New Year, New Me!

Ok....that's a lie.  It's the same old me.  I used to make New Year's resolutions.  I used to want to lose 10 pounds, eat less crap, eat more healthy, exercise more, blah blah blah.  I gave up.  Every.  Single.  Year.  Now, yeah, I just want to try to get out of my jammies by noon.  And give my kids more of my undistracted attention.  That's about the extent of what I'm resolute about.  I want to live this year.  I want to put down my stupid phone and look at Facebook less, and into the eyes of my children more. I want to yell less and listen more.  I want to take a deep breath and remember the amount of time my kids have existed on this earth and decide if my frustration with their incessant babble is warranted or if I just need to put myself in timeout locked in the bathroom with the container of Nutella and a spoon (don't judge me....I told you I gave up on those last 10 pesky pounds)
I see my daughter some days and wonder where the time went.  How did I merely blink my eyes and she stopped being a chubby little diaper wearing, paint covered, cuddle bug?  How is my baby boy about to start a pre-k prep school?  He was just nursing and snuggled in my arms last week!  I don't want to miss this!  Even on days that I really, really, REALLY want to run away from home to the nearest beach with a little (or big) umbrella drink with my name on it (or on 5 of them).  I still want to see their faces as they giggle over something silly, and want to smell their hair after a bath (one that they actually manage to wash their hair and not just pour water on the floor).  I want to be part of it.  I want to create memories.  Both for them and for me.  Ones that will carry us through the rough patches....like from 12-20.  That is my goal for this year.  Same old me, just more present.  Not just physically.  But mentally and emotionally.  And I'm sure I'll screw it up.  Regularly.  But I'll just pick up that umbrella drink and enjoy in the midst of my chaos.  And we will all just figure it out as we go.  How's that for a not so resolute resolution?  Are you in?

The Lord's Prayer...Kinda

So, the kids and I barely made it to church yesterday.  And I'll be honest, I had already had 2 cups of coffee and was working on number 3, just hoping not to nod off and start snoring. Especially since I had no one there to smack me and save me from drooling on my shoes in front of a room full of alert people anticipating a great word from God.  Not that I didn't want the whole word from God thing.  I was just tired.  Really really tired.
Anyway, so I was sitting in my cozy seat, kids all checked in to their own services, and I'm watching the screen anxiously hoping not to see my son's ID come up, thinking about my grocery list, and what we were going to throw together for lunch.  And dinner.  And if I could figure out not to have to drag my kids to HEB on a Sunday, which is like a flipping death wish.  Then my pastor starts talking about our prayer life.  Ding!  All of a sudden, I was doing what I should have been doing all along, tuning in.  Listening.  Not just with my head.  But with my heart.  My spirit.
You see, this has been a long standing struggle of mine.  Not exactly what you want to advertise as a person who was raised in a strong Christian home, with a lifetime of church attendence and Christ-like influences.  But it's true.  I mean, I pray through the day and pray before meals and bed time, and on the way to school.  It's not like I DON'T pray.  But I'm not intentional in it.  Does that make sense?  I seldom drop to my knees or even drop my phone long enough to not only lift up my prayer requests, but to really, honestly, praise my maker. The ultimate artist doesn't get a genuine enough piece of my time.  Judge away.  I know.  Not something I'm proud of, but in this place, where I have promised myself to be raw and real, I'm essentially going to shout it from the proverbial rooftop.  My prayer life is lame.  L.A.M.E.
But my pastor said something that really made me listen.  He started talking about the Lord's Prayer.  I've had it drilled into me all of my life.  Sunday school lesson after Sunday school lesson.  Memorized? Check.  Fall back prayer? Check.  But Pastor Joe said it isn't a form prayer, like the whole "God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for our food.  Amen" shebang.  WHHAAAATTT????  Come again.  Yep.  He said it.  Gasp.  He even continued on in this crazy vein by saying, it's just an outline for how we should pray.  And you know what?  He is so right!  You never hear Jesus praying this prayer.  He simply said, when you pray, pray like this.  Not pray these words.  Not repeat after me.  But pray like this.  In this manner.  Use this as an idea.  A catalyst  of sorts.
Maybe this doesn't hit anyone else the way it hit me.  Which is fine.  I'm not exactly on the top of the good Christian girl food chain.  But I had to share it.  Because it's so relevant.  My prayer time needs to be for real.  Not just randomly through the day, but time set apart to chat with my Saviour.  The Potter to my clay.  In which I can really connect with Him.  To step into His presence....to experience a bit on heaven on earth.
How are my children going to learn to be one with God if they only see me giving Him what I have left over? They aren't.  So here's to change.  Here's to a step in the right direction.  The direction of Christ and His ultimate plan for my life.  And my families' life.  Here's to the times I'll fall flat on my face, mess up, run away and hide.  Because sometimes I suck at life.  Sometimes I'm a total coward.  And sometimes I'm lazy.  But I'm also not a quitter.  Or at least not for long.  So if you are here, join me.  Join me in making the first step towards an intentional prayer life.  And if you're not in this place, then feel free add us to your prayer list, because I promise that we will need it.  A lot.

Life Happens

Have you ever had so much life happen that you completely lose sight of what makes you who you are? No? Just me?  Figures.  But really, I think I've come to the conclusion that I find life in words.  Not just the "I feel better when I get my feelings out" kind of thing.  But in the "I feel like I've been under water, gasping for air, and this is like my life saving breath" way.  I've been so busy surviving the day to day, that somewhere along the way I forgot to live.  I forgot the person that I was and the one I want to be.  I want to be better.  I long to be the kind of wife and mother and friend that gives life to those around her.  Not because I am something special, because, lets get real, I'm just a little short of the straight jacket most days (which is fine given the fact I embrace the crazy).  But because I am full of life.  Because I am in love with living the one that I have chosen.  And that rubs off on the people around me.  I want my laugh to be contagious and my joy to be felt.  I think I realize why that hasn't been true with me, and it's because I lost my sense of self.  I lost my words, my life source.  But this is my journey to finding them again.  So feel free to join me.  I will share with you my ups and downs.  My passion and failures.  My tears and laughter.  And I'll throw in some parenting, cooking and life experiences as well, and even (hopefully) some accidental insight every now and then, too.  So come on, pour another cup (of coffee or whiskey....there's no judgement here) and enjoy the ride.

I'm Back!

Ok, so it's been a while, but I'm back, crazier than ever and with a full arsenal of caffeine to keep me alert and witty....well, at least alert.  I'm not even going to attempt to catch up on the last 2 years, but the edited version is Princess is about to turn 5 and what else?  Oh yeah, I grew and birthed an entire other person, who as of 2 days ago turned 1!  I have spent the last year in a complete sleep deprived state, motivated to stay on my feet only by the large, most likely illegal amounts of caffeine I pump into my blood stream.  But, as if giving me a little early birthday present,  my little bundle of joy has finally started sleeping through the night!!  The clouds opened up, sun broke through, shining, angels singing, the whole nine yards.  And now, we are back at the present, where, as I look around my house, trying to convince myself  to drag my fat rear off of the couch to take advantage of my little man napping by packing another box(more on that another day), vacuuming, making lunches, ironing, or attempting to win even a small battle in my ongoing war against the laundry room.....but no, here I sit, watching Dawson's Creek reruns on Netflix (stop judging me....no really, stop!) and yapping on incessantly about my coffee habit.  Eh, there's always tomorrow.

Just For Laughs

Well, SIT's blog suggestion for today was to repost a past blog you're really proud of.  Well, I don't know how "proud" I am of this, but it made me laugh out loud, and I figured, who doesn't need a good laugh, so, enjoy =o)

I am amazing!!! (October 10, 2009)

DISCLAIMER:  Please note, I use this blog as my own free therapy, so please take all ranting and raving with a grain of salt, as it is just the musings of a sleep deprived, overworked, underpaid, toddler chasing mommy =o)

Ever notice how prior to getting married, men are all "I can do it all"?  "I want to do my own laundry, I can clean my own dishes, oh honey, let ME clean the kitchen for you."  WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED!!!!!  I mean, I do have to admit, that I probably helped in creating the monster that I have today.  I grew up with Donna Reed for a mother.  She is domesticity(is that a word?) personified.  She made meals from scratch....and not just every now and then when she got all spunky and creative and tried to channel Martha Stewart.  No, everyday she made dinners and desserts and pies and bread!!!!  She also made most of my clothes until I was 9 and even made my dad's dress shirts and sport coats.  My dad, being the lovable color blind fellow that he is, needed my mom's help in clothes selection.  But in true Donna Reed form, she did his laundry, ironed his clothes everyday, put together his outfits.  Come on, I was bound to have some issues resulting from this kind of perfection.  Well, I tried to replicate my mother's uncanny ability to do everything for everyone and make it look effortless.....not so much for me, my friends.  Now don't get me wrong.  I like to do things for my husband.  My problem is that now I am taking care of my two year old "angel" all day, cleaning the house, washing the dishes, dealing with all of the fun of a toddler, then I get dinner ready for DH and Princess (which I do not have time to eat), run her to the babysitters, run back home, get ready for work, go to work, work, come home at 11pm to find the house a disaster and everyone asleep. (and yes I do know that was a rediculously long run on sentence)  So what do I do then, unbutton my shirt, straighten up the house, can't do the dishes b/c the kitchen is right by Princess's room, iron DH's clothes for the next morning, get his lunch ready then some time after midnight, I drop exhausted into bed until Princess wakes up one of her 3 times during the night.  Then at 6 am, the DH wakes up (which of course means I wake up, even if I can't drag my limp body out of bed) and REPEAT.  Moral of this story, clean the house every now and then, rub my back, give me a break and a lot of flowers, and tell me repeatedly how FREAKING amazing I am,  because, dang it, I deserve it!!!!!  

First Day of School

Ok, so I know this is just pre pre school (yes, I meant to put 2 pre's there), but still....it is the beginning of the end of my little baby being my little baby.  She of course, my little independent social butterfly, was like, peace Mom, see ya!  So much for the warm and fuzzies.  But, I do have to admit, that it was pretty cool to watch her, complete with backpack the size of her, walk into her very own classroom, ready to take on the world....no fear!  That's my girl!  And of course, pay back is a beautiful thing.  My litte angel has been depriving me of sleep, therefore sending me into a serious and desperate addiction to my morning (and sometimes all day) coffee.

Today, however, was my turn!  She was almost too cute and sweet sleeping all snuggled up.......

                            

                          ALMOST =O)

But, to make up for my inappropriate joy at waking my child up from a deep restful slumber, I made some special star shaped pancakes.  Does that absolve me?  

Picture of Brokenness

So, I have been in a bit of a spiritual slump as of late.  I know that the Lord is just waiting for me to lay down at His feet again, but I have been feeling cold and along and full of anxiety and stubbornly continuing to carry everything on my own.  So, this morning, with the heavy feeling of the last few days still fresh, I turned on the song, Beloved by Kari Jobe and began to read my Bible, forsaking all of my other normal attention stealers (Facebook, news and gossip...terrible to admit, but since I'm all vunerable right now, I figure I'd just go all out)  So I opened up looking for the story of Lazarus, hoping to find something to give me hope in my husband's healing. (The right side of his face is paralized from Bells Palsey).  Instead, I think I have found a key for the beginning of my own healing.  I read about Mary.  Now, I know about Mary and Martha and their different personalities.  I've heard the story a hundred times about Mary and the jar of perfume.  But today, I see this woman in a different light.  When Jesus, who had delayed his arrival, came to see Mary and Martha, Martha told Jesus that her brother, Lazarus, was dead and that if He had only come sooner, she knew He could have healed him.  He called for Mary to meet Him.  When she did, she said the same thing to Jesus.  However, she followed with something different.  She fell at His feet and started weeping.  I'm sure these tears were the tears of loss.  The Bible says that Jesus was "deeply moved in Spirit."  This verse precedes the shortest and most humanizing verse in the whole Bible for me...."Jesus wept."  Her broken spirit moved Jesus so deeply, that He wept with her.  Later, Mary took her jar of expensive perfume, which was worth a years wages.  She broke the jar and poured in on Jesus' feet and washed it off with her hair.  I've always read these stories seperately, but today was different.  Today, I see a woman who is filled with deep emotions and who sees the world differently.  She is artistic and sensitive and at times, openly broken.  Not only did Jesus not judge her for being this way, but He was moved deeply in His Spirit.  I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not, or what other people need me to be.  I, a sensitive and artistically minded woman, am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Today, I choose to be like Mary, raw and open and broken before my Savior.  He doesn't need me to be fixed and perfect, He needs me honest and true and broken so that He can create a masterpiece using the pieces of that I lay at His feet.