excitement of seeing the world through my soon-to-be two year old's eyes and actually getting to live in that world that takes me back to my early years when Grandma's house meant Tang and Kraft Singles, sleeping outside was actually fun, and staying up late to finish the latest volume of the Nancy Drew Files didn't give me a headache the next day.

It's really not so different these days than when I was growing up--Sesame Street still begins with the all-too-familiar song and Cookie Monster is still eating the letter of the day. I'm still playing school like I used to, but my "student" is now our little boy instead of my captive, I mean captivated, little sister. I'm still playing in the kitchen, but now my tools are a little bigger, a little more expensive, and a little less likely to break (particularly the oven!).

What is most exciting to me is getting to step back into the world of our toddler and "grow up" with him. The opportunity to read the books I never read as a child just excites me, and one of the most relaxing afternoons I have had in months came the other day when my son and I sat on his play carpet and pushed cars around a make-believe road. And, you know, it is more fun to eat sandwiches cut into silly shapes (particularly when they're made with Nutella! lol) I had forgotten the sense of accomplishment that comes from having colored every inch of a page from a coloring book, and stacking blocks to see how tall they will go could keep me busy for hours (if my son didn't get tired of it after 10 minutes and move on to something else!). I am seriously looking forward to the LEGO and Lincoln Logs years. Don't even get me started on the joys of playdough--especially now that I have the pleasure of making it before I play with it! We add spices to it that complement the colors of the dough--ground cloves in red playdough is just amazing...

So, why the nostalgia? Today is my birthday and God has blessed me with 32 wonderful years of life on this little planet. I am so grateful for the ordinary miracles of life and for my dear family and friends, and I am so humbled that on top of all of this, I get to have a little fun, too.

(Me, three years old, with my baby sister)

The Toughest Years

My husband and I have been married for over seven years now, and it amazes me that there is still more to learn about how to be a better partner to him, and vice versa. But I know I can be, and I know he can be, and this challenge is what keeps our marriage fresh. I think it always will.

The funny thing is, before we decided we were ready for kids, I had this epiphany: we needed to be married for at least 2 years before we had any children. My theory in support of this was that we needed plenty of time to get to know each other as partners in marriage before we complicated it with kids. Important things like:

• Which side of the bed was mine?


• Who takes out the trash?


• Who does the grocery shopping?


• Is he a safe driver? Are his reflexes fast enough to dodge sudden obstacles in the road, thus preventing a life-altering (or -ending) crash? Maybe I should drive...?


• How do I know when he's sick of me and needs some space?


• How do I let him know, kindly, when I need some space?
  
• I was raised Catholic, he, Methodist...where would we go to church?

Some of these things turned out to be silly...

• I'm left-handed. I like the left side of the bed. Duh.


• He takes out the trash, of course.
  
• If he crashes the car, at least we'll go together.
  
• And it's pretty obvious when we need some space. We speak in 1-2 word sentences, terse and to-the-point. Can't waste energy required to hold myself together on speech.

Finding the right church was harder. We church-hopped for a while before having kids. We knew this one was really important in the life of our future family, so we didn't make the decision lightly. We also didn't make this decision until after our first child arrived! All of a sudden, with the birth of our baby boy, our priorities and spiritual needs became crystal clear.

Presbyterian seems to be the happy sticking place for us. We love our church family! They support us in every aspect of our family life, as individuals, as partners, and as parents. Awesome. I feel so blessed by all the ministries that touch our lives: my circle group, The Breakfast Club Sunday school class (our grown-up class), Mother's Forum, Lil' Kidz programs, Vacation Bible School, Preschool Sunday School, Girls' Nite Out, Musikgarten, Wednesday night Ekklessia dinner and classes, and inspirational Sunday morning worship services.

Our church is also the home of MOPS in this town, yet another wonderful ministry that supports me in my mothering adventure while my kids are preschoolers.

Without all this support, looking back over the past seven years, I don't know how I could have handled these soul-searching, sleep-deprived, tidal wave years of becoming new parents. These are the toughest years of my life thus far, as a wife, as a woman.

But as a Christian, I am thriving.

No, we didn't have it all figured out before becoming parents. We don't have it all figured out now, either. How boring would that be?