Month: November 2016

Lately, I’ve been in the desert. The hot, dry, barren desert. The desert for me is symbolic of my state of mind or state of spiritual mind. Here’s why I call it the desert. 
In the Bible, God’s people (the Israelites) were in slavery. Moses says, “God says to let His people go.” The pharaoh says, “no.” This back and forth continues while God sends a bunch of plagues to force the pharaoh to free the Israelites. Eventually, the pharaoh gives in and frees God’s people. And off they go, trudging through the hot desert. God led the journey of the Israelites through the desert to the promised land-a beautiful land of abundance. He stayed with his people while they were in the desert feeding them and caring for them on their journey. 

Once they reached the promised land, they were too afraid to enter. There is more to this story, but here’s the point. My blessings are here. They haven’t moved. I am surrounded by beauty and grace. I have hugs and snuggles. I have laughter and singing. My husband is sober, my children are fed, but I am human. I get discouraged, tired, scared, and overwhelmed. I am not living in bondage or slavery. But some days, I can’t seem to find my way into the promised land either. 

Some days I’m fumbling around, trying to put a smile on my face because I feel defeated. These are my desert days. God led the Israelites through the desert. He never left them. Actually, that was when He was the closest. He fed them just enough to keep them moving toward the promised land. He led them to it. But it was their job to enter. 

I’m going to allow myself a few days in the desert, because sometimes we just need to be dry and barren, and close to God’s presence where we have to rely on Him for every step. But we aren’t meant to stay there. 

Remember, there is great purpose in standing in each of these places. 

But we are meant to soak up the abundance of His blessings on us. He takes us right to the edge of the promised land, but we have to enter willingly.  Love and grace to each of you on this beautiful day. 

❤️ Shalom

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js”></script>

<script>

  (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({

    google_ad_client: “ca-pub-9948157167723556”,

    enable_page_level_ads: true

  });

</script>

There is no way to adequately express the chaos that ensues when I enter the kitchen to begin dinner preparations- unless you are a mom or a nanny. In that case, you understand perfectly.  When your husband comes in from work at 5:15 and the house that was clean half an hour ago is destroyed and dinner is nowehere near complete, and the children are running naked, in circles, with markers, eating crackers and suckers, he might give you a look. I hope for his sake it’s a what can I do to help look. While peeling potatoes….

• I was shot in the head with a dart gun. 
• The baby was in the knife drawer. 
• Someone was bleeding. 
• The boys turned off the lights while I was standing over the stove. 
• The baby got her foot stuck in the oven drawer handle. 
• One boy covered the dining room in Vaseline. 
• Caught baby sucking on the topless red marker. 
• The boys chased one another with a container of saline nasal spray (which I ignored until I heard, “spray it in her hair!” -they were after the baby).
• I tripped over the baby who was riding a semi truck through the kitchen. 
• I shimmied across the kitchen with a pot full of water heading toward the stove dragging a boy grasping onto each ankle. 
• Someone was bleeding.
• Stepped over a boy doing yoga, on my yoga mat that was stretched across the kitchen floor. 
• I dressed 6 superheroes.
• Got goosed by a light saber. 

So, I turn up the Lauren Daigle. And when I find myself feeling defeated,  I remember that I have almost survived another day. Actually, there’s a good chance we all will at this point. Well, maybe not the mashed potatoes. 

God is good. All the time. And luckily, my husband is kind enough to smile and eat the lumpy potatoes with grace. Because really, who has time to dirty up the mixer? 
❤️ Shalom
<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js”></script>

<script>

  (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({

    google_ad_client: “ca-pub-9948157167723556”,

    enable_page_level_ads: true

  });

</script>

My husband is one of the kindest most nurturing men I have ever known. He is incredible. With that being said, something happens to him in the delivery room. Something unexplainable. He loses all sense. I expected it to be like the videos. You know, wife hunkered over the bed in pain while her husband massages her back, wipes her face with a cold rag, feeds her ice chips……..

If any of your husbands played that part, congrats. Here’s what happened the first time around for us. 

Upon telling my husband it was time to go to the hospital, he had to take a shower. Ok. I get it. I waited. I packed the car with the bags I had packed. I rode to the hospital on a piece of plastic- because, you know, the interior. We got pulled over by a state trooper on the way because he was driving like a lunatic. After all, it was an emergency. He drops me at the front entrance alone, and I walk inside. 

Fast forward to the delivery room. He kept going in and out of the restroom. He made phone calls, checked Facebook, and went back into the restroom. I laid there breathing through my contractions. He made some more phone calls and a few more trips to the restroom. When the nurse came in and told me it was time to push, there was a defining moment for us. My dear husband’s response to the big news was, “not yet! I have to go to the bathroom!”

Silence fell over the room. We were all stricken in disbelief. I sat in the room with a 6lb baby pushing on my uterus and waited for my constipated husband to make one last trip to the restroom. When he reappeared, it was time. The nurse asked him to hold my leg like so. And guess what, he messed it up. His only job. This is where I realized my grave mistake. I had studied for months on who to allow in the delivery room. I landed on that oh so romantic idea of the intimacy of it just being he and I. But I realized at that moment, that I needed my sisters and my best friends. They would have fed me ice chips. They would have rubbed my back. They would have held my leg correctly. But instead, they had to stop at Walgreens to purchase medicine for my husband who was in great distress. 

The baby came. Everything went fine. My dear husband didn’t take a picture of me holding my newborn son. My only record is a picture of my breast and the baby’s head.Go figure.  Afterward, I realized that at no point during the process did my sweet Griff ask if I needed anything or if I was ok. We survived. Our marriage survived. But if I had only been smart enough to have my girls in there, the experience would have been different. 

I would like to say that he did much much better the second time around, but that isn’t completely true. I love him. He is a wonderful man. But I should have had my tribe in that delivery room. Women throughout history have known and done this. I guess I’m a slow learner. Here’s to a good chuckle on a Monday night! Love you ladies. Please stay tuned because part two is even better. 

-note: Griff never saw those sweet videos they show in childbirth class. The only birthing class my hubby offered to attend was the breastfeeding class because he thought………he might get to see some breasts. 

❤️ Shalom
<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js”></script>

<script>

  (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({

    google_ad_client: “ca-pub-9948157167723556”,

    enable_page_level_ads: true

  });

</script>

Y’all, why is the second one always dirty? No matter how many times a day you wipe his face, he will be dirty. No matter how expensive the clothes- homeless. It’s like it’s who they are. Pigpen. 

That second one cannot be tamed. He cannot be defeated. He might be the death of me. But wait, God made him so unbelievably beautiful. And I’m certain He made him so beautiful because He knew there would be times that I would briefly consider …….wait. He’s so perfect, I can’t kill him. 

Not once but twice, he has opened the sunroof while we were in the car wash. He shot the manger of Food Lion with a dart gun. He also found the water hose in the produce section at the same grocery store. And guess what? They don’t keep it turned off. He got his head stuck in the banisters of the staircase in our home. He screamed and kicked and stomped and cried every single day of preschool last year (minus maybe 6). Seriously, he was still crying in May. He urinates in the rocks in front of church. He locks me out of the car just for fun. He is always the first to hit. He told our superintendent, my boss, he could snap his head off. That second child is fierce.

 
He is also loyal. He is loving and very picky about his circle. He isn’t selfish. He gives his birthday toys or his very last piece of candy to his brothers and sisters. His love is deep and pure. He crawls into my lap, dirty face and ratted hair, and sweetly tells me I’m beautiful. He tells me that he loves me in the most genuine way. That second one is a doozy. I’m certain he will either go to prison or run a super church one day. He is a leader. He is a doer. And I pray he finds his way. I need this little guy to learn to use his talents for good. I’m certain he will change the world. 

Whew. That second child. His passion and love help to remind me of the good in the world while his shenanigans push me to the brink of insanity. If you see us in public, I apologize in advance. For he is my wild card. And God placed him in my home to make sure none of us ever got too comfy. Hug those second ones big. God made them very special. And the love they give us is pure. And a little crusty around the edges. 

❤️ Shalom
<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js”></script>

<script>

  (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({

    google_ad_client: “ca-pub-9948157167723556”,

    enable_page_level_ads: true

  });

</script>

I am so excited to start a new adventure in recording my family’s journey. Just as much, I am excited to reach out to other moms, who find themselves in the day to day chaos of surviving motherhood, wifehood, community, career, and trying to maintain some resemblance of ourselves. We need grace. And we need one another. I thought it was most fitting to begin in laughter. So, I shall first share some of my favorite mommy bloopers up to this point.

• Last Saturday night I got dressed, got the kids dressed, loaded them into the car, and drove across town to a birthday party. I had a gift. Granted, the gift was in a football gift bag for a 2 year old girl’s party and didn’t have a card. Nonetheless, it was kind of wrapped. I was on time. I was unstoppable. I walked into the YMCA and noticed someone was vaccuming. The lady at the counter gave me an odd glance and asked if she could help me. Draped in children, I asked where the party was and pity covered her face. She looked in the book and said the party was one week later. She felt so sorry for us, she offered to let my children play there for free for the remaining 30 minutes they were open. Oops.
• Last month, my preschooler’s class went to the pumpkin patch. His precious teacher sent me a picture of my son with his best friend. It was a sunny, sweet picture of two blonde beautiful boys holding pumpkins on a  hay ride. At that moment I noticed my son was wearing a Santa shirt. Oops.
• Four months after my second son was born I ventured into the chemistry closet at school to pump. It had been a crazy day. It was 2:30pm-my last pump of the day. I glanced down to make sure everything was going properly and thought, that’s strange. My pants were on backwards. The back pocket was on my abdomen. I had worn them that way all day. Oops.
• My most recent call to poison control: “Ma’am, we can send you a free magnet with our information on it to place in your house.”                           “No thank you, we already have three from previous calls.” Oops.
• Text from preschool teacher : Your son told another student to “wake his ass up” during nap time today. Oops.
• Sitting in the hospital room, naked, in labor with my third.  The nurse reentered expecting me to have on the hospital gown she left me with minutes before was stunned to see me still nude. I regretfully admitted that I had a Masters’ degree and had not the first idea how to put the gown on. Oops.
•  Took the boys into school during summer break. While standing in the principal’s office, the oldest pulled down his pants to pee, and the middle ate gummies off of the floor like a puppy. Cue my exit.

We need lots of laughter, lots of grace, and lots of God to survive in this house. Take a deep breath, Mommas. Breathe in all of that crazy. You are not alone. You are amazing. And no matter how messy it looks, it’s your beautiful mess.

❤️ Shalom

 

 

 

 

When the chaos settles, this space will be full of the debris.