Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Hands

After praying and believing for his healing, a man in my small group died on Sunday. Do I feel sorry for him right now...uh...no. He is looking at the face of Jesus at this very moment...and I think THAT is something to be excited about! But. I have questions.

After praying life over a 5 year old boy from our church who fell in the creek for over an hour last week, he died. I have questions.

Our close friend's daughter had a sudden diabetes attack (they did not even know she HAD diabetes.) They almost lost her. But didn't. I have questions.

My body has let go of pregnancies long before it should have. I have questions.

How many more things can each of us add to this list. It could go on for a long while I am guessing.

But in the same breath, there is another list. Full of questions.

I have 3 absolutely beautiful healthy babies. Why me?

I was born not into poverty and sickness, but rather a country of wealth, health and influence. Why me?

I am free to wear what I want, say what I choose and believe what I will without a prison sentence impending. Why me?

I have truly amazing friends who encourage me, laugh with me, cry with me, shop with me...I am not lonely. Why me?

Even in my "lack" I have much MUCH to give. Why. Me.

Today, I feel humbled, and thankful.

Not because I have millions of dollars that can rescue millions of orphans, or because I have stockpiles of food to feed all the hungry, or because I have all the answers to sooth every mother's aching empty womb.

But because I am me. And I have these hands. That can hug one person who needs a friend. And I have these feet. That can walk to the store to bring that sick woman some soup. And I have this voice, that can speak for the tiny lives whose voices can not be heard, and so their lives are taken from them.

The feelings in my heart today remind me of a Jewel song...Hands. I leave you with the lyrics, and to consider, what is it that YOUR hands can do today? Don't judge your day on the harvest you reap, but rather by the seeds your plant.

"Hands"

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all OK
And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these
I won't be made useless
I won't be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear
My hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken
Poverty stole your golden shoes
It didn't steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
But I knew it wasn't ever after
We'll fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what's right
'Cause where there's a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing
My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
I am never broken
In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken
My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken
We are never broken
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's mind
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's heart
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's eyes
We are God's hands
We are God's hands

Thursday, May 21, 2009

I am.

If I have to one more time.....

...eat taco salad for dinner this week...

...say the words, "Put your whiny voice away."

...clean poo off my baby's NECK from an explosion that big...

...see another wrinkle carving it's way under my eye...

...get hit in the head with cheerios while driving...

...take 4 T3's just to curb a stress (or cheerio) induced headache...

...cry in front of my husband as I decide I am far too young to be "grown up"...

...buy the store brand instead of the name brand to save a whopping 50 cents...

...put off getting my roots done so that my 5 year old can bring a present to her bff's party...

...go to church music practice with a mixture of baby food and puke in my hair...

...trip over a pony/barbie/crown/purse/teddy/shoe...

...get up at 3:30 when all is still just to make sure 3 sleeping angels are still breathing...

...know my life is no longer my own...

...then I guess...

well,

I guess

I

am

a

mom.

Monday, May 18, 2009

NMM

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*Disclaimer...Not Me style*
I do not love to teach.
I did not graduate at the very top of my class with honors.
I did not get chosen out of the whole university to receive the Governor General's award for top grades and character.
I do not pride myself in what a great classroom I have.
If there is one thing that I feel good at, it would not be teaching.
I do not sound like a total pansy who is tooting her own horn...there is a point...as I am sure you have figured out by now....

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As I mentioned before, we were finally able to get together with 'Pumpkin Muffin play date Momma'. She has 2 darling boys who are similar in age to Princess B and Baby L. She is, also as mentioned before, one of the sweetest people on the planet. She has a lovely voice, and sings with me in our church. She has a beautiful smile that lights up any room. She has a love for pastries...I think, since our dates seem to include these things...which I am eternally grateful for. One more thing you should know about Pumpkin Muffin Play date Momma is...she's a teacher.

PDM (Play Date Momma from here on out) and I are both staying home for now with our growing babes. I, for one, am enjoying the time off, spending the days watching my children discover their world in only the most fascinating ways a child knows how.

But it's time to admit, I was not totally put to shame when I walked into PDM's home for the first time, and realized a fact that somewhat shocked the socks off of me.

Some are teachers because they study and learn, and some are teachers because they have no choice, it's who they are at their very core. PDM is a CORE chick!

I did not encounter anything that looked like this in her living room/kitchen:
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Or this:
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Or this:
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And even though, she totally did not shoot my 'amazing teacher' self-view right out the back door...I still couldn't break it to her...that the alphabet on her caterpillar...it's a bit messed up. ;)

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And now for a story that I could fill with "didn't happens" and "not me's", but instead, I'm just going to preface it with a great big GIANT "This did not happen at my house last night at 1:30 am."

The night was dark and still. I was deep in a non-conscious type slumber. Dreaming of a land far away full of warm beaches, lemon trees, and scuba gear. I am being roused by the sound of something clinking, something close. In my half delirium, I was able to peg the sound as the venetian blinds in my bedroom, only a mere 3 feet from where I lay. It has become a regular night habit as of late, for Princess B to join King Daddy and I in bed during the wee hours, and so I flipped my arm over to 'lovingly' prod Daddy G to ask him to get B away from the blinds. My arm landed on an empty space...he was not there. Hmm, probably watching a movie downstairs as he is a total night owl. Ok, guess I have to convince B into bed with me and to stop the annoying blind bashing that she was doing for an undisclosed to me reason. The goal for me, is not to move while attempting the coax into bed. I am comfy and warm and half dead feeling, so words are the first method..."B, honey, come to bed and snuggle Momma." *Nothing* "Baby, stop hitting the blinds and come jump into bed, it's sleepy time sweet pea." *More blind bashing, no B response.* Two or three more attempts at this, and I am getting a little miffed. Finally I open my eyes in the darkness, peer towards the window, and squint. I think I can *kind of* make out a little shadow, so direct my voice towards it, and coax, "Come here baby!" When I still didn't get a response, and my eyes were now beginning to adjust to the darkness, my whole body in a SPLIT instant became VERY aware...that Princess B was NOT in my room. For that second, my body was like it was in a horrible dream where I was paralyzed, and I could not move. But after that second was over, I bounded out of bed and sprinted to turn on the bathroom light outside of our room. I still heard the blinds bashing, and quickly peeked in on the girls...yep, both of em, faaaast asleep in their beds. So, then I creaked the door to our bedroom open just a crack, and with only the sliver of light from the bathroom behind me lighting the room, I was confronted with the banging blinds bandit...a HUGELY fat cat FLEW through my blinds and right onto the floor. I was SO stunned by this, that I immediately went into flight or fight and I guess decided to fight...I started hissing at the thing like a snake on steroids, and clapping my hands louder that any hockey fan, and freaked the living poo right out of that cat, that it jumped from the floor straight up to the height of my curtain rod and whipped himself back at the blinds, falling back out the second story window that my husband had opened when he came to bed...unbeknownst to me. It's still a toss up as to who was more freaked spitless, me or that cat...

That is what did not happen at my house at 1:30 last night.
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Wednesday, May 13, 2009

I never thought...

...that my vote REALLY made any difference.

Our Provincial election was yesterday.

I actually never even knew that little fact, until noon, when I opened the door (braless -awesome) and standing there was a candidate making sure he could "count on my vote." Right, voting. I guess we'll do it if we get around to it. I know, apathetic right? Honestly, I didn't even know who was running or what they stood for etc. Bottom line, I hadn't paid much attention to the elections this time around...and really...what does MY vote really do anyways.

In fact, if it weren't for King Daddy G doing some research and tossing our butts out the door to "go for a walk" in which we just "happened" to pass the voting polls on the way...I would not have marked an X on anything, but possibly a facebook survey that night.

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And would you believe...the one time I was wishy washy, and actually just voted as my husband voted and to be a good citizen...our newspaper front page boasted this in the morning:

In the riding of ------X------, Tuesday night's provincial election proved every single vote counts.

As of 12:30 a.m. on Wednesday morning (May 13) Elections BC had tallied a two vote margin of victory for candidate W.O who received 9,619 votes compared to 9,617 for long-time councilor and independent candidate V.H.

W.O was our guy. TWO votes. Hmm. Guess my sore gluteus maximus from that walk was somewhat worth it.

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And now for your random windows into my random life. (Notice how they might look a little different from yesterday's post.)

We did end up finally getting together with pumpkin muffin playdate momma , and I found it quite interesting to have a shining example of the difference between boys and girls when we made cookies. (Can you sense a pastry theme in these playdates? Me thinks my children or I shall never be sick again when she calls!!)
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Proof that spending hoards of cash on baby toys is essentially pointless.
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The smile that came right after...
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she secretly did this...
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That IS an awesome attempt at a self-pedicure, and did I mention there was bright pink lipstick also smeared into my carpet? Nothing that WD-40 couldn't whip out, but it's only because of this sweet girl that I am privy to this wisdom.

Our science class...discovering the circle of life.
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My happy teething little man...
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...and it's all due to this:
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A hazelwood teething necklace. I haven't had to give him any pain medication since he started wearing this, and I can say I notice a difference in irritability when he is not wearing it...so for now, it stays on, and he stays happy. Works for me!
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Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Old Fashioned Honesty

In honor of NotMeMonday...that was missed...

I just wanted to be REALLY honest with you all, and post some pictures of EXACTLY how things are in my house. I'm sure most of your homes will be JUST like mine...

I know, that when it's laundry time in my house...THIS is definitely the bliss that is felt:
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It's true, on some days, I just don't have as much time to make a stellar meal, and on days like that, the family will just have to deal with something sloppy and thrown together like this:
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I have some great friends whom I adore, who love to just pop in unannounced as they stroll the neighborhood drinking a latte, and on one such day this week, I was UTTERLY embarrassed when my house looked like THIS: (See the misplaced blanket?! TRAGIC!)
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One thing that TOTALLY bugs me is when you order something, and are really really really looking forward to receiving your something, and when it finally arrives...it's the WRONG something! That's what happened this week, when we received Queen S's new bed. And unfortunately, I am too lazy to do anything about it, so after many tears and tantrums, she has accepted that she will just have to settle for THIS:
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After a whole 3 weeks of being COMPLETELY inconvenienced by our backyard reno's, they are finally done. And to be honest, I'm not sure they were really worth it. I wanted something with a little more wow factor, but now that it's done, I guess I'll have to suck it up and try to like it:
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And that about rounds out my week.
Just like yours right. I know. I'm just every other average girl.
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Friday, May 8, 2009

Smashed Up and All

As soon as I heard that sound, I knew...this can't be good.

With my fists balled and my face tensed, I hesitantly rounded the kitchen corner and winced as I saw and realized that what had happened was actually much more than just the simple incident.

I knew there was a life lesson happening in my midst, and as I took a deep breath in, held back a solitary tear, calmed the voice in my head telling me these emotions are so silly for something so small...I actually thanked Jesus for being beside me, and for reminding me of this simple, yet profound truth:

He loves me...JUST the way I am.

Here's how I know.

In the last month or two I have begun to collect little things to add to the decor in my home...which if you know me at all...is WAY out of character. I'd much rather spend Daddy G's hard earned money (chuckle) on fun things for the kids, family outings, or a new summer wardrobe. But just recently, I have discovered, if I REALLY like the space I am living in, it makes for an overall happier Mommy, which in turn affects the whole fam-i-lam-i-ly! One of the things I have learned about myself on these home furnishing extravaganzas, is that...I have NO CLUE what my taste is. I see things that are beautiful, but are they attractive to me just because I know ____ will love them, or I saw something similar in ____'s home, so when she comes over, I know she'll approve? I am sensing a little of that achievement issue rising up, and at the end of the day, none of those pieces say ME...I need to choose things 'cause I like them...end of story.

Recently, I was sharing with my girlfriend Kirsten all of this and her Socrates-esque wisdom was to "not decorate your home for others, but just for you." Easy right? Hmm, not for the president of A.I.A. My goal had been to have my home look good so when we have people over, I am proud to have them in a beautiful space. Now, I am on a self discovery road that is showing me that even if I live in a place like...oh...I dunno...this

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or this

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(so sorry if you are reading my blog and this actually IS your house...just saying...uh, maybe a new paint job is a good investment? Or not? Whatever you like right?)

or if the sign to my place says this

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..it actually doesn't even matter to the people who matter! Because apparently, they just wanna hang out with me...and my family...and they actually LOVE me, no matter what vases are in my window.

Remember this:

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I am thankful for my kitchen window.

I am thankful for the 3 vases with flowers that everyone can see from the front of my house, so that they all know I have the prettiest window on the block. So that they all know I can impress. So that they all know I have a perfect life inside these walls. So that they all know I have achievement issues. Guess what?

I have become informed that God loves me with my pretty vases, or...


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...without.


When you have a moment, go over to Angie's post that was done almost a year ago exactly, that is so similar, and so beautiful, and says so much more eloquently, what I have learned here today.

Although, the smashed vases were an accident in this case, what God had in store for me to know about myself is not.

He wants me. Smashed up and all.

Just. The.Way. I. Am.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Monday, May 4, 2009

NMM

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I am SO happy to report that Mckmama has resumed her NotMeMonday posts, and now that most of you have been introduced to special boy Stellan's Momma, you best get on over there and read all the comedy in her carnival of confessions! HEAPS of others take part in this and link back to each other so you can calm your conscience with hundreds/thousands of admissions that *might* even be worse than your own. I actually have not, as of yet, joined in the whole link thing with everyone, as I kind of like to have an idea of who's reading my ramblings...type A control freak, remember? Maybe one day, I'll get the nerve, or the permission not to care, and sign up for the crazy blog traffic...but for now, you, my chocolates, are the special ones who get to read MY NMM's...and there are...a few.

Just tonight, as I was piling up the dinner ingredients in my arms from the fridge, Mr.Funny man Daddy G apparently thought it would be a great idea to tickle me...with my arms full. Subsequently, I can tell you, that of course, being perfect as I am, I did NOT drop a thing, especially a full glass jar of salsa RIGHT on my 4th toe, splitting in in shards. (Really, can you be mad at someone for tickling you? Well, when your bone is sticking out of your toe and your 3 year old brings her play Dr's kit over and your 5 year old it trying to sound out the expletive you just screamed out and is writing it on her report card I have to send back to school...yeah, he gets the silent treatment for a few minutes at least. NOT that this would ever happen in my house...I'm just saying...)

Evening church service. My baby is insanely tired and clingy, seeing as though it is almost 2 hours past his bedtime. I am holding all 29 pounds of his 10 month old self, when I notice his little girlfriend has just fallen and is now crying. Knowing I can not put my boy down, and remembering I actually do have two arms, I bend down to pick her up. There is NO way that she grabbed my shirt for leverage, and ended up pulling the right side completely down over my lacy bra-ed boobie. Of course, I was NOT at the very front of the church, and with no arms free to make this horrible situation right, I certainly would not just walk past rows of people, bra bared, and right out the side to go find a back room to die in. (Really hoping that 84 year old man in the 5th row keeps his head bowed to avoid a possible heart attack.) That poor poor girl. Whoever she is.

My pastor came to pick up King Daddy G yesterday. As he was waiting in his vehicle, windows rolled down, enjoying the sunshine and fresh breeze, our wonderful neighbor did not decide to scream at her son to come in like this," Hey you little s#it, stop b*tching and get inside now!" Awesome. Real classy. So glad that did NOT happen on my street...in front of my pastor.

We had a fabulous playdate planned for Friday. Baby L did not decide to boycott that by coughing all night and then puking right after I got off the phone with playdate Momma. And once I called playdate Momma back to inform her of the new circumstances that were not happening, she did not inform me that she was disappointed because they had made me my VERY favorite pumpkin muffins with cream cheese icing! (All pumpkin baking can be sent to my mailing address, complete with those envelopes exploding with cash I'm still waiting for.) After informing playdate Momma how bad I felt, she, being I am convinced, the sweetest person on the face of this planet, brought them to MY house!! And I can tell you that there is no possible way that all 10 of them were gone before the moon came up that night...cause who does that? Obviously someone who needs a 12 step program for pumpkin addictions...and we all know that's NOT ME!

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Friday, May 1, 2009

Ok, class~ Lesson time

(*Disclaimer: This is a loooong one, so you might want to make sure that baby has the whole box of cheerios to keep busy, and give your coffee a reheat...I'll wait....)

Just like you are totally obsessed with my blog (chuckle, snort), I too, am an avid blog stalker of a few witty blog mommas.

Tonight, as I was having my quiet time (yes, 3 year olds aren't the only ones allowed quiet time...the only difference is she throws a fit to let her out, and I throw a fit to let me in.)...I clicked on of my regular stalkees (that is a word...don't look it up), and the words screaming at me in bold font at the top of her page were, "Show Me Your Kitchen!"

Uhhh, come again?

Why in God's green earth would you want to see my kitchen? Oh, you're not really talking to me. You're talking to the other 2.5 million readers who have Martha Stewart and Ty Pennington personally come an accessorize their cooking spaces...ok, in that case, yeah...I wanna see those too. Oh, and you'll go first? You are too kind.

I had to laugh at the "I'm really interested in your kitchen" cover to show off my own beautiful things to you post.

Ok, now before you jump down my throat for being all judgmental, or maybe just mental, I have a point. And you might still like me after I make it, so just hang in there.

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Just over 7 years ago, an amazingly smart, bright, handsome and compassionate man asked me to be his wife. After I reminded Will Smith he was already married...baa hahaha...just kidding, King Daddy G was, and still is this fabulous man...and in agreeing to the good, bad and ugly with him, I was fully aware...I really WAS getting the ugly...not him you goobers, but his 1980 silver Buick. Hmm, silver sounds too distinguished...grey, it was grey. This car was as big as a motor home. Don't believe me? I still have 3 outstanding tickets from parallel parking too far out from the curb. No joke. I'd like to see that cop try to do a better job with what I'd been given! This car has plush bench seats...back AND front. Oh yeah, it'd be a swell make out car. But we were married...and we all know married people don't do those things. (**angel halo**) I was apparently a grown up now, since I was sporting double rings on that all-telling finger. And I felt like I needed a grown up car to match my new title and position. The Buick...was not it. So the moaning began.

Day and night, woah is me, who's lot in life is to crouch down as low as I can when I drive to avoid being seen by any cop who I owe parking ticket money to. I'm so embarrassed. This is so not me. When will our day come? Woah...woah is MEEEEEE.

Moan...complain...gripe....groan...grumble...bellyache...lament...snivel....you get it.

And guess what? Nothing changed. A shiny new Beamer didn't just show up in my driveway one morning because I had reached the magic number of complaints to get the "New Car" angels to step up some action on my behalf. Apparently, whiners get nothing. (A motto, now very commonly heard, from my lips to my children's ears on a daily basis.)

My old...ahem...wise in years and very knowledgeable husband made an off the cuff comment one day as he was heading out the door that has stuck with me to this day. He simply said, "You know...you are going to be driving that Buick until the day you decide to be thankful for it."
Rewind. Huh? Thankful...Buick...parlez vous anglais? Don't quite comprehend.

I thought to myself...would God...you know...my loving Father who wants to give me all good things... REALLY withhold that sleek sports car just to teach me a lesson? Nah. That can't be right. Right? Guys? Awww, crap. I feel a lesson coming on. I hate lessons. Unless I'm the one giving them. Which is why I opted to become a teacher. Just to make sure I was on the giving end of lessons as much as possible...I know...control freak. And I know. In a class of 30 five year olds, I am the one who usually goes home having been taught something new. Vicious.

Back to the Buick. Ok...if being thankful is the key to my new Lexus, then I better stick on my best "company's here" courtesy smile and be...choke, gag, thankful, for this great car...mumble mumble. Ok, I'm thankful...going to sleep now...car fairies, I am asleeeep...go ahead now and put those fun new keys under my pillow....

...nothing.

So it appears that God knows when you're faking. Not a great quality, when you know...you're faking. How in the world am I going to pull this off. To actually BE thankful for this horrifying eyesore that gets us from A to B.

**3:30 am~ phone rings**
Friend of a friend is in trouble. No one can pick her up. No one has a car. YOU have a car. Can YOU pick her up? Yes I can, here I come. I am thankful, I have car. WHA?? I am thankful! For this car! Call the presses!

**one week later**
~Sunfire for sale,special deal for cheap, you interested? Um, yes? YES! I am thankful! King Daddy G and I picked up that Sunfire with hot mags and tinted windows from a town of less than 5000 people. And you better BELIEVE we cruised that one main street up and down pumping out the Shania Twain from the only radio station that gets picked up there, and showed off our new ride to every Gramdma Popoofniack taking her evening stroll.

"You are going to be driving that Buick until the day you are thankful for it." Hmm, close. Very close. Is there a principle in effect here possibly? Hmmm, quite possibly.

**fast forward 5 years**

We have 2 children. We are renting a townhouse. It is small. We are pregnant. The house just got smaller. And...go.

Moan...complain...gripe....groan...grumble...bellyache...lament...snivel....and repeat.

How can I be thankful for something that is so obviously not meeting our needs? Yeah yeah...roof over our heads Charlie Brown teacher...wah wah wah wah...what was that, can't hear you?

Moan...complain...gripe....groan...grumble...bellyache...lament...snivel....and repeat.

**1 year later**
Still in townhouse. Baby is here. 3 babes under 5 in small living quarters. Not thankful. Nothing changes. I wonder why. Walls are not painted, not decorated. Don't want to stay here, not moving in is my position. Not thankful.

Suddenly. I get a hit in the head with the memory stick. Not literally. Don't go filing charges against an abusive husband. This memory stick only contained one picture. A grey...ahem...silver Buick. Awww man. Didn't I learn this lesson? Apparently not. For, I am still here.

And now insert reading aforementioned blog post about "Show me YOUR kitchen."

My kitchen is the size of a closet. There are no stainless steel appliances. No large bay windows with a sitting area beneath. No breakfast nook with leathered bar stools. There are certainly no marble counter tops and not even a dishwasher inside the actual kitchen...did I mention small as a closet? But. I CAN do something with what I have. And I CAN be thankful for the sunlight that does come through my teeny square window that doesn't even open. And so. Today, I begin my thankful for my home journey, to open the path that will one day lead us to our new hardwood floored destination. I am thankful for my home, one window at a time. (And just for the record...kids could care less about marble counter tops and hardwood floors. Tonight, when Queen S and I were talking about Heaven, she started to tear up and said she didn't really want to go there, because she likes living in HER house. *Tear*. Precious babe. Thank you. Mommy needed that.)

I am thankful for my kitchen window.

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