I find few things more challenging than explaining difficult life lessons to my children. Sometimes, there simply aren't any good reasons things happen the way they do. People come into our lives for a quiet while...then leave. And while we know in our heads that the temporary hole that absence leaves within us is for our own good...convincing our hearts is a another story entirely. Still...trying to make sense of the senseless things life can throw our way is hard. Hell...its a nasty enough concept for me to grapple with; much less one's own children. But it must be done.
Recently, one of my daughters has been trying to come to terms with a relationship she has enjoyed with a certain close girlfriend and its tendency to wax and wane. It leans more towards the wane than anything else. Its been a tedious learning process for my girl. She isn't given to the typical teenage angst...so this development has befuddled her just a bit. However, in trying to help her along with the normal growing pains and pangs that a female friendship can sometimes go through...I have also confronted my own issues with it. Quite frankly...it sucks. Girls...both growing and grown...can be some of the nastiest and vile creatures on this planet. It never fails to amaze me how cruel and cut-throat some of these relationships can turn out to be. Thankfully, my daughter has not seen this flip side...yet. But she is getting a taste of how downright silly and juvenile an overabundance of estrogen can be. Trying to guide her through this maze has been headache inducing...to say the least.
Even as adults, we can't seem to escape it. Thank GOD I have a best friend with whom I have shared everything with. She knows me just as well as my husband does. And vice verse. But it wasn't always like that. It took a while and some toe-dipping into the friendship waters to test the current, if you will . And its been only recently that we have divulged every secret to one another. But it was oh-so worth it! This one union has made up for all the sophomoric-middle-school-mentality "friendships" we have both lived through. Its real. Its honest. Its dirty. Its rewarding. And unfortunately, I think you have to sift through a whole lot of rubble before you get to that friendship bedrock. I thank the Lord everyday for her.
So in explaining this theory that my best friend and I share in regards to true companionship...I hope my daughter(s) see the light at the end of the high school tunnel. Sometimes it takes going through the adult trials and tribulations to realize what a best friend should be...what they truly represent. I hope they see that you don't need 12 girls to call your BFF. You just need one you can call on no matter what the situation or time of day or night. And that one is always a God-given-gift...much like our spouses are.
I hate that cattiness and betrayal seem to be a part of the high school journey. It sucks big fat hairy monkey balls. But there is nothing to be done. Its a lesson that must be learned and heeded...like so many other life lessons.
Hug your daughters. They are going through so much more than we ever had to endure. There are so many more pit falls and sink holes for them to disappear into. Make it a little easier on them when they walk through the door. Hug their necks, kiss their foreheads and make sure they KNOW you understand. Make sure there is never any doubt that you have created a soft place for them to fall. Because one day...and not too terribly far off in the future...they will be the ones on the other side of that door. Instill in them now what it means to be a true friend so that they can recognize it in others and in themselves. Remember...great friends make GREATER moms.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Never forgotten...ever...
I WAS sitting at my desk working. I WAS accomplishing something other than creating pools of tears on my keyboard. I was. Until that is, I had the incredibly STUPID idea to turn on the news. This is something I rarely do. Sure...I will go online and read the blurbs and articles I choose to read...pieces that broaden my global knowledge...pieces that add to my life...pieces that teach me something or enlighten me and my family's journey on this jacked-up-chunk-o-rock we call Earth.
Then I read the story of Etan Patz. Etan IS a little boy...not WAS...but IS...because regardless of what some demented evil scum did to him...he will always and forever remain a six year old boy to his parents. Etan was taken, just steps from his bus stop on a damp Manhattan morning in 1979. His disappearance spear-headed the Kid-On-A-Milk-Carton movement. His precious face lead the charge for millions of other faces...forever a breakfast companion...forever in the back of, at least, my mind.
Today in Manhattan...in what I am sure is a building that has seen dozens of rebirths and renewals in an attempt to change with the times and current styles...the FBI and local authorities are searching yet again for the body of Eatn Patz. His body...and memory...was robbed of seeing such change. I am unsure of what new lead they think they have. I am unsure if after all these years they will find even the smallest shred of evidence. But I am sure that the search in and of itself is what matters most. It matters to Etan's parents and siblings that every lead be followed; every whisper be heard.
I truly feel in my soul that the long suspected and well known pedophile, Jose Antonio Ramos, is the satanic son-of-a-bitch responsible for the vanishing...and likely violent rape and murder...of sweet Etan. There are even theories that he "sold" Etan to other pedophiles. But due to his constant denial of full knowledge, I doubt very seriously that he will ever divulge what he did to Etan and continues to do to the Patz family. What has become a mind numbing reality and horrific nightmare for them is nothing but a sick game to Ramos.
My tears flow not only in honor of Etan but also out of painful respect for his family. And...for my own children as well. I cannot fathom what soul crushing pain is like. But I do know that for me, that pain would be instantaneous and never ending if anything even remotely similar were to befall my child . I imagine I would become very fixated on revenge. I imagine that I would have a very difficult time acting in a fashion that would make Jesus proud. Most especially if I ever got my hands on the demon responsible.
I don't consider myself a vengeful or dangerous person. But I can see me...and only if my husband didn't beat me to it...taking the law into my own hands. And doing so with a smile on my face. What our justice system does not TO...but FOR...these douche bags is very rarely acceptable. I say FOR because so often it seems they are slapped on the hand as if they have stolen a cookie rather than stolen the innocence of a child. When it comes to children, mercy and leniency should be taken off the table. I am very aware of the horrific historical connotations hangings have...and rightfully so. But for those who choose to hurt a child, a public hanging is in order. Wasting our already cash strapped resources on rehabilitation is pointless for the sickos who force themselves on our children....who torture them...who make them do things that will haunt them for the rest of their days. IF that is, they even survive the trauma.
I pray that some resolution comes of today's events. I pray that Etan Patz will not only be the face on a milk carton...but that he will also be the face of all of our children. Rest peacefully sweet Etan.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Floors and plays...plays and floors...
I gotta give it up to the blue collar workers more often. These fellas...and gals...have a fairly thankless job. I am speaking mainly of your plumbers, flooring specialists, painters or roofers. They walk into peoples' homes...usually in the midst a hot mess...and restore said abode to its previous splendor. And they do it in whatever weather...cold or hot...the good Lord decides to provide.
The gentlemen that saved our house from itself...this time around...have far and away out-shined the ones we had previously. The ones from two years ago were C.R.E.E.P.Y. This latest batch of callused contractors were...for the most part...very nice folk. They smelled bad. But that isn't due to a break up with hygiene. Its because they quite literally work in conditions that the average prissy pants...like MOI...would only do if it stood between her children and a meal or if a gun was held squarely against my sassy little head. Mud-caked boots and dirty fingernails isn't something...thank GOD...I have ever had to endure. And I have been immeasurably humbled over the last month for that fine blue-collar worker who sees those boots and fingernails as a blessing rather than a burden. Shame on me. Just shame on me.
However now...my second floor has bathroom flooring. Again. And the carpet has been replaced by a delightfully mocha hued high-pile that is nothing short of heaven under foot. Not gonna lie...me and all three kids laid in the floor for a good half hour. So fabulous!
So a big huge Laver THANK YOU to all those men who were a part of our home's decor over the last month. You have lessened the stress level within these walls and have restored a tradition long since abandoned...playing in the floor with my kids. Thank for that. Seriously...
Now...to brag over my sweet multi-talented Kate!!! She just completed...to RAVE reviews I might add...her very first high school theater production! She was "Velma" in West Side Story! She was beyond amazing! I think I was perhaps the only parent who attended all four nights it showed. Watching her up there...in her newest element...was surreal. Three months of DAILY rehearsals. Three months of lost sleep. Three months of coming home to a warmed up dinner because she was at school until 7pm...my girl is dedicated:) And she did all of this while living in a house whose floors were pulled up...she did all this while having to share a bathroom with 4 other people...she did all this while living with a mom who whose house-related-stress-levels were SKY FREAKIN HIGH! Come to think of it...this play was likely just the distraction she needed;)Regardless...she was phenomenal. I am so proud of her!
Thank you Lord for all the little...and in-my-face...ways you show your love, support and devotion to this family. You quite simply...ROCK.
The gentlemen that saved our house from itself...this time around...have far and away out-shined the ones we had previously. The ones from two years ago were C.R.E.E.P.Y. This latest batch of callused contractors were...for the most part...very nice folk. They smelled bad. But that isn't due to a break up with hygiene. Its because they quite literally work in conditions that the average prissy pants...like MOI...would only do if it stood between her children and a meal or if a gun was held squarely against my sassy little head. Mud-caked boots and dirty fingernails isn't something...thank GOD...I have ever had to endure. And I have been immeasurably humbled over the last month for that fine blue-collar worker who sees those boots and fingernails as a blessing rather than a burden. Shame on me. Just shame on me.
However now...my second floor has bathroom flooring. Again. And the carpet has been replaced by a delightfully mocha hued high-pile that is nothing short of heaven under foot. Not gonna lie...me and all three kids laid in the floor for a good half hour. So fabulous!
So a big huge Laver THANK YOU to all those men who were a part of our home's decor over the last month. You have lessened the stress level within these walls and have restored a tradition long since abandoned...playing in the floor with my kids. Thank for that. Seriously...
Now...to brag over my sweet multi-talented Kate!!! She just completed...to RAVE reviews I might add...her very first high school theater production! She was "Velma" in West Side Story! She was beyond amazing! I think I was perhaps the only parent who attended all four nights it showed. Watching her up there...in her newest element...was surreal. Three months of DAILY rehearsals. Three months of lost sleep. Three months of coming home to a warmed up dinner because she was at school until 7pm...my girl is dedicated:) And she did all of this while living in a house whose floors were pulled up...she did all this while having to share a bathroom with 4 other people...she did all this while living with a mom who whose house-related-stress-levels were SKY FREAKIN HIGH! Come to think of it...this play was likely just the distraction she needed;)Regardless...she was phenomenal. I am so proud of her!
Thank you Lord for all the little...and in-my-face...ways you show your love, support and devotion to this family. You quite simply...ROCK.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Best Weekend Ever!
What an incredibly blessed weekend The Lavers had! Saturday was spent at Sixflags seeing my best friend's daughter at her cheer competition. She was awesome! And lets face it...any time Nikki and I get to spend time together, its all gravy:)Then Sunday was witness to God's never ending and all encompassing provision. Jesse and I were reminded yet again of how utterly loving and in control our Savior truly is.
I always enjoy singing. Its what I do. Its a huge part of who I am. But to do it for a second time at the wedding of a woman I love so very much...was a miracle and a testament to the power of God's love and favor.
Jamie Janus was beloved by my family from day one. But when she became Jamie Lilly...her place at our family table was forever set. See...she married a man I always considered my God-brother. Loren was the best friend of my uncle Robert. Robert may be my father's brother, but due to our closeness in age and in spirit, "brother" is the title he will always hold with me. Robert and Loren were inseparable; which meant that Loren was a constant at every family gathering. I loved Loren so very much. And though he is gone, I still talk to him and count him as a very real and present part of our family...and of my life.
Ya see...Loren died just three months after marrying Jamie. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that those three months were the best of his life. She paved the road for him toward salvation and to fundamentally grow in his spirituality. She was quite literally a God-send to him. His death shocked us, shook us and changed us in ways we are still realizing and dealing with. Though we were left with tears and questions, what we weren't left with was doubt. We all knew where he was. We all knew that Loren was sitting at the feet of Jesus.
I cannot fathom the pain and the empty hole Jamie experienced. I pray fervently that I never become familiar with that. But what I have witnessed over the past five years is nothing short of a mighty and miraculous work in her life.
One day, Jamie met Mike. Mike is a Christian man. Mike loves Jamie. Jamie loves Mike. Mike allows Jamie to keep Loren's memory close. Loren would have been great friends with Mike...of that I am sure. And just like I sang at the wedding of Jamie and Loren, then later at the going-home of Loren...Sunday I was able to sing at the wedding of Jamie and Mike.
Seeing God do His thing is often something we overlook. Life is hard, fast and busy. But on days like this...its so very humbling to have the opportunity to take it all in. God always provides if we allow Him. God always holds our hand, carries our load, whispers His wisdom in a weary ear. I. Am. In. Awe. And I am guilty of failing to give Him all praise and glory in the minutia of my own life.
Thank you Lord for allowing me to stand back and be reminded of how insignificant I really am. You healed a heart that at one point was sure it would be forever broken. You showered love and acceptance on a soul that on many a night was positive it was lost and undeserving. You did this for Jamie. And this lesson is not lost on me either. Thank you is insufficient. But its all I have. That...and my love and devotion.
Here's to many years of Christ centered love and happiness to Mike and Jamie Mullis. And for me and Jesse as well. And...for all of you too.
I always enjoy singing. Its what I do. Its a huge part of who I am. But to do it for a second time at the wedding of a woman I love so very much...was a miracle and a testament to the power of God's love and favor.
Jamie Janus was beloved by my family from day one. But when she became Jamie Lilly...her place at our family table was forever set. See...she married a man I always considered my God-brother. Loren was the best friend of my uncle Robert. Robert may be my father's brother, but due to our closeness in age and in spirit, "brother" is the title he will always hold with me. Robert and Loren were inseparable; which meant that Loren was a constant at every family gathering. I loved Loren so very much. And though he is gone, I still talk to him and count him as a very real and present part of our family...and of my life.
Ya see...Loren died just three months after marrying Jamie. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that those three months were the best of his life. She paved the road for him toward salvation and to fundamentally grow in his spirituality. She was quite literally a God-send to him. His death shocked us, shook us and changed us in ways we are still realizing and dealing with. Though we were left with tears and questions, what we weren't left with was doubt. We all knew where he was. We all knew that Loren was sitting at the feet of Jesus.
I cannot fathom the pain and the empty hole Jamie experienced. I pray fervently that I never become familiar with that. But what I have witnessed over the past five years is nothing short of a mighty and miraculous work in her life.
One day, Jamie met Mike. Mike is a Christian man. Mike loves Jamie. Jamie loves Mike. Mike allows Jamie to keep Loren's memory close. Loren would have been great friends with Mike...of that I am sure. And just like I sang at the wedding of Jamie and Loren, then later at the going-home of Loren...Sunday I was able to sing at the wedding of Jamie and Mike.
Seeing God do His thing is often something we overlook. Life is hard, fast and busy. But on days like this...its so very humbling to have the opportunity to take it all in. God always provides if we allow Him. God always holds our hand, carries our load, whispers His wisdom in a weary ear. I. Am. In. Awe. And I am guilty of failing to give Him all praise and glory in the minutia of my own life.
Thank you Lord for allowing me to stand back and be reminded of how insignificant I really am. You healed a heart that at one point was sure it would be forever broken. You showered love and acceptance on a soul that on many a night was positive it was lost and undeserving. You did this for Jamie. And this lesson is not lost on me either. Thank you is insufficient. But its all I have. That...and my love and devotion.
Here's to many years of Christ centered love and happiness to Mike and Jamie Mullis. And for me and Jesse as well. And...for all of you too.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Worry is an insult to God. And I have been insulting the mess out of Him!
Blessed. That's all I can say...I am blessed. I woke up this morning with a weariness. But as my morning progressed...getting my kids ready for school, looking at the as-yet-to-be-repaired flooring, rushing them out the door, listening to their silly cute-as-heck conversations...God thwopped me again. YOU ARE BLESSED! YOU ARE MY CHILD! WORRY IS A SLAP IN MY FACE! DO NOT PRAY AND JOURNAL YOUR PRAYER CONCERNS TO ME AND THEN TAKE THEM BACK! I DIED FOR YOU. LIVE FOR ME! Its true. I am so guilty of this. Asking God to handle my worries, my concerns, then failing to trust Him enough to toss them away...to the depths of the ocean. I consistently feel the need to dive back into that water to retrieve them. Because they are my cares. They belong to me; with me. Right? Such a difficult lesson. But I'm trying very hard to see in myself what God sees. A beloved, worthy, beautiful child of...well...HIM.
I mean lets face it: I mess up enough in life with things that I have no control over.(don't we all?) Do I really need to add to my mess by holding onto worry too? No. No I do not.
So today marks yet another start of me trying...prayerfully not in vain this time...to let it go and let God. Because at the beginning and end of every day...I am blessed. Blessed beyond all measure.
I am blessed to be married to Jesse. After nearly 16 years of marriage...you come to realize that while it hasn't always been blissful, it has indeed always been blessed. What an honor to be his wife. I don't say that enough...out loud anyway. I need to do a better job of being worthy of him.
Kate...my sweet kooky and quirky Kate. My first baby...my first blessing. What a joy this young woman is! I need to do a better job of relating to her as the teenager she is. Sometimes I forget that she isn't 30:) Thank you God for this amazing daughter who is turning into an equally amazing friend.
Emmy Jean...my Broadway bound beauty! There is quite honestly never a dull...or quiet...moment with her. Whether having an intelligent conversation, doing homework, reading a book, watching tv, or drying her hair...this kid is constantly singing or humming! Its hilarious! I need to do a better job of busting her out of this "middle child" pigeon-hold. She is a force to be reckoned with! And I thank God for every single music filled moment with her.
Jax. Just Jax. Those who know him...love him. Those who don't...have heard wild tale of him! He is my miracle baby. He is quite literally a gift from God...his life marks a huge spiritual awakening for me. I couldn't love this kid more if I had to...at least until tomorrow:)
And these are just the blessings inside the walls of my home! I have so many more God-given gifts in the form of friends and family. I am convicted today of neglecting to tell each of them more often how very much I love them.
God has directed me to neither worry nor fear. So that is precisely what I will try my very best to do. Because the blessings that He has seen fit to give me...show me I am a favored child. His child.
I mean lets face it: I mess up enough in life with things that I have no control over.(don't we all?) Do I really need to add to my mess by holding onto worry too? No. No I do not.
So today marks yet another start of me trying...prayerfully not in vain this time...to let it go and let God. Because at the beginning and end of every day...I am blessed. Blessed beyond all measure.
I am blessed to be married to Jesse. After nearly 16 years of marriage...you come to realize that while it hasn't always been blissful, it has indeed always been blessed. What an honor to be his wife. I don't say that enough...out loud anyway. I need to do a better job of being worthy of him.
Kate...my sweet kooky and quirky Kate. My first baby...my first blessing. What a joy this young woman is! I need to do a better job of relating to her as the teenager she is. Sometimes I forget that she isn't 30:) Thank you God for this amazing daughter who is turning into an equally amazing friend.
Emmy Jean...my Broadway bound beauty! There is quite honestly never a dull...or quiet...moment with her. Whether having an intelligent conversation, doing homework, reading a book, watching tv, or drying her hair...this kid is constantly singing or humming! Its hilarious! I need to do a better job of busting her out of this "middle child" pigeon-hold. She is a force to be reckoned with! And I thank God for every single music filled moment with her.
Jax. Just Jax. Those who know him...love him. Those who don't...have heard wild tale of him! He is my miracle baby. He is quite literally a gift from God...his life marks a huge spiritual awakening for me. I couldn't love this kid more if I had to...at least until tomorrow:)
And these are just the blessings inside the walls of my home! I have so many more God-given gifts in the form of friends and family. I am convicted today of neglecting to tell each of them more often how very much I love them.
God has directed me to neither worry nor fear. So that is precisely what I will try my very best to do. Because the blessings that He has seen fit to give me...show me I am a favored child. His child.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Lessons on Life...from birds. Yes...birds.
I gotta tell ya...I've had better days. Hell...I've had migraines whose company I've enjoyed more than this whole week thus far. I have never been one to mope or worry too terribly much...at least not about the big things. Shamefully, its the little, everyday annoyances that seem to get the best of me. I should have anticipated a biggie when my daily verse this morning centered around 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 "We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed."
I am struggling just a touch with a dear friend's perception of me. And by struggling I mean vacillating between the "how dare she" mentality and crying in the bathroom over what is looking like a broken friendship. And by broken I mean into shards...teeny tiny shards of friendship glass that have inevitably scattered under the fridge or stove...making a total healing virtually impossible because you can never ever find every little piece. There are always some pieces that stay lost.
As I spoke to my best friend about this...who is a gift from Jesus akin to my husband and my children... she helped me see roughly the very same lesson that my aforementioned dear husband has always been wont to cling to: "What people think of me is none of my business" Easy for him...he's a man who is perfectly content to have exactly two friends in this world...me and my best friend's husband. And he is so super cool with that, ya just don't even know. My husband has never been one to subscribe to the notion that one should have scads of friends-pals-confidants. His mantra has always been "the fewer people in your trusted inner circle, the better". And I gotta tell ya...The Spy's logic has come to fruition it would seem.
Could it really be true that women who "collect" BFF's are ultimately doomed to collect heart break as well? I don't know. I just don't know. But what I do know is this: apparently I need to face one of my biggest fears...BIRDS.
The last few days I have been re-reading Joyce Meyer's "Battlefield Of The Mind". In her chapter "An Anxious and Worried Mind" she explains that we should look to the birds for a good ole' fashioned slap in the face about worry. Matthew 6:2 shouts "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father keeps feeding them. Are you not worth more than they?" Joyce goes on to teach..."If not everyday, then at least every now and then we need to take to observe and remind ourselves how well our feathered friends are cared for. They literally do not know where their next meal is coming from. Yet I have never personally seen a bird sitting on a tree branch having a nervous breakdown due to worry."
Wow. Just wow. God is forever thwopping me upside the head about something. Sometimes He holds my hand so tightly that I am unaware of how strong His grip on my tongue is...I LOVE it when He does that! Sometimes He gives me a verse or a single word that lights my path for the entire day and I have a clarity like I have never known. Or like today...when He shows me...through Joyce Meyer...that while I may hate birds (because they kinda freak me out) He can still give me a powerful lesson on the destructive power and futility of worry...through birds:)
My "Daddy" is so awesome. He never fails to be my armour and my shield against not only Satan but of Earthly trials as well. So my answer to THE enemy or any enemy is quite simple...when faced with the question of "What now?" I will say "I don't know yet what I am going to do in my situation, but God does know and that is good enough for me. He will give me direction at the right time."
As for my friend and what she thinks...there isn't a thing I can do or say. If my head hits the pillow and I know in the deepest parts of me that I am in line with God, my husband and my children...nothing else matters. Perhaps this is just another way that Jesus is helping me align my life with a more simple and authentic path. I certainly know one thing: God knows more and better than me. I am thankful for journeys taken and journeys to come...
I am struggling just a touch with a dear friend's perception of me. And by struggling I mean vacillating between the "how dare she" mentality and crying in the bathroom over what is looking like a broken friendship. And by broken I mean into shards...teeny tiny shards of friendship glass that have inevitably scattered under the fridge or stove...making a total healing virtually impossible because you can never ever find every little piece. There are always some pieces that stay lost.
As I spoke to my best friend about this...who is a gift from Jesus akin to my husband and my children... she helped me see roughly the very same lesson that my aforementioned dear husband has always been wont to cling to: "What people think of me is none of my business" Easy for him...he's a man who is perfectly content to have exactly two friends in this world...me and my best friend's husband. And he is so super cool with that, ya just don't even know. My husband has never been one to subscribe to the notion that one should have scads of friends-pals-confidants. His mantra has always been "the fewer people in your trusted inner circle, the better". And I gotta tell ya...The Spy's logic has come to fruition it would seem.
Could it really be true that women who "collect" BFF's are ultimately doomed to collect heart break as well? I don't know. I just don't know. But what I do know is this: apparently I need to face one of my biggest fears...BIRDS.
The last few days I have been re-reading Joyce Meyer's "Battlefield Of The Mind". In her chapter "An Anxious and Worried Mind" she explains that we should look to the birds for a good ole' fashioned slap in the face about worry. Matthew 6:2 shouts "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father keeps feeding them. Are you not worth more than they?" Joyce goes on to teach..."If not everyday, then at least every now and then we need to take to observe and remind ourselves how well our feathered friends are cared for. They literally do not know where their next meal is coming from. Yet I have never personally seen a bird sitting on a tree branch having a nervous breakdown due to worry."
Wow. Just wow. God is forever thwopping me upside the head about something. Sometimes He holds my hand so tightly that I am unaware of how strong His grip on my tongue is...I LOVE it when He does that! Sometimes He gives me a verse or a single word that lights my path for the entire day and I have a clarity like I have never known. Or like today...when He shows me...through Joyce Meyer...that while I may hate birds (because they kinda freak me out) He can still give me a powerful lesson on the destructive power and futility of worry...through birds:)
My "Daddy" is so awesome. He never fails to be my armour and my shield against not only Satan but of Earthly trials as well. So my answer to THE enemy or any enemy is quite simple...when faced with the question of "What now?" I will say "I don't know yet what I am going to do in my situation, but God does know and that is good enough for me. He will give me direction at the right time."
As for my friend and what she thinks...there isn't a thing I can do or say. If my head hits the pillow and I know in the deepest parts of me that I am in line with God, my husband and my children...nothing else matters. Perhaps this is just another way that Jesus is helping me align my life with a more simple and authentic path. I certainly know one thing: God knows more and better than me. I am thankful for journeys taken and journeys to come...
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Two Weeks...of Fresh Hell.
Two weeks. A lot can happen in two weeks. You can give notice at your place of employment. You can flit about Europe with your family. You can take a crash course in gardening...only to find that you wasted every penny because you suck big-fat-hairy-ones at anything even remotely related to soil. You can come to terms with the gut wrenching heart break over the ending of a friendship that was sadly very one-sided anyway. But what absolutely CANNOT happen in two weeks is...CONSTRUCTION!!!
If a contractor strides into your home, looks at your home's issues and declares with an authority akin to John Wayne..."Well I can have this hitched up in less than two weeks Mam."...HE IS LYING!!!!!! I so wish people would just give me a straight up honest assessment of things like this. "Mam, your house is pretty fubared. You need to expect us to be in your house and all up in your business for at least four weeks. Maybe five if El Nino rears his ugly head. Six if my gout flares." THAT is a time table I would believe. But two weeks? Um...not so much.
I guess if any good is coming out of my home's latest Bi-Polar episode...it would be that now we don't have to hire anyone to paint the kitchen and the upstairs. We also won't be forking out $2000 for new carpet. Viva la Home Owner's Insurance! The downside being of course that we will have who knows how many smelly, anal-cleft-showin', scraggly handy men clomping all through our home. Ya know what...that's not fair. I'm sure they aren't all like that. I have several friends who ended up with some mighty delightful looking young gentlemen tending their home's various woes. It just seems that MY house prefers em' big, stupid and smelly.
And while we are on the subject of stinky...can I just offer this teensy nugget of advice to contractors? Invest in a Port-O-Potty!!! No one enjoys hearing your breakfast burrito and value meal roaring out of your butt in our bathrooms. Its disgusting actually. Please go poop in your own private closet in the drive way. Or stop eating things that burn a hole through our toilets...and our souls. Seriously.
So as our newest remodel baby prepares for her painful birth...I ask that you keep all us Lavers in your prayers. Cause' we are gonna need them. Especially since Home Depot just called and informed me that the bathroom flooring and carpet we want will be here soon...in two weeks. Awesome. Just fricken awesome.
If a contractor strides into your home, looks at your home's issues and declares with an authority akin to John Wayne..."Well I can have this hitched up in less than two weeks Mam."...HE IS LYING!!!!!! I so wish people would just give me a straight up honest assessment of things like this. "Mam, your house is pretty fubared. You need to expect us to be in your house and all up in your business for at least four weeks. Maybe five if El Nino rears his ugly head. Six if my gout flares." THAT is a time table I would believe. But two weeks? Um...not so much.
I guess if any good is coming out of my home's latest Bi-Polar episode...it would be that now we don't have to hire anyone to paint the kitchen and the upstairs. We also won't be forking out $2000 for new carpet. Viva la Home Owner's Insurance! The downside being of course that we will have who knows how many smelly, anal-cleft-showin', scraggly handy men clomping all through our home. Ya know what...that's not fair. I'm sure they aren't all like that. I have several friends who ended up with some mighty delightful looking young gentlemen tending their home's various woes. It just seems that MY house prefers em' big, stupid and smelly.
And while we are on the subject of stinky...can I just offer this teensy nugget of advice to contractors? Invest in a Port-O-Potty!!! No one enjoys hearing your breakfast burrito and value meal roaring out of your butt in our bathrooms. Its disgusting actually. Please go poop in your own private closet in the drive way. Or stop eating things that burn a hole through our toilets...and our souls. Seriously.
So as our newest remodel baby prepares for her painful birth...I ask that you keep all us Lavers in your prayers. Cause' we are gonna need them. Especially since Home Depot just called and informed me that the bathroom flooring and carpet we want will be here soon...in two weeks. Awesome. Just fricken awesome.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Irish eyes are a' smilin'....right?
Oh my Irish Lord. Its happened again. Spring is the time of renewal and rebirth. And my house has seen fit to take this change literally. Every year...a week after my birthday...which is St. Patrick's Day...my family endures some kind of home related mishap. Whether it be a dishwasher leak that floods the house, a tree bigger than the Cliffs of Moher slamming into our existence, the need for not one but TWO septic tanks to be outfitted in our front and side yards because we are in fact THAT full of shit. Or perhaps its a toilet tank that decides to stop working and floods the ENTIRE upstairs of our home with water...which happens to be the latest in the litany of Irish disasters to befall our humble abode.
What in the name of all things GREEN is going on? Picture this: when stressed and stretched beyond all reasonable expectations, I cry. Boldly, unabashedly, and with little regard to whom may encounter my display of Irish pissiness. I am awakened this morning by my nine year old son walking...very calmly mind you...into our room to inform us that "Hey guys, just to let you know, the carpet is WAY wet outside the bathroom up here. No biggie though. Go back to sleep." Well...Jesse...my adoring husband...springs into action(like the Irish one:) and proceeds to check out the issue. Not quite 10 seconds later I hear "^%^%$#%^%&^*&(()_()*(&*^*^&*^&^$%$!!!!!!" And so began my 2 hour tear fest. I knew this was not to be our usual Saturday morn.
Upon closer and cussier inspection, our ENTIRE top floor was drenched. Carpet was soaked and closets were in the process of flooding. Water was collecting in the ceiling in the kitchen, which is directly below the bathroom in question. My beloved kitchen chandelier was FULL...and I do mean FULL...of water. There was a perfect outline of the bathroom floor on the kitchen ceiling. Water had infiltrated the walls in the kitchen...flowing ever so gently into The Spy's office in the basement. Chaos. Total and complete chaos. We were straight up cursing in tongues y'all...no lie.
So...we called our insurance company for yet ANOTHER claim. They sent out Justin from Service Pro. Lovely lovely man. He pulled up carpet, bathroom tile, base boards...he took care of the issues at hand. Since we are no strangers to the huge industrial dryers they install for water related claims...we knew what to expect: NOISE. unadulterated, mind numbing, make-ya-wanna-kick-a-puppy NOISE. We got it. Its great. Its 4 days of great in fact. But then begins the infestation of contractors to lay new carpet, tile, paint the kitchen...possibly put up a new wall in the kitchen if it fails to dry out properly. Did I mention that I opened up my best bottle of Rothschild at noon today? I so did. And it was GOOD. Very. Very. GOOD.
Now we are left with bare sub flooring, water stained ceilings and walls and the inescapable notion that maybe...JUST maybe...this is God's way of taking care of us.
You see...we have been stressing out...well ok, I have been stressing out...over the fact that we were going to have to use my husband's bonus to pay for routine upkeep and maitanence of our home to ready it for sale. Losing ANY portion of that bonus would have meant losing a down payment on a new home. It would have meant that our daughter would have to wait on getting her first car. It would have meant a lot of little things that would then add up to a lot of bigger things. So perhaps God has allowed our home to stick to its regularly scheduled programming of FUBARING us in the butt so that we could keep that bonus for what HE deems necessary. My husband...GOD love him...is very adept at seeing the bigger picture. He pointed this subtle nuance out to me. I pray that yes... Yes indeed Jesus is shining down on us in ways we cannot possibly fathom while in the middle of stress and strife. I pray that my hormonal...freak first ask questions later...mentality is just giving my Savior a chuckle.
A big fat gut busting chuckle. From my mouth to your ear God. For. Realz.
What in the name of all things GREEN is going on? Picture this: when stressed and stretched beyond all reasonable expectations, I cry. Boldly, unabashedly, and with little regard to whom may encounter my display of Irish pissiness. I am awakened this morning by my nine year old son walking...very calmly mind you...into our room to inform us that "Hey guys, just to let you know, the carpet is WAY wet outside the bathroom up here. No biggie though. Go back to sleep." Well...Jesse...my adoring husband...springs into action(like the Irish one:) and proceeds to check out the issue. Not quite 10 seconds later I hear "^%^%$#%^%&^*&(()_()*(&*^*^&*^&^$%$!!!!!!" And so began my 2 hour tear fest. I knew this was not to be our usual Saturday morn.
Upon closer and cussier inspection, our ENTIRE top floor was drenched. Carpet was soaked and closets were in the process of flooding. Water was collecting in the ceiling in the kitchen, which is directly below the bathroom in question. My beloved kitchen chandelier was FULL...and I do mean FULL...of water. There was a perfect outline of the bathroom floor on the kitchen ceiling. Water had infiltrated the walls in the kitchen...flowing ever so gently into The Spy's office in the basement. Chaos. Total and complete chaos. We were straight up cursing in tongues y'all...no lie.
So...we called our insurance company for yet ANOTHER claim. They sent out Justin from Service Pro. Lovely lovely man. He pulled up carpet, bathroom tile, base boards...he took care of the issues at hand. Since we are no strangers to the huge industrial dryers they install for water related claims...we knew what to expect: NOISE. unadulterated, mind numbing, make-ya-wanna-kick-a-puppy NOISE. We got it. Its great. Its 4 days of great in fact. But then begins the infestation of contractors to lay new carpet, tile, paint the kitchen...possibly put up a new wall in the kitchen if it fails to dry out properly. Did I mention that I opened up my best bottle of Rothschild at noon today? I so did. And it was GOOD. Very. Very. GOOD.
Now we are left with bare sub flooring, water stained ceilings and walls and the inescapable notion that maybe...JUST maybe...this is God's way of taking care of us.
You see...we have been stressing out...well ok, I have been stressing out...over the fact that we were going to have to use my husband's bonus to pay for routine upkeep and maitanence of our home to ready it for sale. Losing ANY portion of that bonus would have meant losing a down payment on a new home. It would have meant that our daughter would have to wait on getting her first car. It would have meant a lot of little things that would then add up to a lot of bigger things. So perhaps God has allowed our home to stick to its regularly scheduled programming of FUBARING us in the butt so that we could keep that bonus for what HE deems necessary. My husband...GOD love him...is very adept at seeing the bigger picture. He pointed this subtle nuance out to me. I pray that yes... Yes indeed Jesus is shining down on us in ways we cannot possibly fathom while in the middle of stress and strife. I pray that my hormonal...freak first ask questions later...mentality is just giving my Savior a chuckle.
A big fat gut busting chuckle. From my mouth to your ear God. For. Realz.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Even at 38, lessons must be learned. Damnit.
Its been just a little bit since I have had the time to write. I have missed it ever so. During the last couple of weeks I have celebrated a birthday...my 38th thank you very much...I have reconnected with a certain member of my family that I love oh so very much (with whom I share a history so deep and profound that to allow "life" to get in our way again would be damn near criminal:)...and I have have realized yet again that while my husband may be a man of few words, he certainly has the uncanny ability to draw a line through all my junk and leave me with an authentic and true outline of what is important in my life.
I also learned another lesson...one that I have known since puberty but apparently life thought it necessary to lob at me once more...just for good measure. WOMEN ARE MEAN! Seriously...its as if some truly never out grow their middle school mentalities and just keep driving the beeotch truck right through their lives and everyone else's. I have so little understanding of this kind of woman...the ones that have to cut you down to make themselves feel better...the ones that look at you as though you are the hired help...the ones who dance around insults because they lack the balls to just say what they want to say...the ones who can afford the therapy they so desperately need, but for whatever reason, never seek. But while I have trouble understanding them, I do have pity on them. Because I fear they will never experience lasting female companionship and all the awesomeness that comes along with uplifting and supporting one another. I suppose its that pity...or even compassion if you will...that prevents me from responding to their venomous attacks in kind. I like to think I am gifted in the way of answering their acerbic calls with a softer, sweeter tasting, retort.
And this brings me to my next point: Ladies...when a friend has a differing logic, an alternate delivery, or simply a situational awareness unlike your own...listen. Do not attack and make the other feel as if their opinion is unimportant or stupid. Or even worse...wrong. As women...and especially women who have daughters, like me...we must always practice acceptance. Not only of the individual, but of their unique opinions as well. I hope I am teaching my daughters that there will always be multiple ways of responding to and handling issues that arise with friends and acquaintances. It can't always be about how WE feel. I truly pray I am giving my girls the tools to recognize that when something starts to become too much about them...prayerful consideration is required to insure that their words don't cause more harm than good.
Because in the end...its not just the bullies we need to look out for. Sometimes, the person in the mirror or the ones we love and call friend or sister, can be the mean woman.
I sincerely pray that my girls will always cling to Matthew 5:39 and have the presence of mind to turn the other cheek and choose their words carefully. And when their humanness fails them...I pray they say two very small but very powerful words. "I'm sorry". Because when they aren't said, hurt and resentment can build. Which totally defeats the purpose of living an authentic life. Lord...let my babies learn this lesson early. Amen.
I also learned another lesson...one that I have known since puberty but apparently life thought it necessary to lob at me once more...just for good measure. WOMEN ARE MEAN! Seriously...its as if some truly never out grow their middle school mentalities and just keep driving the beeotch truck right through their lives and everyone else's. I have so little understanding of this kind of woman...the ones that have to cut you down to make themselves feel better...the ones that look at you as though you are the hired help...the ones who dance around insults because they lack the balls to just say what they want to say...the ones who can afford the therapy they so desperately need, but for whatever reason, never seek. But while I have trouble understanding them, I do have pity on them. Because I fear they will never experience lasting female companionship and all the awesomeness that comes along with uplifting and supporting one another. I suppose its that pity...or even compassion if you will...that prevents me from responding to their venomous attacks in kind. I like to think I am gifted in the way of answering their acerbic calls with a softer, sweeter tasting, retort.
And this brings me to my next point: Ladies...when a friend has a differing logic, an alternate delivery, or simply a situational awareness unlike your own...listen. Do not attack and make the other feel as if their opinion is unimportant or stupid. Or even worse...wrong. As women...and especially women who have daughters, like me...we must always practice acceptance. Not only of the individual, but of their unique opinions as well. I hope I am teaching my daughters that there will always be multiple ways of responding to and handling issues that arise with friends and acquaintances. It can't always be about how WE feel. I truly pray I am giving my girls the tools to recognize that when something starts to become too much about them...prayerful consideration is required to insure that their words don't cause more harm than good.
Because in the end...its not just the bullies we need to look out for. Sometimes, the person in the mirror or the ones we love and call friend or sister, can be the mean woman.
I sincerely pray that my girls will always cling to Matthew 5:39 and have the presence of mind to turn the other cheek and choose their words carefully. And when their humanness fails them...I pray they say two very small but very powerful words. "I'm sorry". Because when they aren't said, hurt and resentment can build. Which totally defeats the purpose of living an authentic life. Lord...let my babies learn this lesson early. Amen.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
DMV Nostalgia...
Holy fricken crap. I just scheduled an appt for my oldest to get her learner's permit. How. Did. This. Happen?????? Under what rock have I been hiding to have skipped to THIS part of her life already? It feels like only yesterday that she would fall down the front porch stairs, skin her knees, run to me for comfort and end up falling asleep in my lap. It feels like just the other day that she literally could not turn her light out if I didn't sing the lullaby I wrote for her. It feels like a split second ago that she refused to spend the night at a friend's home because she was afraid her sister would be too lonely without her. It feels like my heart is breaking into a million jagged little pieces.
Flashes of tiny truths blind me daily. I am in the decade of my life that she will leave home and begin her own journey. She will get a serious boyfriend. She will experience earth shattering heartbreak. She will chase success only to find that failure has caught up to her first. She will cry herself to sleep because she finally discovered the wisdom in "don't try to grow up too fast". And I...her incredibly loving but often times too controlling mommy...will be able to do nothing at all to keep these life lessons at bay. She will push through them as I did...with gritted teeth, a refusal to give up and a love of waterproof mascara:)
I hope that as she closes in on the end of her childhood that she appreciates how completely blessed she has been...and always will be. I hope when we drop her off at college we are not dropping her off unarmed to fight off the 101 ways life can shoot you in the face. I PRAY we are putting more ammo in her arsenal so that at any moment she can be ready to fend off the sinister and beguiling curves life can throw you. Simply put: I pray daily that we are teaching her right from wrong and to recognize shades of gray.
I cannot stop my first born from growing into this amazingly fabulous woman I already see before me. But I can prepare her for life by insisting she not take the sunset of her childhood for granted. Take a look around baby girl...drink it in...and know that no matter how many tests you take...how many hearts you break...how many times your own gets broken...how many questions you have that will never have an answer...mommy's lap will always be here. You will never be too old and I will never be too busy to sing you a lullaby.
I love you Kate......(oh and to all Georgia drivers reading this...she makes exceptionally WIDE turns. you have been warned:)
Flashes of tiny truths blind me daily. I am in the decade of my life that she will leave home and begin her own journey. She will get a serious boyfriend. She will experience earth shattering heartbreak. She will chase success only to find that failure has caught up to her first. She will cry herself to sleep because she finally discovered the wisdom in "don't try to grow up too fast". And I...her incredibly loving but often times too controlling mommy...will be able to do nothing at all to keep these life lessons at bay. She will push through them as I did...with gritted teeth, a refusal to give up and a love of waterproof mascara:)
I hope that as she closes in on the end of her childhood that she appreciates how completely blessed she has been...and always will be. I hope when we drop her off at college we are not dropping her off unarmed to fight off the 101 ways life can shoot you in the face. I PRAY we are putting more ammo in her arsenal so that at any moment she can be ready to fend off the sinister and beguiling curves life can throw you. Simply put: I pray daily that we are teaching her right from wrong and to recognize shades of gray.
I cannot stop my first born from growing into this amazingly fabulous woman I already see before me. But I can prepare her for life by insisting she not take the sunset of her childhood for granted. Take a look around baby girl...drink it in...and know that no matter how many tests you take...how many hearts you break...how many times your own gets broken...how many questions you have that will never have an answer...mommy's lap will always be here. You will never be too old and I will never be too busy to sing you a lullaby.
I love you Kate......(oh and to all Georgia drivers reading this...she makes exceptionally WIDE turns. you have been warned:)
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Evil....with sprinkles...
As a completely normal and natural reaction to the insanity that IS my children today...I have decided that at some point in the very near future I may need to get besotted. Proper besotted.
If they would go crazy one at time...I could hang. Two at a time even...I think I could deal. But all three at once? My fantasies of escaping to an untouched island with Jesse and living off the land, drinking from coconut shells and running around half nekkid have now been replaced with leaving to get groceries and simply never returning. Right now it sounds delightful.
Right now I have to keep the broader picture in mind. I quit work in the maddening world of music because it was stealing precious time away from my children. I did this for them. Because I love them. Because they need me.
But tonight...as I prepare to jump in the car YET again to speed my children off to yet ANOTHER "thing"...and its church, so i can't really complain...I am reminded of what my middle daughter said of herself and her siblings years ago. "Mommy, if we were an ice cream flavor it would be Evil. With sprinkles."
They all are. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.
If they would go crazy one at time...I could hang. Two at a time even...I think I could deal. But all three at once? My fantasies of escaping to an untouched island with Jesse and living off the land, drinking from coconut shells and running around half nekkid have now been replaced with leaving to get groceries and simply never returning. Right now it sounds delightful.
Right now I have to keep the broader picture in mind. I quit work in the maddening world of music because it was stealing precious time away from my children. I did this for them. Because I love them. Because they need me.
But tonight...as I prepare to jump in the car YET again to speed my children off to yet ANOTHER "thing"...and its church, so i can't really complain...I am reminded of what my middle daughter said of herself and her siblings years ago. "Mommy, if we were an ice cream flavor it would be Evil. With sprinkles."
They all are. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.
Making an ass of myself in Bible study...good times.
I have this friend. Ok...she's really just more of an acquaintance I met through a friend of a friend. She is a very intelligent, funny, sometimes over-bearing kind of woman. But she's cool...until today...until she went and pissed me off. Now I have to pin her to my blog wall and throw darts at her. But its all in good fun. I am actually really interested in what others think about this issue that she thinks I have...along with about 20 million other woman.
I have a habit...one I do not consider bad in any way, shape or form. I actually think I am being both respectful of my myself and of the people that happen to encounter me during the course of my day. I always...ALWAYS...have my hair styled and make-up on before I step out in public. Now I'm not talking full on run way make-up here. I mean I cover any trouble spots, apply some blush, a little lipstick and my beloved mascara. My hair? Well...its naturally curly, so it does whatever the hell it wants to do. But its big and red and I love it...so I flaunt it.
Over coffee and Bible study, my friend suggested that women who go out of their way to make sure they are always "pretty" have priorities that are misaligned. I'm sorry...what? She insinuated that a woman who spends time doing girly stuff is taking time away from prayer, her husband, her children or community. You MUST be freakin kidding me...right? Please say yes lady. Please tell me you're not serious. I nearly spat my coffee out. I was momentarily speechless! Surely you aren't saying that just because make-up and high heels bring me a joy that apparently Birkenstocks and granola bring to you...that you are somehow better and closer to God than me?
Allow me, if you will, to give you a mental picture of this lady. Think Jamie Lee Curtis + Gloria Steinem + Mother Mary. She's tall, lanky, very outspoken and super duper religious. The woman leads a very spirit filled and knowledgeable Bible study...but she's an odd bird. Not a stitch of make-up...and she only shaves if she has to wear stockings. She has been married to the same man for 30 years and they seem very happy with their four children. But COME ON!!!!! Of course, I interjected respectfully and said something akin to the following. I have to paraphrase myself simply because when I get on a roll...what my husband lovingly calls going-all-julia-sugarbaker-on-someone....I don't always have complete recall as I can sometimes leave my body:)
"I sincerely hope you are not implying that a woman should not embrace her femininity. I very much hope that you aren't saying that a woman should not try to look her absolute best for her husband. Because I gotta tell ya...thats why I do "all this". For Jesse. We are a reflection of one another. If he steps out looking like a some hillbilly freak of nature...that says something. If I step out looking I got dressed at the dump...that says something. And listen up...that "something" isn't good. Because the message isn't for anyone else...it speaks directly to US. He looks nice as often as possible because he loves me and wants me to continue to be attracted to the man I promised my life to. And I make the efforts physically for him because...
#1: I am his wife. His WOMAN. And I want him to be proud of that all of the time.
#2: Emotional and physical affairs are spreading like..well, something that spreads really easily. butter, cream cheese? i digress...I will not allow any other woman an "in" with my man. Every woman that encounters me sees that I take care of myself and that I TRY. I put forth an effort because I want my husband to know...and all other would-be-pursuers of my man...that he is spoken for. Spoken loudly for.
#3: Letting myself go is simply not an option. I want to stay looking and feeling young for as long as I can. Not only for my marriage, but for our children. I want my girls to see that taking pride in how one looks is not a bad thing. We aren't to get bogged down in the minutia of it. But we take care of our temples because doing so shows we are appreciative of what God gave to us.
#4: I want my husband to WANT me. In every single possible way. I don't want his attention diverted. When he sees a beautiful woman, I want him to compare her to me. Not the other way around. I want him to desire me. And if a little make-up and hair gel can do that...coupled with exercise...then that is a mighty small price to pay for knowing my husband looks at me with both love AND desire. As God intended.
#5: I like how I look. I like to look pretty. I like to smell good. I like how my legs look in stilettos. I like how my lips are big and red. How like how my hair is big and red. I like me. And maybe...if you made more of an effort...you would like you a lot more too."
She was neither amused nor in agreement with my Oscar winning diatribe. But whatever. I stand very firm...and tall in my heels...on my point. As wives of husbands who are faced with prolific porn on a daily basis, we have to do something. I am in no way taking responsibility away from the men. If they stray and do something monumentally stupid...they deserve to be flogged. But we cannot forget that our men are visual creatures. They need to like what they see. And if they are looking at the same face, legs and butt for the rest of their lives...as loving wives the least we can do is make sure we are giving them something good to stare at.
I don't think I will be invited back to this Bible study.....
I have a habit...one I do not consider bad in any way, shape or form. I actually think I am being both respectful of my myself and of the people that happen to encounter me during the course of my day. I always...ALWAYS...have my hair styled and make-up on before I step out in public. Now I'm not talking full on run way make-up here. I mean I cover any trouble spots, apply some blush, a little lipstick and my beloved mascara. My hair? Well...its naturally curly, so it does whatever the hell it wants to do. But its big and red and I love it...so I flaunt it.
Over coffee and Bible study, my friend suggested that women who go out of their way to make sure they are always "pretty" have priorities that are misaligned. I'm sorry...what? She insinuated that a woman who spends time doing girly stuff is taking time away from prayer, her husband, her children or community. You MUST be freakin kidding me...right? Please say yes lady. Please tell me you're not serious. I nearly spat my coffee out. I was momentarily speechless! Surely you aren't saying that just because make-up and high heels bring me a joy that apparently Birkenstocks and granola bring to you...that you are somehow better and closer to God than me?
Allow me, if you will, to give you a mental picture of this lady. Think Jamie Lee Curtis + Gloria Steinem + Mother Mary. She's tall, lanky, very outspoken and super duper religious. The woman leads a very spirit filled and knowledgeable Bible study...but she's an odd bird. Not a stitch of make-up...and she only shaves if she has to wear stockings. She has been married to the same man for 30 years and they seem very happy with their four children. But COME ON!!!!! Of course, I interjected respectfully and said something akin to the following. I have to paraphrase myself simply because when I get on a roll...what my husband lovingly calls going-all-julia-sugarbaker-on-someone....I don't always have complete recall as I can sometimes leave my body:)
"I sincerely hope you are not implying that a woman should not embrace her femininity. I very much hope that you aren't saying that a woman should not try to look her absolute best for her husband. Because I gotta tell ya...thats why I do "all this". For Jesse. We are a reflection of one another. If he steps out looking like a some hillbilly freak of nature...that says something. If I step out looking I got dressed at the dump...that says something. And listen up...that "something" isn't good. Because the message isn't for anyone else...it speaks directly to US. He looks nice as often as possible because he loves me and wants me to continue to be attracted to the man I promised my life to. And I make the efforts physically for him because...
#1: I am his wife. His WOMAN. And I want him to be proud of that all of the time.
#2: Emotional and physical affairs are spreading like..well, something that spreads really easily. butter, cream cheese? i digress...I will not allow any other woman an "in" with my man. Every woman that encounters me sees that I take care of myself and that I TRY. I put forth an effort because I want my husband to know...and all other would-be-pursuers of my man...that he is spoken for. Spoken loudly for.
#3: Letting myself go is simply not an option. I want to stay looking and feeling young for as long as I can. Not only for my marriage, but for our children. I want my girls to see that taking pride in how one looks is not a bad thing. We aren't to get bogged down in the minutia of it. But we take care of our temples because doing so shows we are appreciative of what God gave to us.
#4: I want my husband to WANT me. In every single possible way. I don't want his attention diverted. When he sees a beautiful woman, I want him to compare her to me. Not the other way around. I want him to desire me. And if a little make-up and hair gel can do that...coupled with exercise...then that is a mighty small price to pay for knowing my husband looks at me with both love AND desire. As God intended.
#5: I like how I look. I like to look pretty. I like to smell good. I like how my legs look in stilettos. I like how my lips are big and red. How like how my hair is big and red. I like me. And maybe...if you made more of an effort...you would like you a lot more too."
She was neither amused nor in agreement with my Oscar winning diatribe. But whatever. I stand very firm...and tall in my heels...on my point. As wives of husbands who are faced with prolific porn on a daily basis, we have to do something. I am in no way taking responsibility away from the men. If they stray and do something monumentally stupid...they deserve to be flogged. But we cannot forget that our men are visual creatures. They need to like what they see. And if they are looking at the same face, legs and butt for the rest of their lives...as loving wives the least we can do is make sure we are giving them something good to stare at.
I don't think I will be invited back to this Bible study.....
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
A DAY OF DAYS!!!!
I received an email from an old studio pal this morning. It seems he had heard through the proverbial grapevine of my plans to simplify my life with less technology and was concerned for my mental well being. How very sweet of him. He is British so I will quote him for you...." I am worried for you love. Do you find yourself permanently besotted? Are you proper wanked?" This is his way of being highly concerned that I have completely lost my mind. (i had to look up besotted. it means very drunk. i will have to use this word as often as possible now. i heart it:)
I assured him that no...I am absolutely proper fine. I will work as I see fit and as the project strikes my proper fancy. (i also love to throw out proper...as you can see) I then explained that today marked a DAY OF DAYS in the life MOI!!!! Today I am going to see one of the bands that I have always wanted to see. A band that when people first meet me, learn of my personality, my faith, and every other aspect of my life....become quite surprised that I am such a die hard fan of. Ladies and gentlemen of la blog......I give you....TOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I Mean seriously....I may actually have a small stroke from the excitement. Or at the very least...a giggle fit. Any fears my friend may have had regarding my new found life of simplicity were laid to rest the second I outlined my plan of attack for the evening. Which will go a lil' something like this...
Maynard James Keenan...the lead singer of Tool...has no doubt picked up on the psychic vibrations of my impending arrival. He's ready, I'm sure of it. He shall call to me from my seat on high and invite me on stage to sing my favorite song, 46 and 2. I will harmonize with stunning perfection. We will banter in between guitar and drum solos about any number of political and social issues. And of course we will bond over our mutual love of all things Oneology. After which he will realize he cannot live without my company and he will invite me and my family to come live with him and his family and we will all live and make music happily ever after.
My friend didn't bother emailing me. He called me to say he loved me and that I had redeemed myself marvelously. Actually he said "maaaaahhhhveloooosleee" He then cautioned me to remember that I was a married woman and to "keep me dainties to meself"
Always sound advice:) TOOL!!!!!
I assured him that no...I am absolutely proper fine. I will work as I see fit and as the project strikes my proper fancy. (i also love to throw out proper...as you can see) I then explained that today marked a DAY OF DAYS in the life MOI!!!! Today I am going to see one of the bands that I have always wanted to see. A band that when people first meet me, learn of my personality, my faith, and every other aspect of my life....become quite surprised that I am such a die hard fan of. Ladies and gentlemen of la blog......I give you....TOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I Mean seriously....I may actually have a small stroke from the excitement. Or at the very least...a giggle fit. Any fears my friend may have had regarding my new found life of simplicity were laid to rest the second I outlined my plan of attack for the evening. Which will go a lil' something like this...
Maynard James Keenan...the lead singer of Tool...has no doubt picked up on the psychic vibrations of my impending arrival. He's ready, I'm sure of it. He shall call to me from my seat on high and invite me on stage to sing my favorite song, 46 and 2. I will harmonize with stunning perfection. We will banter in between guitar and drum solos about any number of political and social issues. And of course we will bond over our mutual love of all things Oneology. After which he will realize he cannot live without my company and he will invite me and my family to come live with him and his family and we will all live and make music happily ever after.
My friend didn't bother emailing me. He called me to say he loved me and that I had redeemed myself marvelously. Actually he said "maaaaahhhhveloooosleee" He then cautioned me to remember that I was a married woman and to "keep me dainties to meself"
Always sound advice:) TOOL!!!!!
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Today sucks...but its STILL a good day:)
Yeah...I got nothin' today. But if I actually had that prozac milkshake, I would chase it with some Mad Dog and some of those clove cigs we used to smoke in high school. Its been a day and its not even noon.
I have a friend who is ALWAYS up at 5am ready to face the world with her hair in a perfect "do", make up just "so", posting all over every social networking site about how wonderful every aspect of her life is. And I want to kill her slowly on days like this. Today has sucked so far. My kids have sucked today so far. My house is a fricken mess. My dog has yet to puke...but she has rolled in either her own crap or some other dog's crap. So she stinks like you cannot imagine. My husband is home...so for that I am indescribably happy. However...he had to go downtown for a conference where there are scads of gorgeous career women prancing around in their gorgeous career stilettos. Trollops.
I do have a point my friends. And it is this: It is perfectly acceptable to have a day where everything isn't just fine and dandy. As wives, mothers and all around wonderful women...it is OK to admit PUBLICLY that our day isn't running smoothly or that....GASP!!!...we aren't feeling sticky sweet!
All too often I see my friends make excuses and apologize ad naseum for not being on top of their game. It happens. Its called life. Its not always pretty. It doesn't always smell good. Sometimes all three females PMS at the same time. Sometimes the dog rolls in crap.
So I will do three things today...watch Steel Magnolias...(because I anticipate needing a good cry)...drink some wine...(because i always toast M'Lynn's graveside speech)...and wash my dog...(because she truly smells like shit)
Because after all...not so awesome days are still very authentic:)
I have a friend who is ALWAYS up at 5am ready to face the world with her hair in a perfect "do", make up just "so", posting all over every social networking site about how wonderful every aspect of her life is. And I want to kill her slowly on days like this. Today has sucked so far. My kids have sucked today so far. My house is a fricken mess. My dog has yet to puke...but she has rolled in either her own crap or some other dog's crap. So she stinks like you cannot imagine. My husband is home...so for that I am indescribably happy. However...he had to go downtown for a conference where there are scads of gorgeous career women prancing around in their gorgeous career stilettos. Trollops.
I do have a point my friends. And it is this: It is perfectly acceptable to have a day where everything isn't just fine and dandy. As wives, mothers and all around wonderful women...it is OK to admit PUBLICLY that our day isn't running smoothly or that....GASP!!!...we aren't feeling sticky sweet!
All too often I see my friends make excuses and apologize ad naseum for not being on top of their game. It happens. Its called life. Its not always pretty. It doesn't always smell good. Sometimes all three females PMS at the same time. Sometimes the dog rolls in crap.
So I will do three things today...watch Steel Magnolias...(because I anticipate needing a good cry)...drink some wine...(because i always toast M'Lynn's graveside speech)...and wash my dog...(because she truly smells like shit)
Because after all...not so awesome days are still very authentic:)
Friday, February 3, 2012
Mom of the year? Notsomuch.
As I ponder how I am trying to simplify my life...and as a result, hopefully do the same within the lives of my family...I realize I actually began this journey last year! While I still work occasionally in the studio and take the odd vocal coaching job, I left the really time sucking portion of my music career in the dust months ago. Thus preparing myself...and the rest of my brood...for my simplicity atom bomb. I gave up my artist management firm. The music business is not nearly as glamorous as one would think. Everyone remarks how awesome and amazing and fabulous it must be! And at times...yes. Yes it was. But the amount of time I spent away from home, dealing with artists, booking gigs, speaking to venues or running PR marathons....caused my family to seriously consider looking on Craigslist for a new wife and mom. I was A.B.S.E.N.T. Even when I was home...I really wasn't. So, I let it go. And I immediately rejoiced in my decision. As did my husband and our kiddos. They had ME back! In light of that...you would think I would have a divine and glowing perspective of how to be a better parent. Yeah...not really. I still fubar things up so badly that if I could pay someone to make me the Neuralizer from Men in Black and use it on my family...I SO would.
Someone should have taken my mommy card from me this morning and beat me with it. My son...Jax...is 9. He is quite possibly the most incredibly bodacious and audacious boy ever born. Ever. He is beyond amazing....and more like me than I care to admit. Jax has a boppy. Now boppy is a blanket that I had growing up. Its not quite as old as dirt...but it could qualify as a historical artifact. He LOVES this blanket. Actually, Jax loves 3 things in life more than all others...Daddy, Boppy and Georgia (our chocolate lab). Now I would never in a million years use dad or the dog as collateral in our do-as-i-say wars. But boppy...that's a whole other thing.
This morning as we were rushing to get ready for school, I asked him to do two things. One: brush teeth. Two: get dressed. I made this request as I was also trying to get myself ready to walk out the door and speed three kids to three different schools on opposite sides of the county. Rushed? Stressed? Naaaaahhh.
As his sisters and I were ready to book it, what was my dear sweet blessing of a son doing? Watching Karate Kid with dirty breakfast teeth in chocolate milk stained pj's. I. Lost. My. Mind. I grabbed boppy and essentially yelled how I would be holding him (i say "him" because boppy is a living breathing thing in our home) hostage until he did precisely as he had been asked. When he argued, I took boppy away and said how he would be lucky if boppy was still around when he got home from school. He was equal parts devastated and ready to smother me with his butt. But...he did as he was told. He didn't speak to me for the entire car ride to school. But he did as he was told.
I had plans to have my car detailed, take a bubble bath and attempt to ascend Mt. Laundry today. Alas...instead I shall be baking his favorite cookies, washing boppy by hand and preparing an appropriate apology sure to melt the icey heart of my handsome little man.
Crazy-over-reactive-mom: 1. Simplicity: 0.
As I ponder how I am trying to simplify my life...and as a result, hopefully do the same within the lives of my family...I realize I actually began this journey last year! While I still work occasionally in the studio and take the odd vocal coaching job, I left the really time sucking portion of my music career in the dust months ago. Thus preparing myself...and the rest of my brood...for my simplicity atom bomb. I gave up my artist management firm. The music business is not nearly as glamorous as one would think. Everyone remarks how awesome and amazing and fabulous it must be! And at times...yes. Yes it was. But the amount of time I spent away from home, dealing with artists, booking gigs, speaking to venues or running PR marathons....caused my family to seriously consider looking on Craigslist for a new wife and mom. I was A.B.S.E.N.T. Even when I was home...I really wasn't. So, I let it go. And I immediately rejoiced in my decision. As did my husband and our kiddos. They had ME back! In light of that...you would think I would have a divine and glowing perspective of how to be a better parent. Yeah...not really. I still fubar things up so badly that if I could pay someone to make me the Neuralizer from Men in Black and use it on my family...I SO would.
Someone should have taken my mommy card from me this morning and beat me with it. My son...Jax...is 9. He is quite possibly the most incredibly bodacious and audacious boy ever born. Ever. He is beyond amazing....and more like me than I care to admit. Jax has a boppy. Now boppy is a blanket that I had growing up. Its not quite as old as dirt...but it could qualify as a historical artifact. He LOVES this blanket. Actually, Jax loves 3 things in life more than all others...Daddy, Boppy and Georgia (our chocolate lab). Now I would never in a million years use dad or the dog as collateral in our do-as-i-say wars. But boppy...that's a whole other thing.
This morning as we were rushing to get ready for school, I asked him to do two things. One: brush teeth. Two: get dressed. I made this request as I was also trying to get myself ready to walk out the door and speed three kids to three different schools on opposite sides of the county. Rushed? Stressed? Naaaaahhh.
As his sisters and I were ready to book it, what was my dear sweet blessing of a son doing? Watching Karate Kid with dirty breakfast teeth in chocolate milk stained pj's. I. Lost. My. Mind. I grabbed boppy and essentially yelled how I would be holding him (i say "him" because boppy is a living breathing thing in our home) hostage until he did precisely as he had been asked. When he argued, I took boppy away and said how he would be lucky if boppy was still around when he got home from school. He was equal parts devastated and ready to smother me with his butt. But...he did as he was told. He didn't speak to me for the entire car ride to school. But he did as he was told.
I had plans to have my car detailed, take a bubble bath and attempt to ascend Mt. Laundry today. Alas...instead I shall be baking his favorite cookies, washing boppy by hand and preparing an appropriate apology sure to melt the icey heart of my handsome little man.
Crazy-over-reactive-mom: 1. Simplicity: 0.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Simplifying My Life. and other small miracles......
So this week marks the beginning of me TRYING to take all of my pictures, notes and other things of importance off of FB and onto my computer. It is just shy of 10am and I am already on my 4th cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee...I bought the big obnoxious box of it this morning. As I look at the 100 tons of virtual stuff I have to do...SOMETHING...with...I am reminded of why I am doing this. My soul...the very core of me...is screaming for simplicity. Even saying that word makes me feel more centered....SIMPLICITY...sounds wonderful huh? I'm diggin' this y'all.
A friend of mine recently wrote about my quest for a more simple life in the AJC. Theresa Walsh Giarrusso....check her Momania blog out http://blogs.ajc.com/momania/2012/01/31/will-you-leave-facebook-because-of-the-new-timeline/...good stuff. Even she is a little stumped, I think, as to my yearning for this kind of change. And while I don't want to jump in my Delorean and scoot back to 1988...I do crave a time when everything wasn't so...available.
We don't have to work for anything anymore.Where's the adventure in life? Shopping used to be fun! You knew what you wanted, but it was a treasure hunt of sorts to find it. Now we just go to a website and order it. Phone calls used to be something we looked forward to. Remember stretching the phone cord until it nearly snaps, pulling it into the bathroom, talking in hushed tones, desperate to say what you needed to say because of the very real fear of mom or dad grabbing the other line and announcing time was up? Getting up to PHYSICALLY change the channel or volume....making mixed tapes! Ok...so maybe I do want the 80's back. But is that such a horrible thing? I want that authenticity back.....the kind of authentic life that just kind of happened naturally. I understand that times change and technology evolves and people either make the leap or get left behind. I get it. I really do. But while the world is busy becoming more automated and autonomous...what are WE doing? We are losing our sense of wonder. Our sense of amazement at everyday life is becoming diluted and almost an after thought....we are only reminded to reflect on the miracle of a moment because our iphones and ipads hold the memory. But our MEMORY should hold that memory. Our hearts should be engaged and present.
Perhaps that is the crux of my pickle. I have put myself on trial and found myself guilty of the most heinous crime.....forgetting to live in the moment. I am not one of those girls who dreads getting older. I have an amazing husband and family with whom to turn gray and decrepit. My true fear in this life...is NOT LIVING IT. I don't want my children to forge anymore memories like "Hey mom, remember that time I started dancing to Boyz II Men and you recorded the whole thing and put it on Faceboook?" Instead I want to hear..."Hey mom, remember that time I started dancing to Boyz II Men and you danced with me?" That, my friends, is the entire point.
So as I strive to make my life less in a heart felt attempt to make it more...and still keep my inner voice relevant a la this blog...I invite you to try to do the same. Small...itsy bitsy baby steps...that's the way to start. What can you eliminate from your everyday life that is very slowly sucking the preciousness out of it? For me, its "Disliking" FB. The only people that need to know what I am doing every single second...and what part of town I am doing it in...are the people in my own home. Because at the end of the day...only five people truly matter...Jesse, Kate, Emmy Jean, Jax....and MOI:)
So this week marks the beginning of me TRYING to take all of my pictures, notes and other things of importance off of FB and onto my computer. It is just shy of 10am and I am already on my 4th cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee...I bought the big obnoxious box of it this morning. As I look at the 100 tons of virtual stuff I have to do...SOMETHING...with...I am reminded of why I am doing this. My soul...the very core of me...is screaming for simplicity. Even saying that word makes me feel more centered....SIMPLICITY...sounds wonderful huh? I'm diggin' this y'all.
A friend of mine recently wrote about my quest for a more simple life in the AJC. Theresa Walsh Giarrusso....check her Momania blog out http://blogs.ajc.com/momania/2012/01/31/will-you-leave-facebook-because-of-the-new-timeline/...good stuff. Even she is a little stumped, I think, as to my yearning for this kind of change. And while I don't want to jump in my Delorean and scoot back to 1988...I do crave a time when everything wasn't so...available.
We don't have to work for anything anymore.Where's the adventure in life? Shopping used to be fun! You knew what you wanted, but it was a treasure hunt of sorts to find it. Now we just go to a website and order it. Phone calls used to be something we looked forward to. Remember stretching the phone cord until it nearly snaps, pulling it into the bathroom, talking in hushed tones, desperate to say what you needed to say because of the very real fear of mom or dad grabbing the other line and announcing time was up? Getting up to PHYSICALLY change the channel or volume....making mixed tapes! Ok...so maybe I do want the 80's back. But is that such a horrible thing? I want that authenticity back.....the kind of authentic life that just kind of happened naturally. I understand that times change and technology evolves and people either make the leap or get left behind. I get it. I really do. But while the world is busy becoming more automated and autonomous...what are WE doing? We are losing our sense of wonder. Our sense of amazement at everyday life is becoming diluted and almost an after thought....we are only reminded to reflect on the miracle of a moment because our iphones and ipads hold the memory. But our MEMORY should hold that memory. Our hearts should be engaged and present.
Perhaps that is the crux of my pickle. I have put myself on trial and found myself guilty of the most heinous crime.....forgetting to live in the moment. I am not one of those girls who dreads getting older. I have an amazing husband and family with whom to turn gray and decrepit. My true fear in this life...is NOT LIVING IT. I don't want my children to forge anymore memories like "Hey mom, remember that time I started dancing to Boyz II Men and you recorded the whole thing and put it on Faceboook?" Instead I want to hear..."Hey mom, remember that time I started dancing to Boyz II Men and you danced with me?" That, my friends, is the entire point.
So as I strive to make my life less in a heart felt attempt to make it more...and still keep my inner voice relevant a la this blog...I invite you to try to do the same. Small...itsy bitsy baby steps...that's the way to start. What can you eliminate from your everyday life that is very slowly sucking the preciousness out of it? For me, its "Disliking" FB. The only people that need to know what I am doing every single second...and what part of town I am doing it in...are the people in my own home. Because at the end of the day...only five people truly matter...Jesse, Kate, Emmy Jean, Jax....and MOI:)
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Strong4Life ads too much? I don't think so.
Unless you live under a very large rock, you have no doubt heard of or have seen the ads. They are on billboards everywhere here in Georgia. My first reaction was heart break. However...it wasn't becasue an overweight child's face was plastered 100 feet up in the air large enough to be seen from space. It was because the child was fat to begin with and someone finally paid attention to the urgency of this issue.
You see overweight kids all the time. The number is atonishing at the schools of my three children. I have heard some try to categorize the "fatness factor" into age groups based on how much physical activity these groups may be getting. Now, my children represent every school age. I have one in elementary, one in middle and one in high school. And I gotta tell ya...seeing this in real life is incredibly sad. I would have thought that as a child grows and matures, the baby fat would just kind of melt off. But no. Some of the fattest and unhealthy lot of them are in high school! Families are just not getting the message. You don't have to be an athlete to be healthy. You just have to do SOMETHING...that something can start with not buying and eating crap. And I'm sorry folks....but not every person on the face of the planet that is obese has a gland issue. Its mathematically impossible. YOU. ARE. EATING. TOO. MUCH. You are allowing your children to eat too much. Its tatamount to child abuse in my opinion. Granted...I don't think a parent should have social services step in and work their special brand of putrified magic. We all know how limp and useless they can be. But something MUST be done. That is why I am 100% in support of this campaign.
What other option should we...as a concerned community...do about this epidemic of dollar menus and super sized sodas? How else can we combat the Twinkies, sugary cerals, Yoo-Hoo's and Moon Pies? Admittedly....I think in this generation of CGI and super cool effects...they could have "created" obese children. I am not a proponent of embarrassing our babies into making batter food choices. But I am absolutely a HUGE proponent of embarrassing the crap out their parents! How dare you bring a child into this world and allow their health to suffer so willingly. And if its not willingly....then you are even more of an asshat; because that means you are an absent parent who chooses to be blind to the plight of your child. And I have a problem with you.
So poo-poo these ads and billboards all you wish. Perhaps the dialogue that has started can prevent just one of our nation's Little Debbies from actually turning into one.
http://strong4life.com/
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
I am leaving Facebook....alert the media. And perhaps the Queen.
Six words. We say six words all the time. "I can't believe I ate that."..."Stop it or I'll kill you."...Who's making dinner tonight, not me!"..."Feed the damn dog right now!" But the six words I uttered last week have caused a small brush fire.
"I HAVE DECIDED TO LEAVE FACEBOOK."
Who knew those six little, seemingly insignificant words, would cause such a ruckus? Not this red head, thats for sure. Guess how many private messages I recieved from concerned FB citizens? 34. 34 people inquired as to whether my marriage was falling apart. 34 people asked if we were moving...is Jesse (my impossibly sexy husband) demanding I delete my account...if I was making a global statement regarding the death spiral of the American dream or perhaps playing a big fat joke on everyone. Really? I'm leaving FB because it started to get on my ever-lovin nerves...not because I'm launching some clandestine investigation into the true whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa's body or because I finally discovered where in the world Carmen Sandiego REALLY is. Simply put, I no longer care for FB and how it keeps changing my dern profile.
The thing is, after seeing grown ups discuss partying on the weekend and the eleventy billion "likes" on a post-weekend-headache thread...I'm done. I'm done deleting inappropriate posts from friends and family because one of my daughters might see them. I do good to catch the dog before she throw up/burps water on my kitchen floor. Catching AND deleting a comment about something we did 20 years ago in college...I no longer have the patience for. I'm defrosting chicken. I'm walking by Mt. Laundry and ignoring it. I'm griping about acne. (And let me just say...I have paid my dues. An almost 38 year old should NOT have to deal with pimples.) I'm watching Cars for 427th time just because my son asked me to. I'm cussing the neighborhood kids out because...well...because they're being kids. I'm fixing my hair and putting on lip stick at 7pm so when my husband walks through the door he sees sexy me. And not the me thats been in a coffee stained sweat shirt all day. I AM A BUSY WOMAN! Keeping up with the comings and goings on with FB and chasing down comments is no longer on my life's radar.
So to sum up...no. No I am not going into the witness protection program. No. A marriage counselor was not consulted. No. I am not pregnant and trying to hide it. I still have tons to say about my crazy life. A life that consists of a globe trotting husband nicknamed The Spy because everyone thinks he secretly works for the CIA...three kids 15, 13 and 9...a dog that pukes if she drinks too much (insert funny ha ha here)...a career that involves the music industry, vocal coaching and writing books that get turned down by publishers that smell like cabbage...a life that could easily be a tv show. Nothing ordinary ever happens in our family.
So FB can suck it. I shall drink my Prozac milkshake and be safe in the knowledge that the only inappropriate comments I'll be deleting..are my own.
"I HAVE DECIDED TO LEAVE FACEBOOK."
Who knew those six little, seemingly insignificant words, would cause such a ruckus? Not this red head, thats for sure. Guess how many private messages I recieved from concerned FB citizens? 34. 34 people inquired as to whether my marriage was falling apart. 34 people asked if we were moving...is Jesse (my impossibly sexy husband) demanding I delete my account...if I was making a global statement regarding the death spiral of the American dream or perhaps playing a big fat joke on everyone. Really? I'm leaving FB because it started to get on my ever-lovin nerves...not because I'm launching some clandestine investigation into the true whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa's body or because I finally discovered where in the world Carmen Sandiego REALLY is. Simply put, I no longer care for FB and how it keeps changing my dern profile.
The thing is, after seeing grown ups discuss partying on the weekend and the eleventy billion "likes" on a post-weekend-headache thread...I'm done. I'm done deleting inappropriate posts from friends and family because one of my daughters might see them. I do good to catch the dog before she throw up/burps water on my kitchen floor. Catching AND deleting a comment about something we did 20 years ago in college...I no longer have the patience for. I'm defrosting chicken. I'm walking by Mt. Laundry and ignoring it. I'm griping about acne. (And let me just say...I have paid my dues. An almost 38 year old should NOT have to deal with pimples.) I'm watching Cars for 427th time just because my son asked me to. I'm cussing the neighborhood kids out because...well...because they're being kids. I'm fixing my hair and putting on lip stick at 7pm so when my husband walks through the door he sees sexy me. And not the me thats been in a coffee stained sweat shirt all day. I AM A BUSY WOMAN! Keeping up with the comings and goings on with FB and chasing down comments is no longer on my life's radar.
So to sum up...no. No I am not going into the witness protection program. No. A marriage counselor was not consulted. No. I am not pregnant and trying to hide it. I still have tons to say about my crazy life. A life that consists of a globe trotting husband nicknamed The Spy because everyone thinks he secretly works for the CIA...three kids 15, 13 and 9...a dog that pukes if she drinks too much (insert funny ha ha here)...a career that involves the music industry, vocal coaching and writing books that get turned down by publishers that smell like cabbage...a life that could easily be a tv show. Nothing ordinary ever happens in our family.
So FB can suck it. I shall drink my Prozac milkshake and be safe in the knowledge that the only inappropriate comments I'll be deleting..are my own.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)