Driven to Be Thirty One

Life in the Fat Lane and Keeping it To Myself (and you,and you...)

2008-03-24T13:32:00.000-07:00

Not that I'm staying in it. I'm just on the road to recovery from Fat Ass Syndrome he, he...

I'm keeping my weight loss blog private by invitation only, and I plan to change this to private next week. If you haven't been invited to my weight loss blog, it's because

I didn't realize you were even reading this
I don't have you're email address in my address book
You may have 'broken up' with me, for loss of a better term to call it, and won't speak to me but like to know what I'm up to

So comment or email me if you want in on my weight loss and if you want to keep reading this blog. I just at this point am very aware that some people are reading who have decided to not have a relationship with me anymore. Totally your choice. Not trying to be hateful or nasty. Feel free to read Momstinct.com , but I need this and my weight loss kept among friends who are supportive of where I am at right now, and are here for me.

If you think that this 'may' be directed at you, feel free to ask but it's most likely not. The few who I'm uncomfortable with know who they are for sure, and it is their choice.

Thanks,

Talitha

Oh A Few More

2008-03-11T10:01:00.001-07:00

Talitha's Shrinking Ass (suggested by Jen Carr)
Watch Me Shrink
The Point of No Return

See my infatuation with the points system? Although, I still Love Mad Cow on the Mend Or Mad Cow Woman... Just cracks me up

It won't let me add those to the poll, so comment if you prefer one of those...

Weight Loss

2008-03-11T08:11:00.000-07:00

Ok, so for those of you Weight Watchers gurus, I'm going to start a weight loss blog. Jen G inspired me to do it and I haven't taken the time this weekend, with Jacob's colonoscopy and all that.
I have to be honest. I feel fed up and determined. But I feel no confidence. I look at Jen G, Jen C and Candace with their pcitures and success. Deep down I don't feel like I can do it. I feel discouraged before I even start. But as my hard as# neighbor said, 'That's just another excuse." So, even though I doubt myself, I'm just going to go for it. I've been careful over the weekend but didn't really worry about points with everything going on.

Today I am going full force and I need all the help and encouragement I can get!

So what should I call the blog? I'm going to try to make a poll, just for fun. It's at the top on the right. I jsut came up with them super fast. Give me some suggestions!!!

Change of Events

2008-03-02T13:18:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I've decided to embark on one of my other 'things to do before I die'. My intention was to write a book on regaining maternal instincts. I've decided to start it as a blog instead, which will soon include articles and interviews with different moms and eventually a discussion forum for readers.

So, for now you can find me blogging at www.momstinct.com . I may eventally make this blog private for people who want to read my more personal mussings. So, go check me out :)

www.momstinct.com

On Comments

2008-01-26T06:55:00.001-08:00

I've changed the preferences on my blog to allow anonymous comments again. I love all of the emails and myspace messages I've been getting in response to the blog, so I went ahead and changed it so that unregistered readers can comment. Comments make my day. I love knowing when someone reads me.
I am moderating all comments. If you want to post as anonymous because you're sharing something personal and don't want to be recognised, go for it. If you disagree with something that I write or say (which is entirely likely) I ask that you use your name. This blog is based on my being completely transparent and brutally honest. I'm seriously vulnerable here. Feel free to confront something I say 'face to face' or name to name, but if you hide behind the word 'anonymous' your comment will not be accepted.

So, go tell me what you think of my craziness!

Urine in Contacts = Not A Good Substitute for Saline

2008-01-25T22:15:00.000-08:00

Yes, you read that right. Let me start a bit back...

Our sweet Jacob. He breaks my heart with his constant "Mommy, can I cuddle wif you." and "I want you to hold me." He's a sponge for affection and can just never get enough. His favorite thing to do at the moment is ask "Do you know what I love?" and after your obligatory "What?", he throws his warm little arms around you and cries "YOU!!!". And he'll do it over and over, even with someone he's just met. His heart is tender and wonderfully open.
Yet his body is sick, and we don't know why. He often cries at night that his bottom hurts, writhing in pain. Every week or so I will see blood on tissue when I help him wipe after using the toilet. It's terrifying. I've looked over and over, never to find where the blood could be coming from. He's been toilet trained since last spring, so it's certainly not a diaper rash and there is no visible irritation.
We've been at the doctor a good bit. I'm sure she sees paranoid parents often. The first time we redid the celiac testing, since our previous pediatrician botched the test. He neglected to tell us that Jake actually needed gluten in his system for it to be conclusive. So we fed him gluten and retested. Nothing. The next time it was a blood test for food allergies. Nothing. Then he seemed to stop complaining and life got busy with four of our birthdays and Jesus', too. He did well, but now we are back to complaining. It's more frequent and so are the bits of blood.
So last week we returned to the pediatrician and he was doing the writhing and fussing while we were there. He also went to the bathroom and she was able to see firsthand the little bit of blood. At least now it's validated. It's not in my head. Phew... So she did some swabs and we went back again later for some more blood work for I don't know what. Then I got Strep. Ugh.

The Dr ordered a barium enema to see what is going on in his intestines. My poor little guy! It was scheduled for today and, like I said, yesterday he was to have clear liquids only after 1pm. Coop started at 12:45 so I fed him lunch and geared up for the long haul. I let him choose juice and one of those Vitamin Water things. He chose the 'endurance' and hated it but Mommy liked it. May be a good thing. I feel that I could use some endurance right now. So he had his juice and jello for snack at Coop and did so well not wanting the other kids snacks. I heard he found a stray Cheerio and snarfed it down before his teacher could intercept. Such a sweet woman. Luckily the Cheerio caused no harm.
At 4pm I gave him a triple dose of Senecot as directed. For dinner he had 4 bowls of Jello. I can just see him in college (((shudder))). And then before bedtime, I was obligated to administer the dreaded Fleet Enema. Dear Lord this test better be worth it! Well, we did that and I laid on the bathroom floor with him waiting for it to work. I was starting to worry when it finally did it's thing and cleaned him out. Poor guy didn't know what was going on. I explained every step. "We're going to do this to clean out your bottom so the Dr can see what is wrong with it tomorrow." On a hunch I dug up an old Pull Up for him to wear overnight. Under protests of being a big boy already, I finally convinced him that 3 year old can wear Pull Ups on occasion. Thank God for those little hunches we mom's get. The little man woke up devastated because he had an accident in his sleep. I explained to him that the medicine was making his body do what it needed to do to clean out, and it didn't count as an accident. After all that, we had to do another Enema this morning. This test IS important, right? Sigh....
The morning was much harder as the other kids ate and Jacob couldn't. I sat Selah and Lucas down with breakfast and Jacob and I played with trains and his new wooden tool set. I had, of course, chosen to fast with him.
The whole morning I struggled to do anything amid the begging for food and fussing of his bottom hurting, and the jealousy of a little 18 month old who wandered shy he wasn't the one getting all of the attention. I held them both for most of the time and we all watched The Fox and The Hound. It took me awhile to realize that there is actually no 'Fox'. That the hot little girly pup is 'foxy' as in sexy.... thus a Fox. Even back then cartoons were really for parents, weren't they?
Carol was a divine angel, come to save me from the potential of taking all three children to Scottish Rite Children's Hospital. Looking back at my long day, I can see that it would have absolutely bankrupt my energy.
We arrived on time and walked in amid reflections from windows tinted in all shades of the rainbow. Jacob was captivated and took several minutes naming each color before he would agree to approach the registration desk. And that's where I became the hospital mother. Apparently every employee of the hospital believes that I am adopting them, no matter if they are even my senior. Because every where I went it was "Right here, Mom." "Mom, I need you to sign here." "Mom, here's your license back."... "Oh, thank you, Mom." I understand that it makes things easier for them, yet it felt quite odd. I was seriously tempted to respond with a "Yes, son?" to the worst offender but I decided against it. I still wasn't sure which of them was responsible for inserting things into my little boy and I didn't want to risk pissing anyone off.

We were in the room rather quickly, where my little guy refused to wear the medical gown. He was much more comfortable prancing around stark naked in only his socks, thank you. So that's what he did. The initial Xrays went quickly. I had to wear the lead jacket and they had this little square of lead that they laid over his tiny penis. My future grandchildren thank you. I held his hands and his trusty sheep lay right next to him to get his Xrays, too.
Then the Barium went in. He was such a trooper. He lay still just holding my hand and we talked about what we were going to go eat when we left. I told him we would have a date and he could choose. He was torn between scrambled eggs from Awful House of a Quesadilla from Taco Smell. It's not my fault, my husband teaches them these things! By the time they were ready to start the Xrays with the barium, the quesadilla had won out, and my son was fretful and uncomfortable. The radiologist rushed in and at that point I was asked to stand back and just watch. Two nurses flipped his body over into several poses as the radiologist called out... whatever it was he called out. I wasn't listening. All I could here was my little man crying and saying "Dat's enuf! Dat's Enuf! I'm all done." And eventually just crying because they weren't done yet. The last part he was on his back and could look at me so I swallowed my sick feeling and panic to tell him all those reassuring things you're supposed to. You're so brave! It's almost done! I'm so proud of you! Just a minute longer.
Finally done, They wrapped his tiny body in towels and handed him to me telling me to get him on the toilet immediately. The bag of barium that they pushed into his system was huge, and his belly was distended like a little starving boy from Africa. He sat on the toilet screaming that it hurt, so I bent down to rub his back and help him relax. That's when it happened. The poor little guy lost control and peed as all the barium came rushing out. Unfortunately he wasn't prepared to hold things down, so he peed right in my eye, down the left side of my face and in my hair. Luckily my contact started flipping out causing me to focus on not losing it, rather than the urge to hyperventilate and have a panic attack. My sweet son sat there with barium pouring out of him saying " Mommy, I sorry I peed on you!" I had to ask the nurse 5 times to find me some saline solution and if she told me ONE MORE TIME that the urine was sterile... oh never mind.
So after 15 minutes in the bathroom and an unbelievable amount of chalky white liquid coming out of my boy, we were able to go get the last set of xrays and then get dressed. I was impressed that Jacob wasn't traumatized by the whole thing and jumped right up for that last set. Kids truly are amazing.
As we were getting ready to leave the poor nurse brought out a cheep, ugly teddy bear and Jacob would have nothing to do with it. She tried several times to get him to take it, even asking if he could be Sheepy's friend. Not interested. Smart boy, saved mom a trip to Goodwill. It was a sweet gesture, of course. But yeah, no need for more teddys around here. Smart boy deserved TWO quesadillas!
So the whole ordeal was over. We drove through Taco Smell on the way home for his 'treat' of a Quesadilla. He was thrilled that I could roll down his window in the sliding door so he could order it. He's always begging for his window to open. Yet another feature I LOVE about the 2008!
We got home to the other two down for their nap and Carol relaxing with her daughter Zephora. Jacob finished his quesadilla and was off for nap time to. I chose to err on the side of good manners and spend some time with Carol (good decision, I got to know her a bit better.) But let me tell you I could hardly wait to wash my face again and wash my hair!

MY BRAVE ONE

Counting Blue Cars...

2008-01-24T23:11:00.000-08:00

Yes, I'm going to use song titles for all my car posts. You know you like it!

This morning I woke the the sound of a a stampede down the hallway as Jacob rode his 'horse' in pursuit of a wild mountain lion named Selah. At 6:15am. Lucas was still out, so I took the rare opportunity to get some cutting done before I had to make breakfast. I threw together a batch of Jello to prepare for Jacob's 24 hour clear liquid fast. And of course, I confiscated the horse and the cheetah print sweater... Sleep is crucial when you're 18 months old.
I prepared for my Rethinking Reusables class by rummaging through my trash and recycling bin to find examples of all seven types of plastics . It was pretty simple to find the first 6, but try as I might, I couldn't find NUMBER SEVEN! It's the most toxic, I've heard, and ironically it's used to make those unbreakable water bottles like Nalgene bottles. Brilliant, huh?
I printed up my materials on how landfills work and had them ready to go. I packed snacks, backpacks and a laundry basket full of 'trash' for us to work with during class and off I went to pack it all into my lovely ride. The well in the back of the 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan is huge. I fit everything in there nice and neat without a problem. As I loaded up the back I pushed the buttons for the side doors to open and by the time I was ready to buckle in the munchkins, the whole crew had climbed up and were ready to be restrained. Life can be so simple when the kids are latched down...
Before we headed to co-op we stopped off at our 'spiritual home' to visit at the mom's play group for a bit. I grabbed a cup of coffee and couldn't help sharing the van with some friends and showing them all of the cool features it has!
Kathrine, being 6'2" was just as excited about the button to adjust the height of the floor pedals as I was! Although for opposite reasons, since I'm only 5'4". It works for anyone's height to be comfortable! Do you know how many times I've gotten toe cramps, pressing the far-away pedals on road trips? Ugh..

Eventually I had no choice but to kick Kathrine and Harmony out of the van so that I wouldn't be late for out homeschool Coop. On the way there, enjoying the luxury of pedals I can reach, I decided to give the cruise control a shot. And it was good timing, considering that every time I looked down on the smooth ride up 75, I found that I was already going 80! So, although I was already on the freeway, I decided to go for it as a precautionary measure against a speeding ticket. I glanced down to find that the controls were completely different from my 2006. No worried though, just like everything else they were better. Simple to control without looking at the owner's manual. Once again, not having to stop what I'm doing to dig up instructions is always an extra perk.
I pulled up to Coop right on time and jumped out of the driver's seat as the doors were all doing their job and opening at the touch of a button. I popped open seat belts for little ones and grabbed my laundry basket out of the back. As we all walked away, I pressed the buttons again and all of the doors closed and locked. Ahhh... so simple. I suddenly realized that Dodge and I are in the same business! Finding ways to help moms without surgically attaching a third arm.
Coop went smoothly, although assembly cut my class time in half. We rushed through the seven types of plastics and talked about ways to recycle plastics. I ditched the landfill info to use next week. No worries we had a great class even if it was rushed. I taught all of the kids how to cut their plastic grocery bags and make them into PLARN, which we then braided so that next week we can coil them into bowls. It'll be great.
After class let out for break time I headed to the car with my basket and found a few guys from the upper grades who were most interested in checking out the stadium seating on the van.

Oh yeah. I think this van just gave me "Hey, Miss Talitha is cool!" status.

I headed back to what is called the 'Chit-Chat' room to get to know some of the other homeschool moms. I've always wondered how I would fit in with homeschool moms in general. I'm not the average one. you know. First of all, I was homeschooled my whole life, so I have a completely different outlook on it. Also, I do believe I'm the only one there who enjoys being a driven business woman, and loves tattoos and nose rings. I was worried that they wouldn't know what to do with me at first. Kind of like people who don't know what to do when a mother is sitting there breastfeeding in front of them. They get all fidgety and nervous, not knowing what to say or where to look. But I've realized that the discomfort is typically there when someone is putting forth an image, or a show. Mothers who are breastfeeding in public to make a point put out a vibe of challenge. The vibe is what makes people uncomfortable. I'm happy to say that I'm quite comfortable with my nose ring, and have no intention of giving off a vibe.The fact that I will openly speak of sex with moms who may have never said the word, only spell it is not a challenge. That's where they are at and I respect that. I don't have a mission to challenge them. It's ok. I'm happy to say that I feel like I fit in well, yet stand out all the same. I'm really enjoying my time with the homeschool moms.
Anyway, conversations turned to the van again so a few of us headed out so we could see how adults would feel in the back captains seats. Super comfortable of course, and thrilled that they're heated along with the front ones!

After the second hour of classes let out I wrangled some of my students together for a photo. Quick pop quiz...How many homeschoolers do you see in this van?

And just for kicks, and since I had the chance to not be behind the camera for a moment...one with me and a ridiculous amount of sun..

My kiddos got jealous of course, since it is their van, so they took a pic with some friends.

So, after a lovely day I headed home. I need to write about Jacob's testing. I'll get to that for tomorrow. For now let me say that keeping an active 3 year old on liquids only is a hard thing to do. Thank God for Jello.

Here Comes The Ride!

2008-01-23T18:51:00.000-08:00

We made it through the morning of doctor and dentist visits. No signs of cavities in little teeth, although they were concerned at Selah's teeth being so spread and the callouses from how much she sucks her fingers. They are suggesting that we give it a good effort for a few months and then consider a permanent retainer that would inhibit the finger sucking. Unfortunately the retainer is NINE HUNDERED DOLLARS! (((faint))) Our cost would be $300 after insurance. We'll be working on other options first.

So back home we came and during naptime I awaited the delivery of 'the ride' while working on some Sugar Slings. All of the health issues of around here have gotten me a bit behind.

And at around 3:30 it came. It was a gorgeous color they call 'Modern Blue Pearl'. My first thought was that it must be a just a Caravan, because my Grand Caravan is quite noticeably longer. Nope, Grand Caravan it is and the differences between the two vans are night and day.

There's no way I can tell you about all of the features at once. Now I know why they gave me a whole 6 days with it! For today we just decided to take it out for a bit to get to know it. So I wrestled the car seats in and off we went to the post office. Putting the car seats was simple enough. I saw immediately that the swiveling captains seat were fabulous for helping Mom maneuver in the back seat. Jacob even got to sit in the back seat, which he was thrilled about, since I knew I would be able to reach back and buckle/unbuckle him easily. So, in they went and off to adventure...

Unfortunately, I left my camera at my parents house last week so I wasn't able to take photos. The drop off at the post office was quick and easy. I jumped back in the van and threw it in reverse. I was totally surprised to see the touchscreen in front of me suddenly change to show a clear view from the back of the van!!! No one told me about that one! I can't tell you haw many times I've thought of those stories where parents accidentally run over a child. Ugh. Yes, this is a good feature.

On to pick Travis up from the Marta Train station. Oh... his face when I drove up in my Pimpin' Mom-mobile! We headed up to Home Depot but decided we needed to measure some things before loading the van up. Not quite a waste of time, since we priced stuff. And we swung by Hannah and Dennis' apartment to pick up my camera!

We decided to let the kids try out the dual video screens so we popped them down easily and tuned to Serius TV Cartoons. They were mesmerized and Selah wanted so much to try out the wireless headphones. I figured we'd save that, since I wasn't quite sure what they were watching back there. Note to self, grab some DVDs.

This is almost as cool as those old conversion vans everyone raved about! Minus the tacky striping and oddly shaped windows. I much prefer the sleek sophisticated lines of the Dodge Grand Caravan, thank you very much! Travis was enjoying the smooth ride and commented more than once that it drove 'like a dang race car'. That's my southern boy :)

Of course, as an Audio Visual Engineer, he absolutely loved and appreciated all of the dodads and hooplah of the center console. He's always loved pushing buttons and this thing has ways to control everything you could ever want. Does everything but whip your, well, anyway...

We decided to think of a way to try out the table. I don't know why I'm so excited about that dang table. It's really not the most usable thing with how young my kiddos are. I suddenly had an 'Aha!!" moment. What better place than the Varsity!

We've lived a few miles from it for several years now and not gone once! There are good reasons for that, but overall it's an experience. We decided to brave it and have our food ordered from the van and brought to us to enjoy at our little table. So from the comfort of our plush leather seats, Travis made the order.

I must say the tray balanced perfectly on the do or. I wanted to roll down the window in the back doors and have the tray there. Trav wanted it all to himself so I acquiesced It was cold out anyway.

The kids thoroughly enjoyed the novel idea of dinner in the van without seatbelts. I sat in the back with them and it was seriously comfortable. I enjoyed being turned toward them and the table is at the perfect height. If only they were old enough to play poker we could have an amazing road trip!

And there was, of course, plenty of room to eat and play, regardless of it being shorter than my 2006

As is typical in this house, no pictures of me but the ones I take myself. But I have to say I love this one. The reason is that I was really not so sure that this van would be much better than mine, on the basics level. Sure all of the extra options are great but what if you're only interested in the basic? Well, this is a very simple basic feature but something that I have sorely missed in my 2006 Grand Caravan. The Oh Crap Handle is back!!! Yes!! I know I can't be the only woman who relies on this to keep my sanity when my husband drives.

Another favorite for today is how simple the LED touchscreen is to maneuver for a mom with no time to read a 900 page manual to learn now everything works.
So, with full bellies we had shy children ready to get out, even of this fabulous ride.

Through Atlanta we went, home again and ready for more adventuring tomorrow. Maybe we'll see how those headphones sound, or how many backpacks for coop can fit in the stow and go storage...

Who Likes Sex and Cars?

2008-01-22T18:58:00.000-08:00

I'll have both today, thank you. I sound like a nympho and a maniac, huh? Well, I got accepted to do a trial survey on condoms. With Travis, obviously. Can't talk about details because it is confidential, but I just had to brag about getting paid for sex. I think we just became prostitutes. Can't wait!!

I also last week did a survey on our auto, and was one of 50 women selected for a 6 day test drive of a new 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan!! It comes tomorrow and I'm going to be in the van every minute!. Just kidding. Yes. we are testing the van and condoms... but never the twain shall meet... ahem...
....

Ok, so last week I never got around to telling you about Jacob. Never took the time to sit down until I got sick myself, I guess. It started over the weekend. He's been complaining off and on for months that his bottom hurts. I've checked it and it seems normal. No bowel issues to speak of. We took him to the pediatrician a few months ago and they redid the Celiac blood panel to be sure that it wasn't that. Sweet guy didn't' flinch when his blood was taken. Just said "Look momma, my blood is in my hand now! It's not in my poop any more." Sad reality of a little 3 year old. He did just as well last week when they took is blood for some more testing. And this time she ordered a barium enema at the Children's Hospital. I'm so not looking forward to taking him to this. How do I keep a 3 year old on liquids only for 24 hours beforehand? Ugh... And I'm so worried that he'll be traumatized. My little man.
Tonight as I was giving him his bath I just looked at his perfect little body. It's so painful to see him writhing in pain. It's terrifying to see blood coming from him and not being able to figure out why. It could be something so small, but what if it's a huge problem? I just need to know my baby is ok.
I noticed this afternoon that he also has a rash on his bottom and I'm wondering if maybe he has a yeast infection? Lucas has gotten those a few times, but from breastfeeding. I'd be so thrilled if it was such a simple answer. I'm taking Jake back to the pediatrician first thing in the morning so they can check it out.

So, not much interesting to report today. Tomorrow will be busy. I have the DR appointment at 8am. Dentist appointments for all 3 kids at 10:50 and then THE VAN!!! It should be delivered between 1 and 4. Busy day ahead, must.... go... sleep...

The Bitter Homeschooler

2008-01-22T11:36:00.000-08:00

My Husband just emailed me this list and I couldn't stop laughing. Bitter, no... People are stupid and speak because they don't think. And I doubt this is a publication I would bother with...But yeah, I heard most of these growing up.

Enjoy...

The Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List
By Deborah Markus, from Secular Homeschooling Magazine, Issue #1, Fall 2007

1 Please stop asking us if it's legal. If it is — and it is — it's insulting to imply that we're criminals. And if we were criminals, would we admit it?

2 Learn what the words "socialize" and "socialization" mean, and use the one you really mean instead of mixing them up the way you do now. Socializing means hanging out with other people for fun. Socialization means having acquired the skills necessary to do so successfully and pleasantly. If you're talking to me and my kids, that means that we do in fact go outside now and then to visit the other human beings on the planet, and you can safely assume that we've got a decent grasp of both concepts.

3 Quit interrupting my kid at her dance lesson, scout meeting, choir practice, baseball game, art class, field trip, park day, music class, 4H club, or soccer lesson to ask her if as a homeschooler she ever gets to socialize.

4 Don't assume that every homeschooler you meet is homeschooling for the same reasons and in the same way as that one homeschooler you know.

5 If that homeschooler you know is actually someone you saw on TV, either on the news or on a "reality" show, the above goes double.

6 Please stop telling us horror stories about the homeschoolers you know, know of, or think you might know who ruined their lives by homeschooling. You're probably the same little bluebird of happiness whose hobby is running up to pregnant women and inducing premature labor by telling them every ghastly birth story you've ever heard. We all hate you, so please go away.

7 We don't look horrified and start quizzing your kids when we hear they're in public school. Please stop drilling our children like potential oil fields to see if we're doing what you consider an adequate job of homeschooling.

8 Stop assuming all homeschoolers are religious.

9 Stop assuming that if we're religious, we must be homeschooling for religious reasons.

10 We didn't go through all the reading, learning, thinking, weighing of options, experimenting, and worrying that goes into homeschooling just to annoy you. Really. This was a deeply personal decision, tailored to the specifics of our family. Stop taking the bare fact of our being homeschoolers as either an affront or a judgment about your own educational decisions.

11 Please stop questioning my competency and demanding to see my credentials. I didn't have to complete a course in catering to successfully cook dinner for my family; I don't need a degree in teaching to educate my children. If spending at least twelve years in the kind of chew-it-up-and-spit-it-out educational facility we call public school left me with so little information in my memory banks that I can't teach the basics of an elementary education to my nearest and dearest, maybe there's a reason I'm so reluctant to send my child to school.

12 If my kid's only six and you ask me with a straight face how I can possibly teach him what he'd learn in school, please understand that you're calling me an idiot. Don't act shocked if I decide to respond in kind.

13 Stop assuming that because the word "home" is right there in "homeschool," we never leave the house. We're the ones who go to the amusement parks, museums, and zoos in the middle of the week and in the off-season and laugh at you because you have to go on weekends and holidays when it's crowded and icky.

14 Stop assuming that because the word "school" is right there in homeschool, we must sit around at a desk for six or eight hours every day, just like your kid does. Even if we're into the "school" side of education — and many of us prefer a more organic approach — we can burn through a lot of material a lot more efficiently, because we don't have to gear our lessons to the lowest common denominator.

15 Stop asking, "But what about the Prom?" Even if the idea that my kid might not be able to indulge in a night of over-hyped, over-priced revelry was enough to break my heart, plenty of kids who do go to school don't get to go to the Prom. For all you know, I'm one of them. I might still be bitter about it. So go be shallow somewhere else.

16 Don't ask my kid if she wouldn't rather go to school unless you don't mind if I ask your kid if he wouldn't rather stay home and get some sleep now and then.

17 Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.

18 If you can remember anything from chemistry or calculus class, you're allowed to ask how we'll teach these subjects to our kids. If you can't, thank you for the reassurance that we couldn't possibly do a worse job than your teachers did, and might even do a better one.

19 Stop asking about how hard it must be to be my child's teacher as well as her parent. I don't see much difference between bossing my kid around academically and bossing him around the way I do about everything else.

20 Stop saying that my kid is shy, outgoing, aggressive, anxious, quiet, boisterous, argumentative, pouty, fidgety, chatty, whiny, or loud because he's homeschooled. It's not fair that all the kids who go to school can be as annoying as they want to without being branded as representative of anything but childhood.

21 Quit assuming that my kid must be some kind of prodigy because she's homeschooled.

22 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of prodigy because I homeschool my kids.

23 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of saint because I homeschool my kids.

24 Stop talking about all the great childhood memories my kids won't get because they don't go to school, unless you want me to start asking about all the not-so-great childhood memories you have because you went to school.

25 Here's a thought: If you can't say something nice about homeschooling, shut up!

From http://www.secular-homeschooling.com/001/bitter_homeschooler.html

Free Sample- Quaker Simple Harvest

2008-01-21T18:05:00.000-08:00

I'm a steel cut oats kinda girl, but I've heard this is really good. Just thought I would share the link to a free sample :)

Free Quaker Oats Simple Harvest Sample

Daddy Dearest

2008-01-20T18:09:00.000-08:00

I suppose it's apparent at this point, if you've read some of my older postings, that my family is quite dysfunctional. I say that with all honesty because I truly think every family is. If a family were to exist that was NOT dysfunctional, would that not be so far from normal as to qualify as dysfunctional after all?
I have a fun little way of describing my family. You have to start by closing your eyes and picturing My Big Fat Greek Wedding because, we're loud, obnoxious and shamelessly embarrassing. Now, I'm not done! You have to add a bit of The Royal Tennenbaums. All Fowlers are quite dramatic, extremely competitive, emotional and true geniuses (but only in our own minds) For example, me hacking away at this blog, pouring my thougths out for no one in particular. Is anyone reading this? Now, to top it all off you must include the odd dynamic we have of all trying to look perfectly happy, united, umm... and black. Therein lies the Cosby Show connection. Yes, yes... we all believe in some deep secret connection to Africa, hidden somewhere by racist relatives. It's the only way to describe your hair, our awesome big butts... and our jive...
So, as you can see, my family is quite complex and Multi-facetted. Add those three families together and you make it up to our count. Let's see there were 2 Portokalos children, 5 Huxtables and 3 Tennenbaums. Add 2 parents My mom would be a Portakalos, my dad a mix of all 3 fathers. There you have it, a family of 12. A complete mess of love and hate, joy and pain.

Way, way back I wrote about confronting my father on his anger. Kelly added a comment recently that had me thinking. That was 3 years ago and things have changed. Most of it you can see in my big ol' update from the beginning of the month, regarding my family over all.
But my father, I think he deserves honorable mention. That day I confronted him about Selah, something changed him. My dad crawls into a shell when confronted. And he isn't confronted often. I really believe he was unaware of his anger and just didn't get the effects of it. But since that time I've seen him struggle to restrain himself. He's screwed up a few times. He's also made me so proud when I've seen him walk away instead of rage, or tell the parents of a child if they needed discipline (instead of assume responsibility for it when it wasn't his).
I'm the big warrior in the family, if you haven't seen that already. I confront on everything, refusing to give up on our potential to grow. That's how I am in life. I don't pretend things are OK. I refuse to even keep rugs. No fake fronts to brush things under. What you see is what you get. No secrets here. So here I am the one, the only one, who has confronted him time and again, challenging who he is and begging him to be better. Writing him letters of painful memories, begging him to recognise the consequences of anger and abuse. I've long felt that he deserved to be honored for the changes he has made.
I know he feels that we all go to out mother for everything, that we love her more, that he's not important. He tried so hard to be fun and cool, not knowing how else to pursue relationships. He's too afraid of the 'deep'.
Well, me... not so much. I'm all about 'deep' and about sharing it. His 60th birthday was this weekend and I wrote him a long sappy letter.
Yes, I still have boundaries. My father never has and never will be left alone with my children. It's just as unfair to him as it would be to them. We will always be there, to be sure that nothing gets out of hand to scar innocent little hearts that see Pappaw as a hero. That's the way it should be, and I'm protecting him as much as them. They deserve a magical relationship. Yes, something could happen. Yes he could lose it. He could hurt my child's heart or at worst yank an arm and make it sore. Yes that sounds like a crazy risk. But I'll be there to call him on it however I have to. And my children are confident and strong. We can handle the risk. If at any point I don't feel that it's safe, I have no problem pulling the plug.

So, Kelly, here's how I feel about my dad now. Not a direct answer, but maybe helpful. The letter I gave my Dad. Grab a cup of coffee, it's long...

Dad,
It’s amazing how uncreative I am when it comes to getting gifts for you. Completely incompetent. Mom is easy, books and girly stuff. Simple as pie. So then I thought…pie. Always pie for dad. Gooseberry pie, licorice or dark chocolate. Chocolate covered orange peels. All so boring and redundant. Why is it the only thing we can come up with for you are these few things to eat? And, in the end would you rather have the boring collection of ties for gifts?
So while this is an inexpensive gift, it doesn’t come cheaply. I’ve written you letters in the past that have been full of raw pain and disappointment. I remember the first time I wrote was to get permission to go to Magic Mountain with some silly boy when I was 14. A letter full of reasons why I was so mature and worthy of trust. You listened and allowed it. Ironically quite a miserable day and I still feel ashamed at times for breaking that little boy’s heart. I wrote to you when I slit my wrist, just after turning 15. That letter was thrown out before I ever let anyone see it. But most of the letters I wrote were full of hurts and painful memories, begging for validation.
In the past few years I’ve written you a few letters or been more bold in actually sitting and confronting the issues, now as a woman and a mother fighting for the hearts of her children. I’ve seen you differently over the past years, as you’ve sometimes cowered at my boldness yet other times looked me in the eye with tears and open brokenness. I see now what I couldn’t see through the anger and confusion of youth.

In this letter I again want to share my heart with you. Dredge up old memories, some painful and raw, but the purpose here is not the same. This is meant to be quite a different letter.
My earliest memories are all muddled together and I’m not sure which comes first.
I remember music. Stretched out on the floor on Sunday afternoons in a sun puddle from a nearby window, I soaked up the warmth and the sound of your guitar and voice at the same time. ‘Puff The Magic Dragon’ and ‘Where Have All The Flowers Gone’ shaped my soul and my love for music. It drew me to a man whose heart beats to music. You taught me to soak in the music. Thank you!
Up the ladder I went at just 4 years old, driven and brave. Still, I can close my eyes and remember the confidence of knowing my dad was there in the deep end. Waiting to catch me as I went off the high dive. Four years old, unafraid. I dove right in. I believed you would catch me. I trusted. And I’m still always the one to dive right into things. Fearless. Thank you.
Marshmallows. I still love them, just for the memory. So many people see camping with young children as such a daunting task. Not you. I have countless memories of adventures in the woods. I was Pocahontas. I could take on the world. I could learn to put up the tents right there with the boys. I could learn to leave a trail with stacking stones. That’s the kind of girl who can grow up and live out of a tent in South America for a month with out batting an eye I could glory in adventure. I could be a part of God’s gorgeous nature. Thank you.
Many times I’ve seen men crumble in defeat and fear over the loss of a job. Not many men have to bear it for so long and with such intensity. And twice. I know you felt it. I can not imagine the pressure of providing for 10 mouths when there was nothing. The attack on the spirit of man created from his core to provide. You kept sending the . resumes, even after a year. You held, determined to see it through. You didn’t buckle or break. Thank you.
I remember the confusion and fear when we all could have died in the van accident in New Mexico. You weren’t there. The next day we rode the train to Los Angeles and there you were, finally. We all got in the car and you drove us through the city showing us beauty, making it all ok. Then for some reason a few weeks later I was allowed to ride back with you on the train to get the van. I felt like a princess. I think some of the other kids went too, but all I remember is you and me. I know that I got to ride in the front seat of the van back to Los Angeles. The weather was wretched in New Mexico, yet as we approached the border of California a miracle happened. I remember it as vivid as it was yesterday. Just as we got to the state line. There, running as far as I could see in either direction, parallel with the sign that welcomed us to California. The shadow of the clouds on the earth broke in a perfect line and there was only sunshine ahead. Sunshine and hope. A precious memory..
And it was all sunshine for awhile, until that company fell through, too. In that time I learned determination. I saw you take jobs I never knew you could do. Construction, painting, anything. I remember the awe of being able to ‘go out’ to Taco Bender and get a burrito because I was out working with you one day. Not even a McDonald’s visit in as long as I could remember. Who could afford to feed us all eating out, WITH a job even! It’s the best burrito I ever ate in my life. I still think about it. A special alone time with my dad.
Sacrifice came as things got worse. I remember Thursday morning as the food ministry, helping other needy families to the best of what was there first then taking home what we could. I remember being heartbroken when there was nothing left to do. I remember the look of defeat the day you came home with bandages on your arm and $20 to buy groceries. It’s the only time I remember you showing it so clearly. It shook me. That’s when I started leaving what little babysitting money I made on your dresser, or hiding it in mom’s purse. I could sacrifice for my family like my father. Again, humbly. Thank you.
And the night you came home to find me with bloody wrists. Tired of being torn between my age and my responsibility. Tired of being just one of ten, yet feeling like the only one of ten trying to do something about it. I was fine. I had ‘changed my mind’ and cleaned it up, not knowing that the neighbor was at the door and was going to tell you. You dragged me down stairs and yelled at me till 3am. Of all ironic things. You grounded me for the first time in my life! Crazy way to react to your 15 year old trying to end their life. But you know what’s crazier still? It gave me hope. From a man who didn’t show much emotion other than happy at church dad or extreme anger dad, I saw fear for me, I saw care for me. I saw you ready to as a warrior for me. I was more than just one of ten. It was almost instantly healing. I was ready to stand back up and fight some more. Thank you.

There’s so much more. I’m cutting myself off at the early years, only because I’ve sent you so many accusations from those same years. You are so much a part of who I am. In your mistakes and your triumphs you’ve taught me. I once heard someone say that true forgiveness is when you can look back over the pain and feel thankful for it. Thankful for the experiences that made you who you are. And, most important of all, not wanting to ever go back and change a thing. Like all parents, you’re flawed. It’s God’s plan. Dad I love the things I’ve learned from you. The good and the bad. All of it molded together to make me the woman God’s created me to be. And I couldn’t be without it, or without you.
So for your sixty years of life, I am ever thankful. I am thankful for amazing changes I’ve seen in your heart over the past few years. You blow me away. I love you. Thank you for the music, the fearlessness, the adventure, the determination, the hope, the sunshine, the time, the sacrifice, the warrior, and most of all the love and memories that sometimes I couldn’t understand.

Happy birthday, Dad.

I love you forever,

Strep Throat Brings Beauty Full Circle

2008-01-19T14:43:00.001-08:00

Hmm.... my dear husband is a wise man. To think if he hadn't insisted on my trip to the doctor, who would know that I had strep throat? I've never had it before and I will NEVER again look at someone who says "I had strep last week.' and assume it's no worse than a little cold.

And I'm convinced that there is a distinct purpose to my being sick and no coincidence that it's something quite contagious. I won't leave the house and I've stayed away from my own children. No martyr will risk someone else. I'm so predictable. God's such a genius when it comes to handling us. Due to the diagnosis I obeyed the husband's, ahem... I meant Doctor's order to stay in my room. I chose to read 'the book' I've been avoiding, like I said, for 3 years. Almost to the day, I suppose.

Three years ago I had a tiny little three week old Jacob. Travis was doing anything he could to find extra work and odd jobs, since he had lost his job. I was in constant pain both from my unexpected c-section and the car accident that had injured my back to cause the need for said c-section. Our relationship with his family was strained and painful. We felt very alone, yet were daily working out completely relinquishing our control and trusting God. Such a hard time, but I would go back and change it for anything.
My mother gave me the book Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge in a stack of books since I had asked her for something to read. Twice I tried to get through the first chapter only to crumble in tears and agony, my heart unable to take on the challenge to even consider such a possibility. Me... captivating...
You see, my husband was in a bitter battle over addiction to pornography. (go ahead and click the link. You KNOW I didn't put porn there!) The battle had been raging for years, but I had only known about it for a year at this point. I was so proud of him for his honesty, and the fact that he was stronger and winning! Yet, it was a bitter time in the struggle. And as much as I knew the truth that it had nothing to do with me, it wreaked havoc in the mirror and what I saw there. So, basically not a time that I really could imagine myself anything remotely resembling anything...captivating.
So there the book sat. I've let several people borrow it over the past 3 years, actually. I always tell them it's a great book and it will change their lives. I knew that from others, so I wasn't lying. I just couldn't ever find the energy to allow it back into my heart. I had to survive.
Well, to be honest I have another friend I want to lend the book to. This woman is precious. But she's broken and aching. She's so special to me and I know that God wants her heart. He had mine, and he hadn't complained much about the scars yet. I guess this time I felt like I should read the book before I give it out again. Which, to be honest, is why the book is still on the shelf when I meant to give it to her two months ago.
Finally under quarantine threats of idle hands, off the shelf it came. I mean, I was going to be miserable while sick, and I was acutely aware that I will be miserable wreck when I read this book. There goes Talitha. The unconventional multi-tasker takes on the two at once. ( and you thought I'd be knitting a sweater while I was sick) Why be miserable twice?
To be honest, I'm not going to write a full review. The book floored me. I cried in anguish, I reveled in peace. I ached in mourning. I sat in awe as it began to dawn on me. I blushed as I realized the truth. My heart raced as the truth set me free. My heart grew into something I've never known. No longer a cliche, the truth is about each of us.
I am beautiful, lovely to the core. I am cherished and precious. I'm a warrior, and a princess. My heart is of immeasurable value. No one has to tell me. I don't have to prove it or fake it.

I just AM captivating.

I can't imagine ever feeling the same again about myself. For the love of God, go! Get the book!

Misery Makes a Visit

2008-01-18T13:26:00.000-08:00

I woke yesterday morning quite miserable. I was in no way interested in missing the first day of the winter quarter for our homeschool coop. I've been anticipating teaching my 'REsourceful REusables' class to the 3rd-5th graders for weeks. (I'll tell about it when I have the energy.) So, like the martyr that I always am, I went.
I made it through teaching my class, but just barely. Half way through I started feeling feverish and miserable. By the end of the class I just wanted to go home but I was waiting for a friend to meet me to pick up her Sugar Tai. So wait I did, as the misery spread. By the time I got home I had a fever over 102. Every inch of my body ached, down to my eyelashes. During the night I was wearing two long sleeved shirts, jeans, doubled up on socks and three quilts. Yet I was convulsing uncontrollably with shivers. I still felt chilled although I was drenched with sweat. At one point I distinctly remember thinking, half asleep, "How ironically stupid that I have waited until this week to apply for life insurance. I'm going to die and Travis will be broke." (don't worry, we already had him covered).
Today Travis actually stayed home to take care of the kids and I. I've NEVER asked him to do that EVER. To be quite honest, I didn't ask him today. He just stayed. My prince charming served me chicken broth and saltines and made lovely whole wheat pancakes for his children. He was a hero to more than just me, this morning. He called and made an appointment for me to see the doctor, knowing that I wouldn't do it myself. The appointment isn't until later today and I've been 'quarantined' to the peace and not so quiet of our room. I didn't leave the room, but ultimately there's no quite with all hardwood floors and 3 little ones locked in all day.
I'm taking the opportunity to finally read a book that, I'm ashamed to say, has sat on my shelf for 3 years. Maybe to the day, now that I think about it. Hmmm... off to sleep and read some more.

For Christ's Flake..

2008-01-16T13:31:00.000-08:00

I mean that in a good way, really. Last week, while lamenting over the missed chance to make Molasses Snow Candy while in Kansas (no recipe, unfortunately) Selah and I prayed a silly little "Dear Jesus, thanks for the rain last time we prayed. Now we want snow!"
Well here it is. The kids are napping. I've got Tori Amos playing and a big mug of organic Peruvian coffee from the Dekalb Farmer's Market. Outside my Studio window big gorgeous flakes of white are falling lazily to the ground, in hopes of finding a place to stick. Oh please stick! I'm so torn. I want to enjoy this momentary escape, yet I want to run in and wake up the kids to go see the awe on their faces! What to do... I'll finish my cup of Joe. Relaxing escape in a chipped red mug. After that we'll see where we stand.
So did you catch that? I called my office, workroom, whatever...my studio. Everyone who comes over keeps calling it that, so I may as well give in. Travis is going to ream me, after all of the fun we've poked about people calling some closet they have their computer in a 'studio'. (don't be offended. You know I love you!) Well, it is what it is.
Wait, I hear little feet! Ah, Selah! Off to go twirl my little girl outside and convince her our house has been moved inside a giant snow globe........
..............

Ahhh, The Things They Say

2008-01-15T13:54:00.000-08:00

So, last night Selah and I were talking about days of the week as she was getting ready for bed. Now, keep in mind she had her most matter-of-fact, 'I'm a big girl' voice out, as if she were a teacher....
Selah: Mom, if today was Saturday, tomorrow is Sunday and we will go to church."
Me: Yes, you've got it. And what days come next?
Selah: Mom, this is crazy! There's Monday, then Tuesday,(her tone is getting a bit frantic at this point)
then Wednesday, then Thursday, then Friday. (now high pitched and distraught)
And then, Mom, it's just another Saturday! It's just a big circle (throwing her arms about in a circle, wild eyed) and we have to stop this! Somebody has GOT to make some more days, Mom!!!!!

So, um....yeah... More day's would be FABULOUS, darling. And a few extra hours a day would be a great touch, too.

****************
Now, Jacob is a bit more whimsical with his thoughts this week. So as he was going potty the other afternoon...

Jacob: Momma, Does Popi have a penis?
Me: Yes, he does. He is a man.
Jacob: Momma, did you have a penis?
Me: No, my love. I am a woman. I have a vagina.
Jacob: (quite forlorn) I sorry, Momma. I LOVE my penis.
Me: Well, you're a boy, darling. You always will...

No More Boob

2008-01-06T17:43:00.000-08:00

It's official. My baby is no longer a baby. I feel so out of my element at the idea of no one else relying on my body for sustenance through either pregnancy or breastfeeding. I mean really. I am just 3 months shy of 6 years straight! My body is mine. What to do with that.
I'd like to find peace with myself. I look in the mirror and see features that are beautiful, but I doubt them. I look at my body and want to hide in shame. I have been told over and over that being a CONFIDENT heavy woman can be just as attractive. You know, I truly believe that, too. Maybe my problem isn't really with the way I look. Where is my shame coming from, then? Not that the image isn't involved but I know that's not all of it. I need to think on that for awhile. Maybe some revelation will come.
For now I’m happy to be embarking on a new phase of motherhood, reveling in the stages of discover and inquiry. I’m constantly amazed at the words that come out of their mouths. Priceless beautiful moments. Treasures for the taking. I would not trade them for the world.
But then sometimes I wonder how much I am trading it. I wonder if I’m stealing from my family. I love my business. I absolutely enjoy creating things, and I’m simply addicted fabric hunting. But is it a GOOD thing for my family? Is it a BAD thing? Sometimes it seems to be both. Am I selfish for wanting to do something? I love creating and designing things. I don’t know what I would do without that as an outlet. At times I doubt myself. I guess I tend to over analyze every thing and this isn’t an exception. I constantly question whether my business is a blessing or a curse. I guess ultimately it is both.
Despite attempts to find a business partner, seamstresses to hire and several other things. I can’t seem to get the business rolling smoothly. That is partially my fault. I do have one contracted seamstress working with me, if I haven’t completely blown it with her. All of the upheaval of the past month has uprooted any headway I’ve made as far as getting my business organized and running smoothly. I feel totally overwhelmed at the thought of pulling it back together.

Renewing The Committment

2008-01-03T12:38:00.000-08:00

My kids are all napping at the moment. I have to count my blessings on that, since all three of them will still take a 2-3 hour nap together every afternoon. They'll wake before 6 ready for dinner and play time with Popi. I love life.
Today is really my New Year's Day. We spent 14 hours in the van yesterday. Travis' grandmother passed away on Andrea's (trav's sister) birthday. So we drove to Oklahoma on Selah's 5th birthday (27th) had the funeral on Trav's 3oth birthday (28th) spent some time with family and drove home on Jacob's birthday. Yes, I am one exhausted woman, slightly disappointed at being cheated out of making 3 birthday cakes, and not having the time to get a party planed or gifts prepared. All in all, the birthday crew was thrilled with the surprise of snowmen and sledding for birthday gifts. All is well.
Since today feels like the beginning of the New Year I've been evaluating the last year in my mind, amid unpacking and scrounging for something to feed 3 little hungry people all day when the fridge is empty. Last year Travis and I made a commitment to purge our lives, asking God to clear out what His plan for us and holding us back. You can read about it here .

" We want to get back to a minimalistic, basic lifestyle with a focus on God. We've made a plan and resolution for this year that EVERYTHING we do must be purposeful, working towards peace, health (emotionally, spiritually and physically), and security for us and our children. If anything works against it in any way at all, we have to reevaluate the action, relationship, item, event, etc. or rethink the purpose and realign what we're doing so there is integrity and wholeness."

I remember wondering what would happen and what it would feel like to be standing on the other end looking back. I can tell you it's not at all what I thought. While my hopes for the whole thing seemed lofty and dreamy then, I look back at it with a clarity and a smile at how narrow minded and naive our expectations were.

We wanted:

a house of simplistic order
to regain control of our finances
to eat healthy and perfectly
Deepen friendships and family relationships
to finish work on our house to make it more livable

It truly is amazing how God gives you what you ask for in a completely different way than you expected. And if you aren't paying attention you'll almost miss the subtle changes that brought you to it.

1. In the last year I took at least 3 van loads full of things to the Salvation Army to donate, and was rid of about 3 van loads more in the 2 yard sales we had, one in the spring and one in the fall. So, we succeeded in having less and getting our home down to a more minimalistic type of living as we had hoped, but the bottom line is that we have 3 children. Life is full of unexpected chaos at every turn. So while the purging of things was a success, we've been shocked to find that it wasn't the real answer. Our 'simplistic order' has come from the blessing of a new job for Travis with a company that absolutely values their employee's home lives. A company that rewards his work with praise, respects his hours every week, invests in his education because they believe in him, and gives employees extra time off when they can, like the entire week between Christmas and new year paid off. I've learned to stay home and be still. Oh I'm still all over the place when I need to be, but it's not the same. God's given me a contentment with my house (although I'm still praying for that house not to sell, and it hasn't) and with what I have. I've come to enjoy less as more in the house, and in my 'free time' from the kids. I just don't feel this need to escape and prove that I'm still anything other than this. This is GOOD.

2.We were determined to get our money to behave. With his new job Travis is obviously making more money, and my little business that I started at the beginning of the year is taking off. But, as usual, with more money comes more reasons to spend. I have to say this Dave Ramsey Course has completely changed how we feel about money, and what it is for. Not to mention the fact that it's NOT EVEN OURS! It's God's money and we're responsible for being wise with it. I don't have this panicked feeling anymore. I thought we would have all of our debt paid off, our house built onto, our two good reliable cars.... We don't have all of the debt gone, but it's certainly going. The house is lovely the way it is. Contentment can be so much more fulfilling that more square footage, although I'm in love with my gorgeous new bathroom this year. We have only one car, the van, and I love that. It's streamlined our lives to keep us on track with our schedules. Travis rides his bike and the Marta train to work and can read his bible instead of fight traffic. Let me tell you, I have a much happier, peaceful man coming home to us every evening and I love it. I hope we never have to buy another car again!

3. Ugh, 'food' the beginning of last year was a pretty consuming topic. I was struggling to keep sugar-toxins-hormones-antibiotics-anything unnatural out, handle Jacob's allergies, try to lose weight for a wedding I thought I would be in. It took WAY too much of my time. In July, we had the typical 'Jacob' slip up during a family reunion. He ate something, somewhere and was covered with eczema and crying about his belly aching withing an hour. I broke. Whoever thinks I'm supermom must be out of their mind. I swear I was just ready to let the whole family starve rather than deal with cutting out all of the things he couldn't have. I buckled under the pressure and I was just DONE. So,not knowing what else to do, I prayed for deliverance, begging for him to be healed completely. Why hadn't I done this before? I don't know. I felt so guilty, knowing that some mothers have to deal with cancer and lifelong disorders for their children. These allergies seemed to small in comparison. How selfish of me not to simply handle it. How weak of me to not humbly bear the burden of something so simple as food allergies. Truly failed logic, I'm sure. Broken, I begged daily for deliverance for my son from the pain and for all of us from the overwhelmingness of it all. Withing a week Jacob was eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on regular wheat bread with a glass of milk. We even have blood work to prove that they are gone. I'm completely humbled by God's mercy in that, and overwhelmed that he found it a worthy request. For the record Jacob was allergic to dairy, wheat, soy, peanuts, baking soda, rye, tomato and yeast. It was a long 2 years. As far as eating all natural, I took a break from trying so hard and feel much more peaceful and less panicked about feeding my family. We'll slowly get back to eating more natural once all of our debt is cleared. And for the wedding, I was forced to take a stand that excluded me from participating. It was painful and devastating to lose a friendship so precious to me. I didn't think it would ever happen. That actually happened the same week as Jacob's allergies. I have callouses on my knees from how much they were used in prayer that week. I'm still the same size, as always. But I'm peaceful about it. I'm looking forward to spending some time on my health to be fit for when we are ready to add number 4 to the tribe.

4. Friendships. What a bittersweet subject. Family first. I started the year out very separated from my family. My parents were still not fully accepting responsibility for my youngest brother's actions with Selah. Hannah was pregnant with her dream little girl to name after my mother and, it felt, quite spiteful with it. Melissa couldn't acknowledge that she did anything wrong in attacking me while I was at the hospital with Lucas. It was all one big mess of pain.

So with my parents and Selah's therapist, we sat down to see if a discussion would open their eyes. Selah sat on the couch in my with her 4 year old heart open and told Grandma and Grandpa what Uncle Bobby did. I sat focusing on breathing so that I wouldn't vomit. Susan blinked repeatedly through tears as she smiled at Selah and praised her for being brave and talking. Travis' face was white yet strong. We all were moved. Yet my father sunk back like a deer in headlights and didn't way a word. My mother nodded and bobbed her head the whole time with a big grin at Selah and said "well, that was wrong, wasn't it? I'm sorry" as if reading it from a script she had planned in advance. It's funny, because it never occurred to me that I could just give up and and be done with them at that point. We could have. I just finally realized that I can't fix them. I looked at my father and saw the little boy who was beaten down with words and forced to perform and behave. He didn't have a clue how to deal with this. I saw in my mother the woman who spent every moment striving for the identity of perfect benevolence and all encompassing love to the point that she couldn't feel anger at anything evil or it would throw of everything she knew about who she was. She didn't know how else to respond. They just didn't get it. And I was shocked at the immediate feeling of empathy for them, making forgiveness and healing come quickly. The boundaries are another story, and will not be compromised. But for now, there is peace there.

Hannah and I could hardly speak to each other at the beginning of the year without a complete mess coming of it. There was so much misunderstanding and pain between us and so much comparison. I finally wrote her a letter stating that, short of counseling, I was not willing to continue a relationship that was so unhealthy. Even if we are sisters. I think it shocked her pants off. I met her and read the letter to her. She cried and I just told her that I was putting it in her hands to proceed. I've tried so many times to reconcile with her, and I'm not even sure what over. To my surprise I received a letter from her, in her own writing. I know what a huge effort that took, with the fear of writing she has from her dyslexia. I was moved. We went to counseling. I never thought it would happen. After all the times I told her we actually needed mediation to be sisters, she went for it. We still are very different. But I don't have the same sister I had a year ago and I'm so thankful. And to be honest, neither does she. I'm mush more understanding of who she is. I love her, Buckhead Betty and all.

I've chosen not to talk about the whole thing with Melissa. I feel like, once again, she has no idea how it feels. She was gone by the time hardships hit as kids. She was never forced to dig through boxes of rejected produce for food, or see my father come home with $20 for groceries because he sold his blood. She was able to make it untainted by any of the devestation. I love her and I forgive. Sometimes it pops into my head that she called me neglectful, not a christian, a bitch. It hurts. I know she snapped out of fear and shock. I just don't understand the stance she chose. And I don't have to. We don't agree, and we don't talk about it. I am completely confident that I did exactly the right thing for my child AND my brother, who desperately needed his life to change. I do have to say that it completely changed how I see her. We have so much in common, and I respect her in many ways. I enjoy our relationship. I suppose I just don't have that 'My big sister is so cool." feeling anymore. She's wonderfully human and fallible. I love her that way.

So, like I said I forgave. On the other hand I simply can't be at peace with how she would have handled the situation for Selah. She made it clear that she would have brushed it under the rug to protect my mother from trauma. My mother is not a martyr or a saint. She is a human that makes mistakes. Unfortunately SHE made a mistake and this happened. I will not let a 3 1/2 year old feel betrayed for telling the truth. And confused because nobody did anything. We handled it legally, yet appropriately to protect our daughter and for Robert to get the help he needed. She would not have done it. Her concern was for my mother feeling attacked, or being in question for her parenting. My concern was for the precious heart of a 3 year old, and the point of no return my brother was quickly approaching.

Painful as it was, Travis and I chose to have our wills rewritten to have the children go to some of our closest friends in the case of our death. Melissa and Cesar had been primary, but were removed completely as an option. I love all nine of my siblings, but I can't say with complete confidence that any of them would really have had the gutts to stand up against 'The Fam" and do what we did. Hopefully Travis and I will live and love long past the time where custody would be an issue. And our family will never have a reason to make decisions so severe again.

The house, well.. that goes back and forth. We had grandiose plans of doing so much this year, but we've done very little. Still I find myself becoming more and more content with what I have. We've redone the bathroom. Rearranged things over and over... I finally feel like it's at a place where I really enjoy my home. Things finally all seem to have a place. Children have learned to make their own beds, put away their clothes and they are still young enough to think it's fun... that won't last I'm sure. I'm still praying for the Niles Ave. house not to see, and it hasn't. But I'm not so anxious to move now. I'm more anxious to just be wise with what we have and wait on God to bring some great opportunity along.

So wow, that's an ungodly long post. But that's my year, in a nutshell. On to the next one. I'm renewing my commitment for growth, and praying that God gives me a year even fuller than the last.

So Thirty I Am, Without Much Ado

2007-12-01T13:01:00.000-08:00

Here I am. I'm thirty and still alive. I officially didn't marry Mac Powell of Third Day, thank God. It's Dave's fault, really. He got me to come hear his band play by telling me that the singer was hot, but that he was getting married. What was that? Crazy guy. Anyway, when I was introduced and asked him about the pending nuptials I found that there were none. I proposed out of embarrassment. What else could I do? I was 17 and added the stipulation 'if we are both single when we turn 30'. Didn't work mathematically, since he's certainly older than me. He has a beautiful family and I wouldn't trade mine for anything. So, all in all that's a good thing anyway. They are all awesome guys and I'm so happy for them and their success.
Oh, yeah. I'm thirty. It's a bit strange to say, but I like it. It never sounded old to me. It feels like the beginning of something better. An adventure in family... a take off into the unknown of becoming a woman. There's no 'girl' left, although I can be girlish at times. I think it's so stupid when full grown women consistently call themselves girls "I'm just a girl looking wistfully at the stars, blah, blah." It actually makes them look ridiculous, I think. I'm quite proud and comfortable to be woman.
I spent my day with my family, enjoying life. We went to the Children's Christmas Parade downtown this morning. We chose to ride Marta for no reason other than to let the kids have the experience of riding the Marta Train, like Popi does to work. They were enthralled. And then to see all of the floats and dancing on top of it. I got very happy kids for my birthday.
After the parade we went to get our Christmas tree. It was early for us, but Travis was going out of town this afternoon. If we put it off until after he gets home, something will come up and I'll be scrambling for a tree two days before Christmas. So tree hunting we went, and the one we got is lovely.
So we got Travis off this afternoon and I prepared for my 'Knit-in' with a group of moms from Atlanta Mommas . It's amazing the topics that can come up in a roomful of women and yarn. Especially when you mix size 35 needles with Nicole. Yikes, she can be dodgy! It was a good relaxing evening, with good cheap Two Buck Chuck to keep as all mellow.
So, I've been thinking over life, but I think I'll share more about that tomorrow. Today was just peaceful and full of family. That is my life, at 30.

Thanks and Full of it...

2007-11-20T21:30:00.000-08:00

I'm having a sad morning. This year so far has been full of surprises. So much amazing blessing yet plenty of the bittersweet and painful to keep us running for our Father's arms. While I spend most of my time amazed at all of our blessings, this morning I'm mourning some of the painful changes. I'm changing my focus. Thursday is thanksgiving. It's so easy to get caught up in the hoopla and commercialization of the holiday. Do you remember what it's about? Have you ever sat at the table with just five kernels of corn on your plate and wondered how they survived? Men, women, families watching each other slowly starve until they die. Willing to sacrifice all for the dream of freedom. Stepping out in faith and trusting God to carry them no matter what the cost, unaware of the depths of sacrifice he would take them to. It's not a story in a history book. It was real. It was tangible truth to those that watched it happen.And it's still happening. Everywhere. Families are watching their loved ones fly off into the sky not knowing if they will survive the war. Every moment spent wondering if they are safe. Every day watching the driveway for some mysterious car drive up with an officer in a cold military suit at your door to tell you the news.I don't care if this war is right or wrong. That's completely irrelevant to the families who are offering up their fathers, sons, husbands, lovers, soul mates and dearest friends in our defence. Each one is precious to someone. We go on and on pontificating about the validity of the war, while they take one day at a time just praying for the one they are without to survive. We're so self centered and pathetic.Anyway. That was a rant. Be thankful. Be humbled by the reality that most of us are completely oblivious to when we roll our eyes and say "yeah, whatever' every time our troops are mentioned. Who cares if you have the right kind of mashed potatoes on Thursday, really..

**********************************************************************

I'm thankful for the little arms that wake me in the morning anxious for discovery of a new day, and the way they've changed how I see the world. I 'm thankful for the honor of a real man who's heart is irrevocably entwined in mine. I'm thankful that we have enough to live in comfort and hope, yet just little enough to keep our trust and hope in the right place. I'm thankful for the friends who speak into my life and don't give up on me, regardless of my downfalls. I'm thankful for every person I see, knowing that their life has a purpose, too. I'm thankful and honored that chose me, and blessed me by making me, ME.

Then There Was Tom

2007-11-16T07:35:00.000-08:00

There are acquaintances. You see them at church or the grocery store and catch up for a minute but you both know that you'll never make the time for a cup of coffee together. There are friends. You call every now and then. You have dinner and hang out or go shopping and feel free to call on each other in an emergency. Tommy wasn't either of these. Tommy is one of those deep root relationship. Life goes on with short glimpses of time to reconnect. We never hear from them, but when I know they are ok the world is safe and as it should be. Whether he is in Germany or Kennesaw doesn't matter. He's there. We can get together once a year and it feels like we saw each other yesterday. Travis is in on it. There's nothing secret or covert about the fact that I love Tom as dearly as one of my own brothers. Half the time Tom and Trav talk more than I do anyway. He's just very special to me.
Having said that, I don't really know him anymore. He's very different and detatched. I don't really understand how he thinks and the decisions he makes, but I'm still here for him.

Anyway, Tom called on July 29th to tell me that he and Monica were back from Germany with the boys and that they were buying a home in Canton. I was so excited to have them back that I seriously almost danced a goofy jig. That was a happy short moment. Because the next instant he told me that he was off to Iraq in 10 days. So breath, be calm... don't freak out... I'm a miserable failure at hiding my emotions and I know my shock showed. We made plans to get the families together the next night and I hung up just in time before the tears and panic came.

I know, I'm a wuss and there are tons of men in Iraq who are fine. It just shocked me. I called Travis. When he got home he reminded me that Tom is an officer, a Captain actually. He wasn't going to be out patrolling the streets. I felt so relieved and ridiculous.

That was until I talked to Tom again the next day. I apologised for the freak out. I hadn't thought about the fact that he would most likely have a bland desk job out of harms way. The dead silence on the other end was NOT reassuring in the least. Not so much. Actually, directly in the way of harm, specially trained to, ugh....well, stay alive.

So I'm seriously in awe of how strong he is, and how excited. Monica is so great about it, too. I would be a wreck. It's just amazing how God takes people down different paths and they just seem made for it. Me, not so much. Their relationship seems to have been tough from the beginning. I don't know how they've made it this far. If he's going, he's going. I'm hoping that I can be a friend to Monica while Tom is gone. I can't imagine a year without my husband, let alone with two young children. The boys are precious. Unbelievably so. But still. I'm exhausted for them, knowing how long the next year is going to be.

So, anyway. I'm very emotional about it. I have a picture of Tom when we were teens on the fridge, and the kids are praying for him with me every day. So, a long year it will be.

Friends

2007-11-15T14:26:00.000-08:00

It is such weird thing to have kids, and your friends have kids... and the kids play so well...like when you were kids.. bizarre, really.

We went to David's (Tom and Monica's son) birthday party. It was happy. I felt tense, but everything seemed fine. Tom looked like a hero. Monica looked beautiful. They boys are adorable. I guess it's going to be fine, right?

Anyway, Selah and Jacob just love David and Nicholas so much. They had a great time together. Thought I would share some photos.

Opening presents is always the highlight of the party...

My Selah The Strong

Monica looks so pretty here. It makes me happy.

Monica and Me, becoming friends, I think...

Tom The War Hero and Tally The "Practically a Pacifist" What weird friendships I have...

Cursed

2007-11-12T15:01:00.000-08:00

So what to do with this. Really. I’m at a loss.
I’ve been looking for some ladies that I can contract to make straps for my website. It’s been very difficult. The first person was a friend who helped me set the prices. They sounded fair. She said what was reasonable, I said great. Last week I gave her a stack that I desperately needed done. She handed them back two days later undone saying that she didn’t have the time after all, and that it wasn’t worth it for so little money. Confusing.
Someone from my church referred a grandmother to me who already works but is raising her 3 grandchildren on her own. Loves to sew and could use some extra money in the evenings. Sounded good. She came over and was just a lovely person. I enjoyed every minute with her. But she wanted to be paid $15 an hour and some assurance of steady work. Umm, not with this, yet…
By this weekend you can imagine I was pretty frustrated, getting behind on orders and had committed to doing another yard sale. I got a call from someone who had heard about it from a mom in my homeschooling coop. She sounded perfect. Like an angel waiting. It was a little awkward because she did not have Internet or a cell phone. Said they were too stressful and couldn't have them in her home. I could handle a little inconvenience in communication, assuming that she was reliable. I scheduled for her to come today and spend several hours sewing with me to get caught up.
The yard sale was at my mother's house and it was mush simpler for us to all spend the night there. I took my fabrics and machine to work away in the evenings. As usual I got caught up in girl time with Hannah and Naomi and didn't do as much as I needed. Yesterday afternoon we headed home, and I knew I really needed to get crackin'. As we got home I rushed in and started setting up immediately, when I heard a crash behind. I turned to look out the back door to see Travis coming through it with a look of horror, cursing badly designed sewing machine cases. In his hands, my machine cracked through the body. I plugged it in and it was a mess. I took a breath and chose composure.
Luckily Mary had mentioned having 2 great machines. I had one back up so I simply called her and asked her to bring one of hers to sew on. I told her what happened and she said she could absolutely bring her own machine. And that she would pray for me. She is apparently a very devout Catholic because, like several other times I have talked to her, she was on her way to church.
I put it all out of my mind for the evening an enjoyed some time with my husband last night, instead of rushing to my machine.
I woke this morning feeling confident that we would make headway. Mary has been sewing for 35 years. Surely we can breeze through. Um, not so much.
The phone rang at about 8:15 as I was clearing the table and setting up my cutting mat. I answered to find Mary at the other end.
Ok, I know that I don't have the words exactly as quoted. The conversation was so completely unexpected and bizarre. I've done the best I can with it.
Me: Hello.
Mary: Hello, This is Mary. I was just calling to tell you that I am not going to be able to accept the work you've offered me.
Me: I expected you would be here in a few hours. Have you been offered a full time job somewhere? You mean you aren't coming today?
I knew she had been unemployed for over a year, so maybe that was it.
Mary: No, I haven't found a job yet. I feel like I need to ask you something. Do you have a buddha shrine in your home?
We had spoken several times about religion, so she obviously know I was a Christian.
Me: A what? Definitely not. We did purchase this house from a couple who had a buddha shrine in the house.
Mary: Well, during prayer at church last night, I prayed for you and your business. God showed me that there is a Buddhist spirit on your house. Do you know any Catholics that can get you access to holy water? You need to have a priest come pray the prayer of (can't remember who). Make sure you open all of the doors and windows and get your children out of there!!
Me: We have had our home prayed over, and that spot specifically was prayed over.

She rambled on a bit more and then hung up. I'm shocked. As I said, I'm at a loss.

My instinct tells me that God did show her something. The fact, that there is a cubby that was built into the wall specifically for a buddha shrine when we bought it, and that this woman has never been to my house, cannot be overlooked. We have had some seriously hard circumstances in this home. Is it all because of a spirit hovering to destroy us? Of course it is. Satan doesn't want to see anyone who loves the Lord prosper. Not sure that it is all on account of buddha.

What I do not understand, is that she obviously was not coming because of this revelation. If God gave her this information, didn't she recognize he chose her for a reason? Doesn't she have some responsibility to act? When she asked if I knew any Catholics, I should have said, I know you. Part of me wants to call her back and confront her on that. Also, if she is so strong in her faith and so grounded in prayer, shouldn't she feel completely safe from the threat of some measly spirit? I don't know her past. Maybe she has some specific reasons in her history that she is not able to deal with this, and judging her heart it not mine to do. I just seriously question her fear. And her actions.
We'll call 'the guys' as we all call the pastoral team at Trinity I know they'll be up for a good ol' spirit ousting. I just feel shocked and overwhelmed. And still VERY behind.

Praying For A Miracle

2007-11-05T16:08:00.000-08:00

So, there's this house. It's perfect in size, location, yard, color, brightness, EVERYTHING. Well, everything except the $268,000 price tag. Sigh....

I've been struggling with wanting to move. I know if really stresses Travis out and I feel so bad. I'm thankful for the house we have and I just don't know where else we could go outside a 3 mile radius and still live the way we live. I LOVE that we are surviving and actually ENJOYING having one vehicle. It makes us much more purposeful with what we are doing with our time and coordinating what we can do together as a family more. I love being close to the church and about the same distance from each of our families. I love our neighborhood, the good and the bad of it. I feel so lucky with my pocket of peace inside the big city.
The problem? Our house is 1100 sq feet. Smaller than many apartments. Two bedrooms, one bath. It's livable and I'm thankful for it, but I know that we can't stay here indefinitely. We have all three children in one room and no way of changing that as Selah gets older. While I am absolutely THRILLED with how busy Sugar Sprouts is getting, the setup is wearing on my family and it feels impossible to contain without a separate space for it. We can do it, and there are certainly people who have it worse off that us.

But this house for sale.. It's in our neighborhood so we could stay where we are comfortable. It's off of the main street, where we are now, so we wouldn't see 20-30 homeless men walking by ever morning. Not that they've ever been anything but respectful to us but others on the street have had incidents. It has FOUR BEDROOMS!! Can you imagine??? A boy room, a girl room AND a sewing room. Is has a fenced in yard and a better driveway. A pretty porch on the front, unlike the death trap attached to the front of ours.
So, I've been secretly praying that their house doesn't sell for a month now. I know there is no way that we could afford that. Well, unless we want to be completely irresponsible and impulsive in the purchase but I've seen that bite others in the butt. No thanks. But what if it sat for a year? And in that year we could save enough for a good down payment and fix our house enough to get a good profit? It's possible, right? And then they would be desperate to sell and take $230 for it? If we could have $50,000 between our sale and a down payment and get debt free (which we are close to) then we could do it!
And if not, in the meantime I know that God's going to provide somewhere we can settle in with this growing family. I just need to be patient. I guess the bottom line is that the possibility of this house for sale gives me hope. I'm not married to the idea. I'm just enjoying dreaming about it.
In the meantime, my poor neighbors sale is being prayed against. Poor things......feel free to join in and pray with me...wink,wink....

The Lizard of Boz

2007-11-02T05:30:00.000-07:00

That's what my little crew called it, and they were determined to dress the parts. So, this momma stayed up until 3am the night before sewing her little heart out.

Selah really wanted to be Glenda cut wasn't comfortable with the 'witch' part. That's my girl. Instead she was the perfect, ummm... Dorafeet...

The Tin Man was not interested in keeping the funnel on his head, or sitting still long enough to get a good photo

The scarecrow, in copying his big brother, enjoyed throwing his hat off again, and again, and again....

Their cousins, Anna and Samuel, blended in quite well as the Lion and a green version of Glenda? Well, she was Fiona from Shreck, but we pretended...

We went to Mount Paran Church Of God that evening for their fall festival. The kids actually won part of the costume contest, which made this sewing momma happy. I was so shocked that it didn't occur to me that I should get a picture of them getting their gift cards to Toys R Us. Which, yes, means at some point I have to walk into that dreaded place to use it. Ugh...

So, yeah I guess many people would expect that I would ban Halloween costumes in my house, since I ban Santa, the Easter Bunny and the rest of their crew. Ironically I don't feel so strongly about this one. I think that we too quickly jump to calling things pagan and evil without looking at them closely to see if they are transformable. That kind of is a spin off of my belief that Missionaries should NOT change native traditions. So many things can be adapted to glorify God. Pagan rituals may be wrong, but to people groups who have never heard otherwise they are a way of life. Wouldn't Jesus USE that instead of crush it. Wouldn't he teach them that the tree itself is amazing and they can rejoice in it's existence and just shift the worship to the maker that they now know?
Anyway, I'll leave that be for now. Although it may sound wrong, I feel like banning Halloween with your kids can really backfire. I do want to research it and find lessons I can teach them about it, like I did with Santa Clause. But if you take too much away they will become resentful and just crave a freedom that is dangerous. Costumes are a huge part of childhood and their imaginations will dull soon enough. I want their hearts to feel the weight of their play. Don't you remember that? When you could make believe so passionately that it felt like all other reality melted away and the playing was all there was? I've enjoyed every minute of this Lizard of Boz phase, and I'll be sad to see it go

2007-10-27T16:31:00.000-07:00

2007-10-19T20:59:00.000-07:00

The other night I heard Selah get up to go to the bathroom (she doesn't get up often) and I didn't hear her leave the bathroom. Poor baby. Not only had she fallen asleep ON the toilet, she had pulled her pants down to pee and not her panties. She sat, asleep, on the potty and peed through her panties! Thank goodness it was only pee. I had to really wake her up to get her to stand up.

Cuteness

2007-10-16T07:13:00.000-07:00

So, in doing the laundry lately I keep noticing that jacob has two pairs of shorts on. He is OBSESSED with shorts and always wants to wear more than one pair. Yesterday I had him ready for dance class and turned around and he had pulled on another pair of shorts over his dance shorts.

Me: Jacob, why did put more clothes on?

Jacob: But mommy, I need more shorts

Me: Why, JacobJacob: Betuz mommy, Papi wears MORE shorts.

insert maniacal little grin and two chubby fingers in the air

Jacob: Papi wears TWO shorts, mommy!!

I will now be spending the rest of the day sewing insanely tiny little boxer shorts for my adorable one. And to think I was about to get iritated about the extra laundry.

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The older two have been tromping around the house for two days as Dorothy and the Tin Man. Now, I certainly haven't let them see the movieand don't intend to anytime soon. I think they've seen a photo is all. If you happen to forget their new names they are quick to remind you of their assumed identities and no longer answer to their given names.

All of this over some confusion about the 'Lizard of Oz' and my children's ongoing obsession with cute little reptiles. I mean, what a wonderful land Oz must be, when you're off to see the Lizard....

Who could ask for better entertainment?

Who Was She, Really? This woman of Proverbs 31

2007-10-14T14:48:00.000-07:00

So, I've been thinking about this lately. A friend told me that she went to a marriage enrichment class with her husband and they spent some time on Prov 31. She was singled out and asked "What stands out to you about her?" Her answer was that she was a business woman, and that she obviously had servants. To her dismay she was confronted after the class for being disruptive to what they were 'trying to teach'. That the verses are about being a good wife and mother and THAT is what she should have seen out of these verses. She was told to go home and rethink her 'career' and how she parents her children.
So here's my first problem. I've never found a good way to describe it until now, but Travis found a book that really makes it clear to me. The bottom line is that I think people have the whole Bible wrong. It's treated as a recipe book or a magic formula that if we could just figure out the write combination we will be perfect Christians. If we keep analysing and marking our 'good deeds' on a list we'll make the grade. I don't think it works that way at all.
The Bible is a novel full of passion, pain, sacrifice, love, bondage and freedom. It was written to draw our hearts and make us fall in love with our Creator. Yes, there are obviously some clear Do's and Don'ts. I'm currently mourning a precious friendship lost due to a stand I was forced to make based on God's obvious will. But adhering to the rules should be a desire that comes as a SIDE EFFECT of the love affair of our soul with the one who Created it.
So having said that, I find the issue of the Proverbs 31 woman to be quite the opposite of other Biblical excerpts. Typically, I find that people will pick apart every word of every verse, tracing them back to the original Greek or Hebrew to unlock some mysterious intent. Not so with her. The description of Miss 31 begins in verse 10 and extends to the end of the chapter in verse 31. It's long and detailed. But every teaching I've heard focuses on less than half of the proverb. The parts where her husband praises her, her children rise and call her blessed. Charm is deceptive, to be sure, but that's just one verse out of twenty-two. These are the rewards and results of who she was. And who she was was more than these 22 verses tell us. That's what I want to find. Her heart.
So in these verses it is quite clear that she was, in fact, a business woman with servants. I don't intend to have servants. I wouldn't want them. I think I would panic if someone wanted to fold my laundry. Wait, I think I HAVE before more than once when it was offered. Sigh... I'm quite the mess.... So she spends every minute doing something productive. She doesn't wast her time, blah , blah...
OK, here is what I see. Miss 31 had a passion for life and everything in it. She was creative and loved beauty and found a way to express it in a way that would bless her family financially. She was wise, shrewd, bold, confident, creative in her art and in what she feeds her family ( I like that one). She was giving and had a heart for the poor and needy. She was passionate. Not many women back then had scarlet and purple clothing but she loved the beauty of color. She had no fear of the future but 'laughed at the days to come' as if to say bring it on! It talks about her husband being respected, but not necessarily because of her. I wonder if their marriage was so full of love that it was written all over their faces and their passion became an honor to him.
To be honest, I know that I can't live up to a list like that. If that's what was required, I wouldn't even try. I don't think it's healthy to use it as a checklist to work off of. What I do see is that this is the most clearly described woman of the Bible. This nameless woman who seems able to do anything and conquer all odds. My question is how did she get there?
This is what I believe. God called David a man after his own heart. I see these verses as the praise of a woman that God was well pleased with as well, so I will compare the two.
David was a mess. He was a murder, and adulterer, a liar. He wrote just as many Psalms of Angst and pain as he did of praise and awe. He groveled in ashes and was told to stop and be happy. He danced unabashed and was told to keep still. He was full of passion, yet made painful mistakes. Every time he fell flat on his face before his Creator. He poured out his pain as guiltless as his joys, knowing that his God was big enough to handle it all. And that he wanted it all.
Provers 31 is an epilogue. It comes after everything is said and done. Often to tell what does/will happen in the future. If we were to write an epilogue for King David it would be full of all of his victories and Triumphs. It would praise and honor him with every word. But there was more to him that that, to be sure. He was desperately human and flawed. Yet he never ceased to humbled himself and above all he NEVER EVER hardened his heart.
Miss 31 was what happened after. She was the reward to a son who heeded his father's word. That's what the Proverbs are all about, teachings to a son. She is the prize. And I'm OK with that. I would be honored and I WANT to be a reward to my husband and children. But I know that she had a life between the lines of this epilogue. She was passionate, full of trials and passion. I know that she was desperately flawed like me, and she struggled. But I believe she held her heart open to her God at all times.

So in my journey, I plan to work diligently with my budget, to be honorable with my business, to bless my husband and to raise my children as well as I can in my imperfection. I'll blog about my shopping. My findings. But I will be blatantly honest with my pain and struggles. As soon as something comes to mind I want to grab it and deal with it. That's what this is really about. Because I know that the bottom line is that Miss Proverbs 31 had an amazing heart. I'm doing the best I can to find my Creator in all of my trials and joys because ny heart wants to be like hers

I DID NOT WRITE THIS

2007-10-10T11:50:00.001-07:00

Someone emailed it to me and it struck a cord so I thought I would share (and put it somewhere I know it can be found again to read in the future)

GEORGE CARLIN (His wife recently died...)
A wonderful Message by George Carlin:The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildingsbut shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spendmore, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses andsmaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yetmore problems, more medicine, but less wellness.>>We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh toolittle, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up tootired, read too little, watch TV too much , and pray too seldom.We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talktoo much, love too seldom, and hate too often.We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've addedyears to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon andback, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. Weconquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things but notbetter things.We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered theatom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We planmore, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait.We build more computers to hold more information, to produce morecopies than ever, but we communicate less and less.These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men andsmall character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are thedays of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes.These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality,one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything fromcheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in theshowroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time whentechnology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either toshare this insight, or to just hit delete...Remember; spend some time with your loved ones, because they arenot going to be around forever.Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe,because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is theonly treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.Remember, to say, 'I love you' to your partner and your loved ones,but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when itcomes from deep inside of you.Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday thatperson will not be there again. Give time to love, give time to speak! Andgive time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by themoments that take our breath away.

Dear Ms. Anonymous

2007-10-09T07:42:00.000-07:00

So, there are 2 comments on my angry post "Stunted Growth" and I've been thinking about them. I thought I'd write out my thought since that's what I like to do.
First thought. I feel anonymous posting is rude and somewhat weak. It's like a drive by shooting. I actually posted an 'accidental' anonymous post on a friend's blog and sent her a message immediately to let her know that it was me. I had thought I was logged in. I hate the feeling of not knowing who this person is. Anyway, that's just my gutt feeling on anonymous. What was posted I am perfectly fine with responding to. There are many good points where I think I was misunderstood. I'm happy to have the opportunity to comment on that.
Second, I want to say that the reason that I chose to blog about it was because I had just had my eyes opened as to how this person had affected me. I felt that blogging was better than the potential of telling someone personally and turning it into gossip. My blog doesn't respond back and ask for more details. It doesn't give me any pity. It doesn't tell me that person sucks and I have the right to be this way. It just lets me get it out so that I can breath again and deal with it later.
So, first post was "Wow, this makes me so sad. So much bitterness is not good for the spirit or soul." Well, yeah it is sad and quite bitter. I realize that. Everyone feels sadness and bitterness and deals with it in different ways that may or may not be good for the soul. I've found my whole life that writing things out in all the passion that I feel is the healthiest way for me to purge. And it's also the best way for me to take a break from it and go back and study my feeling and decide how I need to learn, forgive, etc.... So yes it's not good for the soul, but all souls have it. I chose not to hide my realness, and I've made it public in the off chance that my working through things may help someone else in some way. Trust me, I'm not done with the topic. I know that I've got some work to do with it.
The second comment was quite long and I'm going to break it up a bit:
I find it hard to believe that one person can have so much control over your life. This control is only there because you let it be. She didn't have control over my life. She affected me. I spent years enabling her and now I have to deal with the affect in my own life of that energy that was spent, Just like anyone else who spends so much time with someone who has any disorder. She's sick. I took responsibility in ways that weren't my job because I wanted to help.
No one stopped you from your dreams except you. No one caused you to lose your passion except you. You need to stop giving one person so much control over your life and thoughts, of course except God. I'm sorry, that's a very humanistic statement. Yes, I chose to stop writing. It was an unconscious decision that I made at some point in the past and I discovered it the day that I blogged about it. So obviously the feelings were brought up fresh. The idea that I have the power over myself, my dreams and passions is false to me. Those are given and taken by God. He guides our paths.
"It almost seems like you put this person as a god in your life and let them dictate who you are and what you do." Not hardly. More like a crutch. I was trying to be loving and kind for years and it didn't help her. Like all addicts, tough love would have been the way to go.
I read your other blogs about being a Proverbs 31 woman. Would a 31 woman post this venom about someone else? I would have to answer that with a resounding ABSOLUTELY. I think the proverbs 31 woman was far from perfect and if she discovered bitterness deep in herself she would never be satisfied with just leaving it, throwing some 'Christian-ese' statements at it to make it go away. I think she would pick it apart and examine herself until she was free and Gad ha worked all that he could in it. My view of the the Proverbs 31 woman is quite different from the conventional housewife, helpmate. She was passionate and fearless. She was driven to take on whatever God gave her. Currently, God uncovered this bitterness in my heart and I am working on it as I think she would.

So, give me some time and I'll work this all out as God leads me. I'm not perfect. Just purging to be the best I can. Thanks for you comments. In the future please use your name.

Since I'm adding photos anyway

2007-10-06T15:38:00.000-07:00

I'm finally getting the rest of my posts finished off and photos added. While I'm waiting on the uploads, I thought I would add a few from our family photos last spring.

Home, Sick

2007-09-20T13:03:00.000-07:00

Don't worry. It is what it means. I'm at home, and I'm sick. Although I saw a listing on the Internet for a small farm for $100,000 and it made me feel homesick for a home I've never had. So funny. I've always lived in the city until Bolivia. The farms jsut call to me. I'm such a nerd. I don't know why I want the country so badly lately.
So, I've got a low fever, a headache and my lungs ache. I've been holding it off all week but today it's hitting my like a ton of bricks. My eyes burn like I've been sitting next to a fire for hours. I wish I were.
I finally got "The Total Money Makeover" by Dave Ramsey and we've read through the first half of the book. I like it, but I'm kind of disappointed. It's AWESOME for people who are just starting out on learning to take control of their budget. I like the way he writes. His budget outline is easy to use and he is very aggressive about.
We re-balanced our budget this week and it was exciting. All of these 'sacrifices' we've made over the past 9 months are starting to pay off. And ironically, they don't even feel like sacrifices anymore. We're enjoying this simpler life much more than we ever enjoyed all of the stuff that was holding us down. Every day feels free and challenging. We are living simply because we choose to. We are actually past the point where we have to do it to make ends meet. It's still challenging us. We love it

Ok, so I'm going to go post those 5 posts that are sitting here, and some pictures of the kiddos. Come back later!

Bye, Bye Love

2007-09-18T21:43:00.000-07:00

My couches are gone. It's bittersweet not because of them but of what they stood for to me.
I have this think about how my hosue looks, as I'm sure all housewives do. Did I just call myself that? Am I really? I think I'll save that for a future introspection.
So, Travis and I bought this groovy little 1918 bungalow in West Midtown about 4 years ago. Yes it was small and basically unliveable but we wouldn't want it any other way. Selah had just turned one and we were up to the challenge of turning this mess into our dream. Just half a mile from our church where I spent several hours a week planning events and such, it was perfect. Except for the fact that the previous owners hadn't seemed to clean it ONCE in the 8 years they lived there, smoking 2 packs a day, the floors were rotting and the bathtub was sinking into the crawlspace. We spent 2 weeks making it liveable and in we moved with plans to fix it up quickly.
Two months into our home we had our first 'marital issue'. Not bad to make it to our 3rd anniversary, but it was a big one. Ill tell you about it another time maybe. The point is that we had, well to be honest, AMAZING make-up sex. Yes, I did just say that. If shameless discussions of sex make you uncomfortable, you may not like my blog. It will come up since I presonally think it's one of the best things He gave us. Just a quick warning. So, God in his divine timing and amazing sense of humor supplied us with defective condoms and we immediately knew we would be pregnant and that it would be a boy named Jacob. We were and it was.
Along with #2 came Travis' loss of a job and many other things followed by a new job with him traveling and then our little Lucas. Busy, busy. So, here we are in a 2 bedroom little house with 3 kids and not much of anywhere for them to play. Now I get to my point...
We have a odd little front room when you walk in our front door. It was an open porch but Tweedledee and Tweedledum who did some construction on the house in the 80's (and also tried to burn it down for insurance money causing other issues we've had to deal with). So, Dee and Dumb slapped some panelling around the porch and some cheap linoleum tile over the porch floor and called it a room. The floor is slanted toward the outside of the house for rainwater to roll off still. Sheesh. I've called this my sitting room, although not much sitting is done there. Our house is quite seriously the ugliest on the block with cheap green vertical beach house siding and a green roof. An atrocious pitiful bit of a porch that looks like a captains lookout on a ship and stained peeling awnings that hang low knocking anyone taller than 5'4" on the head if they attempt to go out on said look out. I've been absolutely determined that the first think people see when they walk INTO the house is something that proves the exterior is lying about the Seibel's and that we actually do have taste and class. So the 'sitting room' held our gorgeous, vintage black couch set, a beautiful piano and a lovely coffee table. I didn't let the kids play there in case someone dropped by and got a glance in the door.
Well, we are homeschooling now and the kids are getting bigger and their things are pouring out of the little bedroom that holds bunk beds and crib. Something had to be done.
So, after several weeks of contemplating what is truly important to me, my children won. The only option for them to have a dedicated play space was for me to sacrifice my insistence on a pretty view through the front door. I posted my lovely vintage couches on Craigslist and they were gone within 2 hours. I was quite happy to get $325 for them, since we got them free and used them for 4 years. The kids spent the afternoon moving in trains and play kitchen. You'd think it was a holiday. It was so sweet to do together. And with the money I can buy shelves to organize and hopefully a table to do schooling in the new 'playroom'.
So now when you come to my front door the first thing you will see will be living and playing not sitting and pretty. And I'm happy with that. The kids are beside themselves. And shouldn't people see reality in my home? In the long run, this is who I am and my life is for my children.

Sweet Sixteen

2007-09-16T13:53:00.000-07:00

We moved to Georgia four days before my sixteenth birthday. I had spent a total of hours since my 1oth birthday picturing a spectacular 16th bash, with me as the star of the night. You don't get that kind of attention often, being one of 10 children.
I woke that morning to my mother standing in my new room with a Sam's Club bucket of Gummy Worms, singing "Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me. I guess I'll go eat worms." Looking back, I wish I could have been more lighthearted and enjoyed the joke. It was a rare occasion that she came up with something so clever. As it was, I was devastated and shamed by the mocking of my shallow teenage angst. The day went on with unpacking, feeding kids and changing diapers.
Then there was the traditional birthday dinner. Now that was a big deal. The one time a year you were guaranteed to have mom and dad to yourself was your birthday dinner. We were allowed any meal we wanted from a real restaurant! All of us understood, of course that we were never to ask for anything more expensive than Applebee's. I never even had the nerve to ask for that before. In California I professed an insane attachment to a local Mexican restaurant , knowing that all three of us could most likely eat for under $10 total.
But being new to the area, I panicked. I had no idea what to do. I was miserable and pouting, completely PMSing and in an area where I had no idea which restaurant would most protect my parents wallets. I felt sick not knowing how to protect them. I begged Dad to take me anywhere. Just chose for me. I couldn't do it. I didn't know how.
That presented it's own problems. You see, my father isn't particularly extravagant unless it comes to special occasions with his children. I know in his heart he would have given anything to have had the money to give us every luxury. Everyone has a love language and his is unquestionably the giving of gifts. Anytime he was able to give us anything extra, even a $.05 Fire Ball, my favorite because it was cheapest of course, his eyes took on a shine, his head lifted a little higher and his chest swelled with bride. I know without a shadow of a doubt that my father loves to shower his children with gifts, he just wasn't able to very often.
He came home from work talking about all of these nice restaurants. Places I'd never seen anywhere but on TV. Restaurants where Japanese chefs throw food back and forth, or pasta is made to your order. My panic deepened as I saw the bill getting higher and higher. Once he decided he that he was going to spend there was no stopping him, regardless of whether it could be afforded or not.
So in my parental inversion I attempted to save my father from himself. I changed at least 6 times and finally decided that if I wore a tshirt and jeans, he wouldn't be able to take us somewhere like that. I mean, how many times had I seen people on TV get kicked out of fancy restaurants for being improperly dressed? He would take us somewhere nice, a step up from McDonald's. I was sure of it.
Yeah, not so much. We grove around for what felt like forever. He was in his Super-dad mood. The one that came up so infrequently you were afraid to breath too loudly for fear it would burst like the bubble that some how rests on a blade of grass without popping. You know it can only last so long, so you hold your breath... The irony is that I feel responsible for the Super-dad. I see this giddy, vulnerable little boy in his eyes and I simply can't bear to hurt his tender feelings. It always gets me. I can't take away his joy in giving, even when it's clear there's no money for it, or time, or whatever the sacrifice may be. He thrives on it. I play along. He deserves the joy. He needs to feel prosperous. It's who he is.
We finally pulled into the parking lot of a place called Dave and Busters, just in time for me to reach the point of complete hypoglycemic breakdown. I was shaking and emotional, as I always get at that point. I should have eaten a snack. I should have spoken up and said "let's just try this place close by." But I was silent. I wanted the bubble to last.
So, hungry and near tears due to low blood sugar, I follow my cheerful parents into the Dave and Busters where we are to dine. I felt immediately out of place standing next to all of the businessmen with their cocktails and cigarettes. Choosing from the menu was a nightmare. I'm already incredibly indecisive about choosing food somewhere new. What if I hate it and the money is wasted? Then there is the cost. I found the cheapest item on the menu in under 10 seconds, but I had to be trickier than that. If I chose the true cheapest then Dad would know I was worried, but something 75 cents more? Now that wouldn't be so obvious, and water to drink please. I prefer it, really I do.
After dinner there were the games. Ugh. He wanted so much for me to enjoy, and I couldn't disappoint. I wanted to have fun, I just couldn't. He spent just enough for us to play a few games. It's like Chuck E Cheese. You get tickets for prizes. I purposely went for games I thought would not give tickets. I didn't want him to decided we needed lots of tickets for some cheap ball or toy. We ended up with 10 tickets, I think.
So with our few little tickets we approached the prize counter. You'd thing we were homeless or something, the way Mr. Counter Clerk looked the 3 of us with our 10 measly tickets. His disdain couldn't be more obvious. We didn't come for more tickets. We didn't WANT more tickets. I just needed something small to put in my memory box with all of the other napkins and trinkets from past birthdays. We were able to get 3 logo's buttons and a forest green balloon that wasn't blown up. I was so relieved when we were done and could head home.
On the way home we stopped at the grocery store for milk or something. I don't remember what. I worked up the nerve to ask for an 88cent box of Lil Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes. No one had made me a cake, so I thought it would be fun to have one. When we got home, I stuck a candle in the middle of one and looked at it for awhile. I waited, thinking that someone would come up and have a little traditional celebration with me, even if it weren't a real cake. They all Sat in the living room watching TV.
So, in a clever little display of teenage drama I walked down into the middle of the room. I did the unthinkable. I stood square in front of the TV, blocking the family view of America's Funniest Home Videos and I sang my own birthday song.
"Happy Birthday to me.
I'm turning 16.
I'm going to eat a Christmas tree,
'Cause nobody made a cake for me."
Yeah, pathetic and cheesy but it felt great. Perfect way to end the day after waking up to the worm serenade, right?
Ok, so why the heck are you still reading this pathetic story? Go do something. I just hit a stopsign on memory lane. I think I'm going to take a detour for a few days. This blog is sounding too depressing and that's not really me.

Stunted Growth

2007-09-13T13:37:00.000-07:00

It's pouring down rain. The windows are open and I'm soaking it all in. The sounds and smell of rain send me to a peaceful place where my heart aches for expression. Yet I continue to find myself guarded. I write posts all day long in my head. Letting myself de-stress by thinking how I will explain my day. Yet I have 5 posts here unpublished, because I never finished my thought. They sit.

Herein lies the problem. Just like dancing, I loved to write. I had lists of poems and stories that I was going to share with the world. I was more in love with a notebook and a ballpoint pen than any boy I ever crushed on. I could spend hours filling journals with the depths of my soul. Then, as with dancing, another move across country changed me.

We moved from Los Angeles, CA to Atlanta, GA the week of my sixteenth birthday. It was a good thing. I met the man who owns my heart that week. It's the first place that has ever felt like home.

Anyway, since giving up dancing, writing had taken up more and more of my time and I felt inspired constantly. I loved it. Then I met whats-her-name. We were so alike and so different. It was a bizarre friendship. I could fill pages full of intrigue from all of her lies and drama. I had better not. Just what pertains..

In her I saw how an imagination unchecked can ruin. It controled her, to the point where she really believes her lies are truth. Her dillusions of grandeur make herself her own biggest fan. It scared me. So many things about us uncannily similar, I didn't want any of that. I was terrified of letting my mind become equally as disillusioned.

The thing is, that God blesses people, and this girl had a phenomenal gift for manipulating words and moving peoples hearts and minds. She could wind a story around your head so tight that you didn't even know your own name, and you would give anything to her out of compassion for her dire straits.

She convinced Travis, my boyfriend at the time and now my husband, that I was sleeping with another guy. I was, in fact, very much a virgin at the time. She put bruises on her own arms and came with stories of her father beating her and throwing her across the room, breaking furniture. My parents let her move in with us to keep her safe. She used us, she lied to us. She hid a condom in the pocket of my jeans and left them on my parents bed, to what purpose I still don't know. When my poor father confronted me with it, I had never even SEEN a condom before. Good old homeschoolin' at work there.

Even in adulthood as a wife and mother, she continued her quest for fame. Every word out of her mouth was crafted for the stage of her own imagination, as if she was living life for the purpose of a dramatic and interesting autobiography worthy of a Quentin Terintino film. I think the poor girl watched "Walk The Line' one too many times and convinced herself that her divorce would lead to glorious ends. "In love with being in love." she says. Well, at best I think it could land her a spot on Jerry Springer.

Anyway, I spent 13 years believing she could change and giving her the benefit of the doubt. Last Christmas I was watching 'The Sixth Sense' on TV while Travis was out of town and the children slept. I'm always so upset at the part with the sick girl who's mother secretly poisoned her. Every time I've seen that I get ill. I can't imagine what kind type of delusions could bring a mother to do such a thing. And I wonder how none of those people at the funeral ever caught something off about such a mother. There must have been some sign. What would the signs be? I became increasingly uneasy as every sign that I could imagine seemed to describe her. It was a terrifying revelation.

And then, just a few days later, the final straw. She used my personal family trauma, involving my child, to get attention for herself. Purposefully making others think I was an unsafe mother. ME, unsafe, not her. She was the picture of motherhood, right? With her multiple infidelities, her selfish parenting, her nights out seeking her own stardom instead of being a mother and a wife. Her clear disdain and despising of anyone who considered staying at home with their children a life worth living.
Her attack on us was brutal, and stemmed from my several attempts to confront her regarding her recent deceptions, in which she denied all truth and contradicted herself in every sentence. It was the same old twisted type of work she did in her numerous attempts to separate Travis and I. Always wanting what is not hers. It's more romantic that way, I suppose. But now it was my children, and never, ever should she have dared. I've not spoken to her since, and have nothing to say. Life feels much healthier without her. It's been a godd almost-a-year.

Back to the point of my writing...
Over the years I became increasingly fearful of my own desire to write and dream turning me down a similar path. I gave up reading books like an alcoholic gives up booze, for fear of becoming like her. And slowly but surely, my notebook and pen become still. I feared a tainted hold on reality that would turn me into a self-absorbed, constant actor, speaking from imagination instead of truth. The potential is there, but I saw the demise and I want none of it.
So, I've rambled now and I doubt it makes any sense. The truth is, I feel empty without expression. Yet it doesn't come back as easily as I expected. Years of squelching makes it weak and I see that I am not a great writer. I'll never publish a thing. But that's Ok. I have no desire for the fame others seek. I want my thoughts released and my heart feels light when on paper. that is all, and it is enough. So, whether anyone reads or not, I will write.

PS: I've left out the name, but if you know who she is, oh well. I could care less. She weaves her tales. I'm just telling the truth. she shows her colors pretty quickly, so I'm really not concerned with defending my stance. You'll see, but please don't bother telling me about it. I don't care.

It's In The Can

2007-09-12T14:09:00.000-07:00

I forgot to mention that on the way home from camping we stopped at Jaemor Farms for some produce. I bought a oressure cooker/canner about a month ago and last week bought a rediculous amount of canning jars off of craigslist. So I was itching for something to try it out. I bought a bushel of tomatoes, a ton of peaches and some pears. Did you know that a bushel is TWENTY FIVE POUNDS!! I had no idea until we started peeling them. Luckily, Selah thought that was the coolest thing on earth and peeled almost the whole 25 pounds by herself. It was a long exhasting day, but I was a pretty proud woman when I saw the stacks of jars on my counter.

I didn't intend to be canning to save money. My initial intent was to use the pressure cooker for cooking dry beans. We eat beans a good bit to save $$ and it gets old soaking them overnight and then cooking them for a few hours. In a crazy homeschool day I often forget to put them on in time and have to do something else in the end. The cooker will cook dry beans in under 45 minutes from dry. That's what I call cool beans. Dear God? Did you really intend for me to have such a tacky sense of humor?

Camping Pictures

2007-09-10T15:03:00.000-07:00

Ok, I'm finally forcing myself to add some pictures. I tend to get too impatient to wait on the upload. So here they are. Notice no photos of the photogropher. Sorry.

Upon Arrival, Selah's first order of business was to beg me to take a picture of her 'sitting like a mermaid' on a big rock by our site. Interesting, since she's never seen the movie but I suppose she's seen the cover somewhere. So here is my little mermaid.

Afterward, she wanted a 'tall picture'.

She was very fucused on setting the tent right

In the meantime Jacob wanted to know why we hung a trashbag on the post.

Saturday morning we searched and searched till we found a perch to see the mountaintops.

We found a gorgeous field of flowers on the way.

Hot chocolate is a treat reserved for such special times as these. Sunday morning before packing up.

Lucas wanted some too, of course.

The only photo of me, a gift from my son.

My one regret from camping? Not enough pictures...

Escaping the City

2007-09-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

There is something about mountain air that draws my heart. As we approached the mountains we rolled down the windows and I felt the weight of awe come over me as it always does. It's amazing. Every leaf, every bug. How can anyone look at all of this beauty and not feel the presence of a Creator? To believe that this world is a product of an accident is a shameful insult. The care and love put into every detail is astounding.

So, yes we went camping. We haven't been since my back injury (2 weeks before Jacob's birth in Dec. 2004) I finally felt that I could handle sleeping on the ground so off we went into the wild, all 5 of us. Gasp!!!

We packed the van up on Thursday evening. All the boyscout influence of my father and 6 brothers taught me to be prepared, or course. Travis works for a wonderful company that closes the office at 3:30 on Fridays to allow for more family time so there we were at the door, right on time. Selah with her magnifying glass and bug box, Jacob taking apart his very own flashlight and Lucas obediently respecting the nap time schedule.

Off we went to the most gorgeous camping site I've ever seen since Entre Rios in Bolivia. Sandy Bottoms in Rabun County. It's past Talula Gorge and Toccoa Falls. Seeing the children's faces at their first sight of mountains was like discovering their splendor for the first time myself. Yep, no doubt that their mine. We made the drive along river to the campsite with the windows down, soaking in nature.

Friday Night: Selah is Miss Serious as she helps Papi put up our tent. She's very concerned about getting the poles in correctly. Jacob is masterfully unpacking the camping crates without permission, desperate to find another flashlight since he's broke his first. Lucas runs around testing the borders of the campsite to see just how far it takes to get our attention and have a fun game of chase down the dirt road. Before dinner we walked the 12 yards to the edge of the river and helped them find stones to throw. Selah wanted to keep all of hers but Jacob was quite happy to test his throwing arm. We had chili for dinner over the campfire and afterwards I lost my "Mom of the Year" award when we discovered that the chocolate for the s'mores was still in the freezer at home. Travis wouldn't let me walk around to the other sites to beg a bar. Meanie. He hadn't camped before we were married so I guess he wasn't aware of the unspoken code of hospitality among campers. Oh well. Submissive wife that I am, I settled for roasted marshmallows on their own.

Saturday Morning: Lucas, snuggling in with me, is the first one up and ecstatic at finding himself out of a crib. He immediately runs to the other side of the tent to start attacking his brother and sister in their sleeping bags. After a good long game of tickle-tackle and general rough housing with mom and dad we set out to make biscuits, scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast. Yes, I do real food on camping trips I admit that I did breakdown and buy a camp stove for this trip but we didn't use it until Saturday night. After breakfast we set up hammocks for the kids while we cleaned up and packed a picnic for camping. We were waiting for Jesse and Reona to show up (the kids' godparents) with their Zoe so we drove down the mountain like traitors to Walmart for Chocolate and warmer PJs for the kids. Back we came and ate lunch since the others weren't there yet. They showed up and we quickly took off for a good hike to wear out the kids. Didn't work. Too much excitement to nap so Jesse and Travis took the older ones to the river next to the site and let them play around jumping in off of rocks. NOT something Mom would do, but they loved it.

Saturday evening I made fajitas and we put the kids to bed early, but not before the long awaited S'mores were made. Jacob couldn't help feeding the fire at every turn and at one point it was bigger than him. Must teach him how to pace himself... After the kids went down we adults played cards for awhile and relaxed next to the fire. The last time we had camped together was when only Selah was around. Now here they were with their own little munchkin and us with 3. Wow.

Sunday Morning: Jesse and Travis made the pancakes and sausage so I took some quiet time in the hammock. Not without several interruptions of 'Momma can I cuddle you?" Who could say no to that. I lay there looking at the sky through the trees, listening to the river rushing by a few feet away and felt thankful. So thankful I couldn't even think of words for a specific prayer. Just thankful for the blessing of being. Humbled by the honor of life as a wife/mother/friend to the most amazing people I know. Thankful that God chose me to be me. Oh, and that he made mountains and river.

My Spiritual Discovery for the Weekend:

I always find some sort of enlightenment through times away. As we spent every moment alone with our children I caught myself at one point about to say the typical "and God made all of this beauty and nature of Earth for us." That's what my parents always said, and many other parents that I know. I stopped for a second as reality hit. No He didn't. God made us last. He made plants and animals first. He made nature in all it's glory and WE are the afterthought. It was a humbling realization of how self centered we are and how we really do believe this universe revolves around us. It doesn't. Being stewards of His earth is an honor. Our disrespect for it is shameful. I felt small and helpless in a healthy way, I think. How lucky are we that he let us live here.

Photos to follow

Little House ... in the Ghetto

2007-09-06T05:34:00.000-07:00

I'm turning 30 in a few months (gasp!!!) Contrary to everything I've ever heard of women dreading the 30-line, I'm very excited and looking forward to it! I just feel like life is better and so much more peaceful. I'm more excited about enjoying my 30's with my husband and children, than I was about turning 20! I'm on this 'Turning 31' kick, which I know is another year yet, but I'm working on myself . I'm basing it on the idea that I'm turning 31 NEXT year, so I'm focusing on personal growth using Proverbs 31 as a guide. I want to find the woman God wants me to be, in the little things. Those little things are proving very impactful.

So, my first step was being content. I prayed for a feeling of peace and contentment with where I am at. I'm tired of the constant urge to compare myself to others. Here's what happened that week (2 weeks ago)
The House. Three and a half years ago with only one child in tow, Travis and I decided to buy a house that was basically unliveable in Atlanta. We had plans already to do major amounts of work, but they came to a screaching halt 10 months later when I was in a severe car accident, Jacob was born and Travis lost his job. That was in interesting Christmas. So basically for many little reasons since then, Lucas being another, construction has proceeded at a snail's pace, if that.
I get so fed up with this tiny shoebox house that I want to burn it down sometimes. I think that's the only way my husband would leave it, and in the long run he is right. It's not easy having 3 kids in one bedroom, or floors that give you splinters constantly. And walls that have been 1/2 finished for 3years, 2 months and some-odd days... I get so overwhelmed and irritated that I panic over this stupid house. One day I was walking around trying to 'clean the house' which never looks clean to me with the paint splatters on the floor and such, and the verse "He who is faithful with little I will make master over much." It just started going through my head and I started dwelling on that. I figured it was better than wondering if a strategically placed mirror across the street would flash light into a Marta Bus drivers eyes causing them to run into the house. They would have to pay for the repairs, right? I've always felt a little chastised by that verse. Honestly I don't feel like I'm truly 'faithful' in anything other than the 'go forth and multiply. We seem to be doing well on that count. I get angry at my children and I yell too much. Sometimes I realize that I've spanked for something that would have done better with a time out, or I've put someone in time out and not followed through with making them stay. I' m constantly behind on housework, sewing, organizing. Whatever it is, you can be sure I'm behind.Anyway, the faithful part. I went to our one bathroom and was, well, going... and I looked around the room. Travis took a week off in February to redo the bathroom. With all of my hints and begging, I don't think it will be done before next February. I thought, "God! This house is so little!" And then it ran through my head again... "faithful in little".
Something switched in my head, or my heart, or both I guess. Here I've been pressuring Travis to get this room done, and the floors, and the kitchen, and build on. Do I deserve to be 'master' over it? Have I been faithful with this house as it is, being content in what I have? No, I have not. I have moments where I like the house, but I insist on constant change. I haven't just let it be and rested in what God has already blessed us with. I felt humbled immediately.
That was about a month ago, and the last month has been so different. I feel different. I don't care if my kids are on one room. I don't feel so embarrassed when people come by. We have what we have. And we are so incredibly blessed!
Ironically, Travis has just decided to relent and allow for hiring help instead of doing all of our construction and projects himself. Two months ago I would have been in a frenzy and already picking out every detail that I wanted done. I kinda feel like... "Let me know when you're ready and what I need to do. " I don't have to control it anymore, or push to get it done faster. I love my house.

Had A Good Day

2007-09-03T14:12:00.000-07:00

I just love life right now. Every day with my children is amazing. The things that come out of their little minds are phenomenal. In a world where no one wears their hear on their sleeves anymore (only on their blogs, ahem) a child will speak from the pure innocence of their heart. They refresh me.

It was a beautiful day. Travis spent the morning outside with the kids working on the lawn. It was so great. Many times I mow the lawn because he doesn't have time, which is fine with me. I don't mind at all. For some reason I have an unexplainable fear of the edger, though. What is that? I've never used it. I'll hike that poor mower over the brick and stone walkway, angle it up a hill to where it is almost on it's side. I mean I'm a madwoman with that thing. But pull out that edger and I'll head inside to do the dishes, thank you very much. I should think about what that is about sometime. I'm always tracing my quirks to the roots. I'll tell ya when I find it.
We went out for the afternoon to do some errands and got completely sidetracked by a call to hang out at a friends house. So, off we went down the street with the whole crew, bearing homemade salsa and ginger dips as an offering for munching. We had a great time. The kids ran around like crazy. It was a good day. Makes me realize how blessed I am to be where I am.

So nothing monumental to report. Just happy all around.

Breathing Fresh Air

2007-09-02T14:43:00.000-07:00

My husband wrote me this in an email: " I read your blog. For me it's like mentally smelling you and kissing you, among other things. I love your picture too. It is beautiful. You are the woman of my dreams, always uncovering dreams that I haven't even realized." What did I do to find such a man? I'm humbled by the knowledge that I am somehow deserving to be his wife.
I played dress up with my kids and our house became a castle with the coffee table turned on it's side for a stable. I was an honored servant of the queen. Should have done more schoolwork, but I marked it down as a field trip. It works for me.
My new neighbor (the grandma with the fence) left a 'Country Living' magazine in my mailbox with a post it note saying, "I was done reading this and thought you would enjoy it." I sat on the couch with the window open to listen to the rain, flipping the pages with a cup of coffee while children slept.
It was such a sweet day. I was a good mom. Sometimes we wonder if we are doing a good job. Today felt great.

Awesome Kroger Shoppin'

2007-08-31T12:54:00.000-07:00

I HAVE 3 or 4 POSTS FROM THE PAST WEEK, waiting for me to finish my thought and spell check. Keep your eye out for them. In the meantime...

For the past 2 years I've been torn between organic and budget so I've decided for now that our budget is priority until we get to a point that we can afford organic. It was just too overwhelming.

So the last month I have used www.couponmom. for grocery shopping, when I can get stuff that is actually not too unhealthy, and I only go for things that I have a coupon for AND are on sale at the same time. It's easy. Just get the Sunday paper and keep all of the coupon sections. I paperclip all the fliers from that week together and put a post it on the front with the date. Then they are all in a pretty IKEA magazine vertical holder on my kitchen shelf. When a sale calls for a coupon, I go find it and clip.
ANYWAY. Yesterday I went to Kroger with all of my Coupon Mom sales, AND they were in the middle of doing their markdowns on bread,milk and meat.

So, here's what I got:

10 loaves of 100% whole wheat bread $.50 ea
2 pkg wheat buns $.50 ea
3 avocados
12 half gallons of milk $.50 each (freezes well)
1 lb butter
Toilet paper (coupon, not sale but you gotta have it)
2 pkg eatsmart cauliflower (FREE after sale + 2 coupons)
2pkg biscuits ( $.25 after cpn)
2 large jars of planers peanuts (cpn + sale)
20 ears of corn ($1 for 10)
4pkg Hebrew National franks (buy 1 get 1 free AND 2 $1 off cpns)
1 large pkg pork chops (discount)
1 pkg 4 pork steaks(discount)
1 4 lb roast(discount)
3 pks of steaks(discount)
12 pkg chicken breasts (3-4 breast each, bnls sknls $1.99 lb)
2 V8 Splash (cnp + sale)
4 cans tuna (sale)
3 large jars of apple jelly (all my kids like)
3pks gourmet sausage links (discount)
4pks Jello pudding mix (sale)
10 cans Van Camps Pork and beans ($.13 a can after sale + coupon)
3 jars peanut butter (cpn + sale)
1 ladies speed stick (FREE with sale + cpn)
5 Karma Bars (DH breakfast on the train)

TOTAL $123.76!!!

My standing freezer is now full with enough bread and milk for 3 months and enough meat for much longer, at least 6 months (we eat vegetarian often)!! Maybe by the time we run out we will be on track with our savings and able to go organic again!!

(((dancing around the room)))

Redefining Tolerance

2007-08-27T19:52:00.000-07:00

I read a quote in the paper about Christians yesterday and it set my brain churning. Tolerance has become such a buzz word lately. Everyone has the right to interpret things as they feel, choose to live as they feel, follow whatever lifestyle they feel. For some reason tolerance is used as a word to protect people from the consequences of their actions. As if we have no right to treat someone differently or comment on their lifestyle. If we do we are intolerant. Oh, the nerve..

Jack McClellan for example http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20113265/

How the heck does this happen? How did freedom of speech get so completely misconstrued as to protect this man's right to lust after small children? And why in the world would anyone feel that we should tolerate his 'preference for prepubescent bodies". Sick, sick, sick. I just can't stop thinking about how violating this is. Yet he's been given a platform, in the name of free speech, to air his views on national television. "You say pedophile like it's a bad thing." Unbelievable. The decline of the morals in this country absolutely are horrific.

The thing about tolerance is that Christians are the first to be called intolerant. People will say that Christ was all about love and acceptance so why do we not accept all of the cultural changes and lifestyles people are choosing. Apparently these people don't read their Bibles.
Christianity by definition must be intolerant. The whole basis of our belief is that Christ is the only way. Christians are to be loving and to accept people for who they are. But what they want is to have their SIN accepted and justified. That's completely different.
God gave us free will and there are so many things that are grey areas for us to choose with our hearts. But there are some things that are pretty clear, with no room for compromise. Yet we do, out of convenience, freedom of speech and, yes, tollerance.

The acceptance of people like this man makes me ashamed of our country. The rate of divorce, sex, drugs, theft, deceit and hypocrisy in the American Church is equally appalling. But you know what? It's because of this call for tolerance. It's a sad, sad thing.

If It Ain't Got That Swing

2007-08-27T13:17:00.000-07:00

If you want to make me a happy woman, take me dancing. Especially swing or salsa. It doesn't matter that I'm really not any good at it. I imagine that I look like one of the ridiculous hippos on Fantasia, floundering around with an unlucky alligator at my mercy. Don't roll your eyes. That's not an "I'm so fat, woe is me." remark. But it is what it is. I'm a fluffy girl. Yes, I am currently in a body image crisis. That's a different story and the Fantasia mental picture is unaffected.

I guess I was like any other little girl. I was exceptionally amazing, and destined to dance with Mikhail Baryshnikov. I dreamed about dancing. I lived for my ballet class and the highlight of my life was being casted in the Christmas production. At 9 years old I regularly snuck and watched Michael Jackson videos to try to memorize the choreography. I was certain that I was going to be a real dancer someday.

I couldn't wait till to be old enough to begin pointe class. My best friend Abby was a year older and she already had hers. I held my breath for a year dreaming of the day I would don the coveted toe shoes and float around like a swan. I was so close I could almost feel the blisters and the cotton balls between my toes.

Then the move happened. We were off to California and dance was left behind. In my innocent little 11 year old mind I assumed that this was my big break. Los Angeles! Real dancers! The classes simply had to be better, didn't they? Would someone famous be my instructor?

I waited patiently. Maybe mom and dad were going to put us in dance in the fall. It was February. Fall would be better.

Fall came and went. I asked and hinted as much as I could get away with. It just wasn't to be. And then there's the irony of Becky K. Bubbly Becky we called her. The ultimate Valley Girl. Cheerleader and dancer extraordinaire. Her Mom took her to classes and tryouts and I heard about them every week when they hosted the youth group in their home. Not to mention the honer of seeing her routines whenever she had something fabulous to show off. Becky was sweet. We weren't close, but we were friends and I never mentioned how painfully jealous I was. Because watching her made me realize that it was all a joke. I wasn't ever any good. And the dance classes I took were not even serious. I had no idea what real dancing was about and the obvious had never occurred to me. I would never have a slim dancer's body. Professional dancers would be starving themselves already if they weighed what I did at 13. It was a useless whim and I was embarrassed to even assume that I had any right to be called a dancer. But I got to watch her be one. Oh, and drive by Michael Jackson's ranch any time I went to visit my friend Tori in her mansion. I often wondered if the llamas in his yard danced better than me.

Time blurs reality, and our memories are prejudice and selective. I haven't thought about it in years, but all of this came back to me a few days ago when I caught up with someone from the good ol' dance days in Virginia. I'd forgotten about all of the bitterness and anger I had about it. All the hurt that comes when reality hits and a little girls dream dies. I've been mulling over all those memories, which I'm sure are skewed a bit. Our memories always are.

I realize now that my parents were getting those classes for us almost free. And a homeschooling mom of 10 has enough on her plate. I survived without dancing. Actually, we started taking Spanish classes with Mrs. Forehand. I may not have learned much Spanish with her, but I did learn to love it and that's what drew me to South America. How would that have happened if dance was in the way?

In reality, the dream didn't die completely. In college I started going swing dancing. In Bolivia I took some Flamenco classes. I've still got that big old skirt. I sure wish I'd kept the shoes! When I returned from Bolivia I went swing and salsa dancing pretty often. It makes my heart so happy to dance, still.

I hoped and hoped I would marry a man who would dance with me. Well, that and drink coffee. I always imagined morning talks over a cup of coffee and evenings out with our dance shoes on. Well, it's been almost 7 years. About twice a year we go to a wedding and Travis will dance with me. I go home wishing we had a wedding to go to every weekend.

My church had a fundraiser last night. A 1920's East Coast Swing style Prom. A chance to dance with childcare included in the price! You know I almost skipped it over not having anything to wear. Yesterday afternoon I got ambitious and bought 3 yards of fabric for $3 at Walmart and made a dress, just in time to throw it over my head and buckle on my Mary Janes from college. I threw my hair in a bun with finger waves in my bangs and off we went.

So, all this introspective blubbering is about last night. Last night I had a chance to dance. My husband danced with me and I think he actually enjoyed it for once. My feet are paying for it today, but my heart is full of life. And I want more.

Song of the Zebra

2007-08-22T11:44:00.000-07:00

Yes, today's life lesson involves zebras. Have you ever really seen a Zebra? They're gorgeous, striking with their black and white. They're bold, bright and beautiful. And my 4 year old loves them.

But here's the thing about Zebras. Many people mistakenly think of them in terms of a horse, with wild stripes. That's not exactly correct. A zebra is more like a donkey. They're smaller than horses. They are very difficult to train. But what has made them my lesson for the day is the way they sound. Imagine it. What would a cross between a donkey and a horse sound like? Let me tell you. It's kinda like a he-haw on Prozac. Louder and faster than you would imagine. It's especially irritating in the voice of a little 4 year old, galloping around the house in the loudest pair of clogs she owns. It is even better waking up to it at 6:30 in the morning. Three weeks in a row....

So, zebras are teaching me patience with my child, forbearance, self control when I want to scream at the noise. Most of all the Zebra phase is teaching me to stop. Ignore how completely obnoxious it is. Think about how blessed I am that my daughter is healthy. That she is creative. That she is active. And that she hasn't asked for a Barbie or a Bratz doll. She doesn't want makeup and boyfriends yet. All she wants is more Zebras...

Tackling my Budgetting

2007-08-21T13:20:00.000-07:00

You know, I'm so sick of and articles and suggestions on being frugal that all center around getting rid of your daily Starbucks (roll eyes). Really, haven't most people who are trying to spend carefully already done that? I need some hard core serious steps to savings, so I've begun my search.

I'm starting with the book Miserly Moms by Jonni McCoy. My sister recommended it to me a few months ago, but cheapo me does not buy books. And for some reason I subconsciously avoid libraries. (I'm working on that, too. Free books and videos ARE a good thing). Well, at my mother's house yesterday morning I saw it in her shelf and almost danced the running man (well, generation X doesn't DO a jig...). So I grabs it with a promise to return it quickly, and had the book read in it's entirety by 1 am this morning. Do you see why I had to give up books for 4 years? I'm dangerous like a coke addict, but that's for another post.

Jonni gives some good information and it was a relief to see some real nitty gritty. She does dedicate some space to the whole Coffee thing, but I guess some people really DO need to hear that again. Some of her suggestions are a little out of my league but all in all I felt challenged and have some notes for improvements in our budgeting tactics.

I especially like some of her recipes and cleaning suggestions. I already do a good bit on that count but she had more information that I had seen so far. I can't wait to try her 'Homemade Grapenuts' and 'Huevos Rancheros'. I'm not sure that I will go so far as to make my own toothpaste. I personally find it easier to use cloth wipes with my cloth diapers than to bother with making my own disposable wipes. But not everyone is into that.

So, bottom line it was an easy read with some good information. Go check it out!

Be Still My Heart

2007-08-09T20:23:00.000-07:00

Do you ever just have one of those days where your heart is so full that it physically aches. My children have taken on this whole new level of awareness.

Last month we became a one car family. One of our steps towards simplified life. We were a bit anxious as to how it would all work out. We've always got a million things going. But having only the minivan has actually helped slow us down. It has made us more intentional in our living. That is exactly what we are looking for. Living life on purpose.

The Marta train station is a 5 minute round trip for the kids and I to drop Travis off. We've realized that having him ride Marta has so many benefits. First of all, it actually costs less than gas would. Not to mention what another car would cost in payments and/or repairs and maintenance. It gives him 20 minutes to and from work to have some peace. He's been reading his bible and books as he sits. Imagine how much better that must be for your body and spirit.

We all get up in the morning to get him to the station at 7:30. I've started laying the kids clothes out the night before so we can go straight to the YMCA after dropping him. It feels good to get started early. When we pick him up in the evenings, he's had 20 minutes to relax. So he's ready to be the family man.

Anyway, today I was late picking Travis up. Lucas decided to play hide and seek with the keys. I finally got the kids all buckled in and we were on our way. As I was trucking along Marietta towards the station I see this good lookin' guy walking along the side of the road. Can you believe it took me a second to realize it was my own man? I was literally embarrassed and giggling as I did a u-turn to pick him up. How did I get him? He makes me weak.

Selah is noticing things and asking questions that are starting to challenge me. Today we were driving. We were getting on 285 South at South Cobb Dr. We don't go to that exit often. Selah suddenly says "Momma! I see Nanny Hanny's city!" This is what she usually says when we drive into Vinings, where my sister lives. I tell her that we are actually in a different part of the city, but she insists. "No momma. Her city is over there. I see the building where Uncle Dennis works." Now that got my attention. We WERE only one exit over. So I look to my right. There, just above the treeline I saw the top of Home Depot's Store Support Center where Uncle Dennis does, in fact, work. Amazing.

Ok, off to fold mounds of laundry.

From February- When I first wrote about it

2007-08-08T09:47:00.000-07:00

Friday, February 16, 2007
RE SOLVE
..>
RE SOLVE
It hit me. Resolutions... what are they really? We treat them like a wishlist for santa. Well, those of us that "do" santa that is Is it any wonder that they are recuring every year? That we easily push them aside to try again next time?
But what would happen if we actually gave the word the respect and thought that it warants. Re-solve. re-solution. Have you solved anything lately, or taken the time to create an actual SOLUTION for the issue?
Well, I've thought about it and I'm ready to solve. We're going to do things differently. It's gonna be great.
We have made a decision to detoxify our lives in every way. We want to get back to a minimalistic, basic lifestyle with a focus on God. We've made a plan and resolution for this year that EVERYTHING we do must be purposeful, working towards peace, health (emotionally, spiritually and physically), and security for us and our children. If anything works against it in any way at all, we have to reevaluate the action, relationship, item, event, etc. or rethink the purpose and realign what we're doing so there is integrity and wholeness.
In the last two months we have made a lot of changes. We are going through everything we own and questioning our need for it. It's amazing how much stuff we can accumulate in the hopes of "one day". One day we'll rebuild this. This over here I'll paint. I want to knock the top off of that one and make it an end table. Nevermind. I have 3 sweet lil' projects now and I'll take them over the junk any day.
Events in the last year have changed what we thought we knew of people. While forgiving is obtainable I find that going back to those relationships is as impossible as going back to last summer, or restoring a child's innocence. It just can't be done. And I'm Ok with that. I still love. I still care. But trust is a gift that must be earned. I'll keep that to myself, thank you.
Ultimately, I'm just done expecting things to change without making a change. Somewhere I heard "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over yet expecting different results." I can't remember where I heard it, but it branded my mind and the way I've seen things for the past year.
So here we are... doing things new. Ask me how it went next year.

The Perils of Travelling Airtran

2007-04-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

Well, overall it's not their fault, but the end result was!!
Through a whole serious of crappy events this morning we missed our flight to the bahamas. I've never missed a flight in my life. It was horrible.Kent picked us up this morning (GREAT GUY, there's your plug :) WE got off a little late and arrived at the airport at 8:05.But you should have SEEN the lines at the desk. No problem, we can do the electronic check in...Well, after 10 minutes of it not finding our confirmation we went to stand in the huge line, assuming that we just needed to. After 10 minutes int he line, an attendant tells us that we CAN do the e-check, but have to talk to the service person who is standing there doing nothing. So off we go, thrilled to be skipping the rest of the line. We gave her our confirmation number and that's when the real problems started... First thing she asked for? Passports. You should have seen Trav's face. He knew exactly where they were. At home in the desk. Ummm....yeah. To be honest, I didn't even know we needed them. I assumed it was the smae as going to Puerto Rico, Mexico or Cnanda. BUt TRavis knew...The panic begins. It's now 8:40 and the flight is at 9:38. Luckily Kathryn had our car, but also had the kids. Poor Kathryn threw the kids in the car and headed our way in what was left of rush hour traffic. Thank god for the HOV lane ! She got there at 9:02 and we were checked in by 9:05.
Then we ran. I used my pregnant powers to convince the employee at the security check to let us skip the line. THat was great. Then I got the peopel at the actual check out who are puting their bags through to let us jump in front. The tram was right on time. Doors closed right as we jumped on. As the tram pulled up to the C terminal for us to get off, Trav was the first one out the door. It was 9:10. The gates supposedly close 10 minutes before..I stayed back to walk the bags (we weren't checking any) as Trav bookes it up the 2 storry escalator thats BROKEN. THen of course, we are at gate 3, all the way at the end... I lugged the 1 bag up the damn broken escalator, thinking it wouldn't be a big deal. I'm pregnant, not handicapped, right? Well, half way up I knew it was a mistake. The bigger mistake was letting Trav take my bag with my inhaler... NOT good. By the time I got to the top people were looking at me becasue I was breathign hard. Then the real wheezing set in. I didn't knwo what to do. I needed to stop so I could breath, but I HAD to get to Travis with my inhaler, at the other end of the terminal. I don't know how I did it. By the time I got ot the desk my lips wer numb and I was shaking. I was right at the verge of passing out. And it was 9:12.I was too busy puffing my inhaler and trying not to throwup to understand what was goign on. We made it, right? Wrong. THey changed the friggin departure time to 9:20. Which meant the doors closed 2 minutes before we made it. They knew we checled in at 9, but couldn't do anything about it, they said. I'm so embarassed. I cried. I think the fact that I almost passed out did it. I haven't had an asthma attack like that in over a year. TEh fact that we made the time as it should have been, but they had moved the time up so it was all for nothing. At least it was crying quietly. I couldn't even talk for 10 minutes. The lady in charge came up and asked what we wanted to do. Umm, other than get on the friggin plane that was still sitting there? I just wanted to sit there and be mind numb for a minute. So, we told her to go ahead and reschedule us for tomorrow. Well, trav did. I was still staring into space on my albuterol high. It took her a minute to come back, and in that time I gained control of my brain again. She came back and said that there was really no way we could have made it, since we had checked in at 9. I looked at her and said "We've been here since 8. We didn't know we needed our passports. I didn't consider it international because Airtran doesn't have international flights." You should have seen the look on her face. She was horrified. I think they didn't let us on to make a point since we were 'late'. After we got the tickets squared away, we called AIrtran and they were able to extend our return flight to monday morning. We called the owner of the condo we are renting, and he said it is available for the extra 2 nights, and only charged us for 1!! Not only that, he's just going to take it out of our security depsit, instead of make us come up with more $$. GREAT GUY! We were going to be 3 nights, but now we will be 5, since there aren't any return flights available Saturday or Sunday.We sat ther for an hour before we were ready to move. And, amazingly we were pretty much over it by the time we got up. We went and ate lunch at the Houlihan's in the Airport, and then rode the Marta Train back to downtown,s o that Kathryn only had to pick us up at the North Ave. Station. But she had to wash the car seat because poor Selah had an accident in the middle of traffic. My poor girl was devestated. IT was heartbreaking to see her say she was sorry for having an accident that wasn't her fault :(
. We came home and took a nap with the kids and then took them to the Aquarium for a couple of hours. It was the least busy it's ever been. IT was great. In the long run, we will get 2 extra days in the Bahamas, and we got to spend the day with the kids. No errands, no comittements. It's been nice.So, now I'm going to go grill the steaks I go fir dinner and pretend that we are on the beach. We sure as hell better be tomorrow!!!

So, about the Bahamas...

2006-05-15T15:07:00.000-07:00

It's taken me awhile. Didn't feel like posting about it at first, well, becasue it all sounds quite aweful. It really wasn't, though. It's just that the interesting and umm... appropriate parts worth sharing are pretty funny.
Well if you read about missing our flight, you already know how it started... a day late. My dad happened to be flying out on Wednesday to Colorado, so he was able to pick us up without us finding another ride. It was nice to be able to ride down with him and chat. When we got to the gate, they had changed our seats to the first row in first class. You know, the one with extra leg room? It was great. Would have been nice to not be 7 months pregnant and be able to enjoy a drink, but oh well..
So when we landed we found a payphone to cal lthe guy we had emailed about renting a 'bahama buggy'. A dune buggy, basically. Soooo cool, rihgt? Wrong. His computer was 'messed up' so he never got our reservation. He only had regular cars left for rental, and he was flying back from florida himself, so he couldn't get us from the airport like planned.
So $25 later the Taxi dropps us off at teh front of the Coral Beach Resort where we are staying. The building was obviously under a lot of construction, which really didn't bother us but may have ticked someone else off. They did jsut go through two horrible hurricanes in a row. Luckily our room had been completely renovated and was really nice, except for the construction sounds outside. We called the car guy again, he said he would be there in 20 minutes and would call our room.... so we wait, and wait, and take a nap, and wait.. At about 4 (we landed at 11am) he finally calls and says he'll be there in a few minutes. Grrrr. At least he was that time.
So Wednesday and Thursday were pretty uneventful.. We walked the beach and swam. Had lots of fun. Tried hard to find something interesting to eat that wasn't fried.. ugh...
Thursday night we call the house to check on the kids, who somehow were really stressing Kathryn out. Which in turn stressed us out, alot. There were people everywhere with their kids having fun, and we already regretted not bringing them. We talked to them every night after that and things just didn't seem to get much better at home. It's been 2 weeks and Jacob is still traumatized that we left him, I guess.
Friday was fun. We saw an add for the filming of 'Pirates of the Carribean II and III". So we hoped in the car and drove about 45 minutes out into the middle of nowhere to the film site. They had security fence with caution sgns everywhere, but there was no one at the security station. It was pretty fun to sneak around. The remains of some of the boats were still tied to the docks, so we snuck on. It was pretty cool.We added it to our list.
Travis lost his wallet on Friday afternoon, and I only had $80 left, $10 of which we had to use to buy a phone card to cancel his credit cards. We tore the condo apart, evne mifted the matress and all the furniture, but couldn't find it.
We spent the rest of the weekend on the beach and walking around Port Lucaya. It was nice. I actually dug a hole in the sand so I could lay on my belly and tan. Made for some funny pictures.
Overall sounds pretty boring. I don't know if it was really worth even writing all of this out. But in case you wanted to know.... not too exciting....
Oh, Travis found the wallet as he was putting his computer bag in the overhead storage on the plane. Poor guy was so pissed at himself.

2006-04-23T15:04:00.000-07:00

So, after I put the kids to bed I went to Kroger. I NEVER go to Kroger. I usually do the farmer's market, but jsut needed to get a few things for the babysitter to be set while I'm gone. I live downtown, so it's a really dodgey store.
I'm walking out the door and I see this tan van parked about 5 spaces down. Big guy in the passenger seat staring at me or the door. I assumed he was waiting for someone, but I just got a funny feeling the way he was looking. Call me paranoid, but I remembered one of htose cheesy forwards I got from someone about women being safe, blah , blah...
I stopped at the door to dig through my purse for my keys, instead of at the car, and I put them between my fingers just in case. Prego or not, I cna whip out some kick ass... All of the time thinking I'm being a dork, I go to my car and open the Passenger side door (away from the van) to put all of the groceries in. and I'm not looking at the van, but as I put the last bag in and close the door, he gets out and so does the driver. Even BIGGER guy. His face was all scared up like Seal (the singer). So I actually locked the car BACK up and took the cart all the way to the front of the store.
As I start walking toward the store, the driver comes around the back of my car, and the passenger goes over to the other lane, toward the front of my car. They're both talking on cell phones, but walking really slow. So I turn my back to them and take the cart up. When I turn back around the driver is litterally standing AT the back of my car talking on his phone, but obviously watching me. The store is busy, people are going in and out constantly. so I stand at the front door, fold my arms and just stare him straight in the eye. He's a good 10 yards away. At this point I was more pissed than scared. I've got 6 brohters. I'll kick their a$#es!!! Well, no. Better not to try that this time...
The other guy was still standing toward the front of my car, but not as close. They are totally standing there waiting for me to come back. I stood there for a good 60 seconds wating starign straight at him standing by my car. Makignit very clear that I'm not budging till they are gone.
Then 2 cars pull up and park in the parking places on both sides of my car. Tons of college students. I immediately start walking straight to my car while they are all right there next to it. The driver (at the back of my car) looks at the other guy and nods toward the store. They both hang up their phones and walk towards the store. I was in the car with the doors locked before they got inside.I don't know if they wanted my purse, or my car, or something worse. Travis pointed out that I was an easy target, since I can't run as fast being pregnant. JERKS! All I know is that I'm NEVER going Krogering late at night again on Howell Mill.

Do You Really Miss Me?

2005-09-12T15:08:00.000-07:00

Someone emailed me and said they 'miss us'. I found it a bit ironic. I saw this person this morning at church, but they didn't say hi.
We went to church this morning. It's become increasingly easy to miss it. I worked 13 hours straight yesterday with only 2 ten minute breaks and had to be back 3-10 today. I dragged myself out of bed at 10 and told Travis we HAD to go. He wasn't so happy with me for it when he realized that we a 'substitute' teaching again. Gareth wasn't bad, but I missed alot sitting in the cafe. SOmeone grabbed me to vent about the woes of singleness. Always greener on the other side...
I just feel very distanced from people.I guess when you go through crap you find out who your friends really are. None of the people that I expected, which i guess should have been predictable. The relationships that were so important a year ago hardly exist now. People that I've tried so hard to get to know, forget who I am. On the otherhand, people who I didn't really know before have made themselves close. It's helpful, but uncomfortable. It takes too much work right now to get to know them. And I hate that they don't know the happy me that's been on vacation for a year.
Maybe my expectations are high. I give 150% to everything I do. It blows me away when I see someone act like a martyr over giving 5%. Like saying 'How are you?' is their act of kindness for the day and they are so proud of themselves for getting it out of the way so early in the morning. On the otherhand, If I guadged how much I put into things, I would be able to prioritize better and not screw my whole life up like I do. But then I have to face the fact that if that's what people are doing, I'm not even worth 5%. I prefer to go with them being lazy. It hurts less.
I'm just not the same person anymore. In some ways it's good. I've grown, I suppose. I just miss feeling free, and useful, and needed, and even wanted.
I mean, come on, really. DO you miss us? What the hell is there to miss? Everything seems to be running much smoother without us there to screw it up. Why would you miss us? You miss obnoxious calls of me complaining, or freaking out, or messing something else up? I find that hard to believe. Sweet, but a little bit like the obligatory " Say hi to someone you don't know" so that you can pat yourself on the back for being 'sociable' . Give me a break.

The Day I Decided to Stand

2005-09-05T15:11:00.000-07:00

Seven years ago the family was together at Chilli's for dinner. Everyone was in town, including Sarah, the first grandchild, my first neice. She insisted on sitting next to Grandpa, which my sister let her do. I sat across from them. Being a normal 'almost 2 year old', Sarah hadn't quite masterd the use of crayons. She was working so hard to color, but kept going off the kids menu onto the table. Dad just couldn handle it. You can almost see his eyes turn red as he growls in an almost demonic voice "Don't you dare do that again." I see her fear and confusion. What did I do wrong? Is coloring bad? How did I make Grandpa so mad? What can't I do again? I see it and I feel the shame and devestation in hear little innocent heart. It's the same thing he did to me, to all of us, over and over our whole lives. She timidly goes back to coloring for the fifth time, chosing a different crayon. Maybe it was the color she had used that made grandpa so angry. After a few minutes she feels Ok and gets excited again. She goes off the paper. It starts all over.
I know Melissa sees the way he talked to her baby girl. I see the fire in her eyes, but still she doesn't say a word. She leaves to go to the bathroom. I don't understand.

Sarah is coloring away happily again. Everyone is talking and acting like they don't know that Dad is in a 'mood'. Sarah drops the yellow crayon and crawls down under the table to get it.

That's when it happened. I felt the whole world stop. I saw my father reach down and violently wrench his only precious grandchild up by her tiny little arm and throw her back in the booster seat.
That's when I stood. With my brothers and sisters staring at me in shock, I told my father exactly what would happen. If I ever saw him hurt a child again, he would never see any child of mine. He would never be involved in their lives. I walked away from the table, out the door and got in my car. No one ever said a word. No one ever has. I had just turned 19.

***************************************

Travis and I had to face it this week. There have been a few instances where he hassnapped with Selah, and my stomach just drops to my feet. It's just that he's changed so much. I see him be so much more loving than he ever was before. But the anger is still there. I've never seen him touch her.
A few weeks ago everyone was out of town, leaving my Dad at home alone for the first time in years. We decided to take him with us to a Braves game. Selah was so excited. Like any other 2 year old would, she wanted to climb all over all of us to see better. She wanted to do the wave. She screamed and clapped, sometimes when no one else was. I was dealing with Jacob who was hot and miserable. Travis sat on one side of me and my Dad on the other. Selah decided it was time to climb on Grandpa and jump and scream. I knew he was starting to get irritated.
I wasn't sure what I saw. It was just a flash out of the corner of my eye. His hand moved, she arched her back. She quickly came to me and crawled up on my lap. She rested her head on my shoulder and cuddled. "What happened, Dad?" I asked. "Nothing" he said. I peeked at her back and I wasn't sure if I saw red marks of not. It was kind of dark.
The next morning I saw the proof. I didn't expect it. I was putting a dress on her and thought I should check her back, just in case. There in the middle of her tiny delicate back were 4 big bruises, clearly from large fingertips thrust into her back. I was devestated. The floor fell out from beneath me. I held her and I cried.
We didn't confront them until this week. It was hard. I wanted to cool down. I wanted to be loving. We basically told them that he needed to get counseling and start working on anger management,or they will not be able to see our kids anymore. He took it much more humbly than I've ever seen him before. He cried and asked forforgiveness, which we willingly gave. But forgiveness doesn't mean that we can leave our kids there again. It was really stressfull. Hehas changed so much for the better since I was a child. I hope thatthis helps even more. We are still spending time with the wholefamily, but I am watching very carefully. I'm really just waitingfor the next blowup. If he makes one move that I don't like, we willstop all contact until I have proof from a professional that he hasmade progress. I don't know if we should threaten to report them. Ijsut don;t know how far to go with it. Compared to some of the sickstuff out there, he's pretty mild. I have no doubt that he loves usall. He's just never been taught how to deal with his anger.

Home's Cool, Schools Drool...

2005-07-27T15:17:00.000-07:00

Pretty tacky title, huh? This is an email I wrote for a friend regarding Home Schooling. I just want to be able to find it later. Feel free to read...

My mother was a home schooling pioneer. My sister was the first 'Home schooled' to be accepted into college in VA, back in '80-something. My mom has been doing it for over 23 years (the youngest 2 are still at home).
SHOULD YOU- Only if you feel like God has called you to. Don't do it because your friends pressure you. Never because you just miss your kids. Never out of guilt. It is so much work. It's a whole new level of parental responsibility. Every decision you make and every word from your mouth has the potential to 'bless or curse' their education, self-esteem and future. I've seen absolutely amazing things come from it. I’ve also seen some situations that I wish I could forget.
SOCIALIZATION- This is the first thing that people are usually concerned with. When I was home schooled, not even half of what is available now was around. Many times I had to explain to people what home schooled meant! I was better socialized than ANY of my friends because my parents were able to chose healthy situations for me to be in. As adults, we don't get to just 'socialize' all the time. Not many of us see our best friend every day. I feel like letting that be a priority can set up an unrealistic expectation of adulthood. Think about it. Why are so many '20-somethings' hesitant to get a real job, start a family, make a commitment, etc. It's the same thing as a youth group mentality to me. If the youth groups main focus is fun instead of learning about God, then what teen is going to like the transition into sitting in a 1 hour service where you are learning about your Heavenly Father (instead of having candy thrown out into the crowd, or playing games). There is a place for the fun and socialization. Just like in adult life, it should come second.
EDUCATION- I think the hardest thing as a home-schooled mom is keeping your perspective on what your involvement in the education should be. It's your job to show them God’s love, first and foremost. If it's too stressful for you to have them 24/7, they should be in school or you should have other moms to share teaching with. At the very least, have a day when they are in some other classes so you can regroup and refocus. If there is a subject that you cannot give them what they need, FIND A SUB. Find other moms and use each other's strengths. We went to a friend’s house to learn Spanish and they came to our house for hands on chem. lab. Find a coop.

FINANCES- Don't do it if you can't afford unless you have resources already available. It's not cheap. You have to be willing to sacrifice for it, just like if you were paying for private school. They still have to learn, even things you don't have the knowledge to teach. It's your responsibility to get that to them.
My parents made many mistakes teaching us, and they do affect my every day. BUT not anywhere near how much the good has made me who I am.

When I Grow Up

2005-07-26T15:18:00.000-07:00

I wanted to be everything. I still do! Maybe that's my problem.
I wanted to be a dancer until I was 11. They my dad lost his job and we couldn't afford the classes. I started my period and gained 30 lbs. The outcome is obvious there..
At 12 I wanted to be a missionary. I lived on books about Gladys Alyward, Amy Charmicael... any single missionary woman that worked with children. I tried to learn Spanish on my own. Then I discovered boys...
AT 13 I wanted to be a Mom. I wanted to not even kiss until my wedding day. I wanted to have 8 kids, all home births. I wanted to homeschool them all. I even named them. Selah, Luci, Keziah, Lydia Jacob, Louis, Charles, Samuel.
At 15 I discovered my passion for writing, and what I THOUGHT was my huge talent for it. It helped me through the bad times. I have pages of pathetic prose dedicated to all my teenage angst.
Three days before my 16th birthday, we moved to Atlanta and I met Travis the next week. The writing lasted until my first year of college at 17. I was the youngest staff writer ever for the school paper. I got a D in English 101 and was devestated. Apparently the new ciriculum confused Englosh 101 with Polictically Correct 101. I quit college over it. What 17 year old should be living on her own working 2 jobs and going to college anyway? I haven't written since.
At 19, after 3 1/2 years dating, he broke up with me on the phone at 7:30 in the morning. I was on the cordless, looking at my wedding dress at the time. I asked him what he expected me to do with the dress and he said he didn't know. It was Friday, June 13th.
A few weeks later I decided that I should park my 74 VW Beetle at the bottom of the Chatahoochee in the Damn wedding dress. My period was late, and I couldn't face my weakness at giving in. An old friend called and I already had the dress on. WHe asked me to come spend the night and go to church with her, which sounded like a better idea. God touched my heart. I found out I wasn't pregnant that week.As a result, I quit my cosmotology apprenticeship and decided to persue the missionary plan. I spent a year waiting tables and working at my church. I told God that my husband had to take me to dinner at this restaurant the night he proposed. I worked hard to immagine it, knowing that Travis was gone.
The next August (1998) I left for Bolivia and my whole life changed. It was a dream come true. I did it! I loved it! I learned to speak Spanish. I was there for 9 amazing months, loving on street kids.I want to go back...
I came back and there was a new sound director at my church. It was 2 years since I hung up the phone and closed the closet so I wouldn't have to see the wedding dress we bought together. I loved my church. I could have left but he WAS my best friend for those 3 1/2 years. Meybe I could have that back.
Then I had to dance. I learned Salsa and Swing, not the original plan of a ballerina, but I loved it! I was thin for the first time since I was 12. A true size 6! Yes, that is WITHOUT the usual '1' in front of it. I went out with a couple of guys. Only the ones who liked to dance. Looking back, I'm pretty sure they were gay. Travis said I was crazy and that would never dance.
In Febuary a year later(2000), we decided to go 'hang out as friends'. I paid for my dinner and we went in MY car with ME driving. It was great. I missed him. On the way back to drop him off Travis said "I have to tell you something." I kinda got a weird feeling about it and told him maybe he shouldn't. Of course, he did anyway. "I've been praying a long time about this, and God has given me permission to persue you as my wife again." I responded immediately. "That's nice, but I didn't so don't". We saw each other every couple of weeks after that. At lunch on Easter Sunday he asked if we could call this one a date, and I finally said yes. I loved it.
In June I panicked and took a job offer in North Carolina, 5 hours away. I knew that God could make it last if it was His idea, but I couldn't survive in Atlanta again if it didn't. I came back every other weekend because I missed him so much.
He proposed on August 26th. We were sitting on 'Our park table' that we had carved our initials in when we were 18. No one knew about the restaurant, but somehow he took me there for dinner. He had gotten on the internet and figured out how to ask in SPanish. How did he know that was the second most important thing to me? I'd never told a soul. Somehow he knew my soul.
On April 28, 2001. I put on the wedding dress that my mom had protected from my destructive depression. I walked down the aisle towards the most amazing man I've ever met...Jesus was there...

If I could only Breath...

2005-07-21T15:20:00.000-07:00

I'm spent... I'm tired...I'm sick.. and I just don't know how much longer I can live this way. For every one step towards hope I take, there are 5 more personal or financial disasters to put me back in my place and I find myself ashamed of even having hope.
I can't find the emotional energy to pray, and the words are just stuck somehow. I know that God is out there holding me. I just wish I could feel his arms.
Every time something happens, I think it's the last straw. I think I'm losing my mind. I tell myself that this must be rock bottom and the only way now is up. It's just not working. I struggle to fegain a positive outlook and as soon as I get back up something else happens. I'm actually making some money now, and it's pretty great money. But the car breaks domn and costs $900 and Jacob needs allergy testing at $200.... Everything is gone before we can do anything with it.
I don't have hot water in the kitchen. I can't mow my lawn because the mower was stolen. I can't cook because the gas is turned off. I can't make sales calls because the car broke down again (regardless of damn $900 we spent on it LESS THAN A MONTK AGO!). And that's just the Passat. They timing belt went out on the Rodeo, and it looks like the whole engine is blown. We jsut paid the last payment on in in November..So both cars are dead and we are sharing the Volvo that we had to borrow $2500 to buy last month.
I can't get the physical therapy that I need for my back because it's $25 a visit, I need to go twice a week, I can't get there without a car and I can't take 2 kids with me.
Feeding Jacob with all of his allergies costs as much as our grocery budget to feed the rest of us every week. I nursed him for the last time yesterday. I feel like a failure for not having the strength so 'Suck it up' and contunue breastfeeding with all of the restrictions. I just couldn't handle it. I nevcer claimed to be as amazing as other people who were able to deal with that. Why can't everyone stop comparing me to it? I don't care if it worked for some moms to cut out dairy. Did they cut out wheat, soy, yeast, baking soda, rye and tomoatoes? Everything I eat is like kryptonite to him, and I just couldn't do it.
I spent over a year and a half dedicating the majority of my free time to my church. We even moved from Marietta to live near the church so that I could do this. I was so shure that it was what God wanted. I've always believed that if you give of yourself, and trust the Lord, he will take care of you. But he didn't, and he hasn't and he STILL ISN'T. I feel like every decision that we've made has been a mistake. God has brought good from a lot of it, but I just don't feel like it's enough.
My house is like a war zone. I'm so ashamed. I don't know if I've ever even SEEN a house this messy in my life! It is absolutely unliveable. I just can't seem to win.
I have all these new people in my life who didn't know me before 2 years ago. I feel like a shell of what I used to be. I don't want people to know me like this. I've become unreliable, unpredictable, depressed, negative. I can't seem to have a conversation without it coming back to my pathetic life, and I feel like all I ever do is complain and vent. I'm sick of every conversation, every decision coming back to how rediculously broke we are. I'm sick of explaining that yes, Travis is making good money at his new job and yes, I'm doing better than I ever expected with Arbonne. But somehow, we are worse off than when we started.
It just can't get any worse. I don't think I can take another hit. What do I do? And no one can save me. It's not your job. I think I'm going to be sick. I'm so alone. I keep waiting for God to peek his head in like the Dr in the examining room and at least say, " I know you feel aweful. Just one more minute. I'll be there and we'll figure out how to make you better." Just some sort of hope. I have no idea if this will ever end. I'm still waiting.