Swimming Lessons and Stuff

Last week and the week before that, Andrew took swimming lessons. This is his fourth year taking lessons (the first year was mommy and me), and this year he really "got" it. I am proud to say that he can now officially swim. It's not exactly graceful and there's a lot of flailing and splashing, but at least he's swimming. (And before anyone says anything, I fully realize that this doesn't mean that he can swim alone. I have no intentions of tossing him in the pool and walking away.)

Andrew has taken swimming lessons every year from a friend of my family's. She always does an awesome job, and we're so thankful for her.

Getting ready for class.

Blowing bubbles (you know in case you can't figure out the obvious).

Ready to go under.

Practicing his back float (once again . . . obvious).

Practicing kicks.

Flutter kick, mermaid kick, frog kick . . . 

Jumping in and swimming to the side.

Swimming alone.

So swimming lessons are over, and now we just have to practice.

Patrick is out of town this week, which Andrew hates. So far he's been gone two nights, and Andrew has ended up in bed with me both nights. I'm hoping to get the bed to myself tonight.

Andrew's not the only one that hates it. Apparently, it's stressing Daisy out too. We ended up at the vet's office this morning because she is having some pretty serious stomach upset, and the conclusion (after a lot of expensive tests) is that she's very stressed . . . anyone know a good doggy psychiatrist? Because she really is a head case.

Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

Remember that nursery rhyme? Well my name's not Mary, and I don't have pretty maids in my garden, but I can be contrary from time to time.

This is our little garden. I knew (still know) nothing about gardening when I started, and if I've learned nothing else, I've learned that when people tell you to give squash plants plenty of space you should give them plenty of space. Also, there are tons of blooms under those leaves, and so we're about to have a mother load of squash. Can you freeze fresh squash? You can't see it, but there are jalapenos, bell peppers, and tomatoes on the other plants. As long as we can keep them from being eaten by the alien mutant squash from outer space . . . 

In addition to gardening, I also have a new breakfast obsession (nice segue huh?) . . . 

You start with these . . . the most amazing English Muffins ever (they are great toasted with peanut butter, but that's an old breakfast obsession not a new one) (this is not a paid advertisement . . . this is true love)

Then you do this . . . I cook one egg over-easy in a little bit of butter flavored Pam (yes, I know, chemicals in a can) . . . clearly you can cook your egg however you please . . . with half a pound of butter . . . scrambled . . . fried . . . whatever floats your boat (excuse the sideways picture . . . too lazy to fix it)

Next I add tomatoes and a lot of little salt and pepper (and a paper plate because, again, I'm too lazy to wash a bunch of breakfast dishes)

And voila . . . you have my new breakfast obsession (I'm losing big points for presentation here)

So you would think I invented the breakfast sandwich as excited as I am about this. And I mean you could doctor it however you want . . . cheese . . . bacon . . . ham . . . oh McDonald's invented the breakfast sandwich? Or you could just go to the McDonald's drive thru and let them make one for you. Like I said . . . whatever floats your boat.

Playing Catch Up

It's hard to believe that's it's been over a year since we started the whole adoption process. It's one of those things that seems like forever ago but also seems like it just happened yesterday. Still we're one year further along in the very long wait. Since it's been a year plus we have to update our homestudy and our I800-A (which means nothing to most people but is extremely important). From what I can tell the homestudy update is pretty basic and simple. I've already asked our doctor for updated medical letters, and I just have to call in the payment for the homestudy update. Nothing about this whole process is cheap. There's no two ways about it.

The good thing is we paid off my car. Yay! It's only a few years old, and now it's paid off so that's a little extra cash in our pockets, and we don't have to turn around and buy a new car. It seems like everytime we pay a car off, we need another one. Hopefully, we won't be in that boat for a couple more years.

I also booked part of our trip to the Smoky Mountains this summer. I'm so excited about going. But I can't give you any details. Patrick thinks one of you people will somehow figure out the exact location of our house and rob us blind (ya know because we're incredibly wealthy . . . that's a joke) while we're gone so I can't give you details. And did you know that you can, in all actuality, figure out the exact location of almost anyone's house? Google provides a wealth of information.

Andrew is finally feeling better. Another yay is in order. He's still coughing like crazy but at least he's not puking his guts out anymore. Sorry about that . . . I'm sure you didn't want to hear that.

Speaking of my child . . . he suddenly seems to think it's hilarious to use words such as "stupid" and "idiot". Not sure why . . . Mama doesn't think it's funny nor does Daddy. Let's just say he's been in quite a bit of trouble the past couple days.

Let's see . . . I'm pretty sure I'm caught up. I can't think of anything else that is important because you know this post is chock full of important information. I'm pretty sure you couldn't live without knowing my child's current upchucking status. And with that I'll say adios.

An Unode

What's the opposite of an ode? Because that's what this post is . . . I'll call it An Unode to Standardized Testing.

This morning, all over the state of Texas, students took the first part of the new STAAR test. Anxiety was high . . . nerves were shot . . . massive amounts of coffee were consumed . . . and I'm just talking about the teachers here. I'm pretty sure that the only thing as bad as taking "the test" is administering it.

Methinks standardized tests were invented as a torture device for teachers.

The list of things you can't do is a mile and a half long:

• You can't help . . . "I can't answer that question. Just do your best."
• You can't answer questions (see above)
• You can't read or even glance at their work
• You can't grade papers
• You can't do lesson plans
• You can't turn on your phone, or computers, or any other electronic devices
• You can't read the test either out loud or in your head . . . it's top secret . . . like CIA top secret
• You can't sit down
• You can't smile
• You can't frown
• You can't juggle knives or babies
• You can't sing Broadway show tunes or read trashy novels or The National Enquirer
• You can't eat swords
• You can't breathe fire  . . . just checking to see who's still reading

The list of things you must do isn't quite as long:

• You must time the test
• You must walk around at a pace fast enough to avoid reading the test but slow enough to see if the child is doing the correct part of the test . . . virtually impossible
• You must keep all test items secure at all times
• You must keep your face and tone expressionless at all times throughout the testing
• You must sign away your life and swear under penalty of law that you will and will not do the appropriate things at the appropriate times
• You must stay awake (can someone come help me get these toothpicks out of my eyes?)

No big deal really. I mean aren't standardized tests what life is all about? Don't they lead to great successes in life?

Day one down . . .

Crazy, Busy Weekend

I mean crazy, busy . . .

Saturday was opening day for baseball. We started the morning with a parade . . . of which I have no pictures . . . epic fail. But I was in the back of a truck with six four, five, and six year olds, hoping and praying no one fell or jumped out . . . I was distracted . . . that's my excuse.

Seriously, have you ever seen anything cuter? I mean, I may be biased . . . just a little.

After the parade, we headed to Mr. Taco to carb load for the game . . . everyone needs pancakes and chocolate milk before the big game.

Those eyes kill me . . . absolutely, kill me . . .

The game was a blast. The kids did so good. They don't keep score in T-ball, but they had fun. Everyone hit the ball, everyone ran the right way, and the crying was kept to a minimum. Couldn't ask for more.

Did I mention that I left my camera in my car? Since, I had to hike 26.2 miles from where I parked to the fields, I wasn't going back . . . epic fail number two. My sister took pictures, so I'll post them when I get them.

Saturday night, I conned Patrick into going with a friend and me to see The Hunger Games. I read and loved the books. The movie was really good, but I've never seen a movie that lived up to the book . . . never. But, if you're a fan of the books, then you definitely need to see the movie.

Yesterday, was church and a birthday party followed by grocery shopping and getting ready for another week. Like I said, it was a crazy busy weekend, but it was a good weekend . . . it was a fun weekend . . . and there's more where that came from.

On Eating Healthy and All that Jazz

I wrote this during my conference. I didn't have time to proofread. Sorry for any mistakes.

I've always been a healthy eater. I was raised eating almost any and all vegetables and fruits, meats, and seafood. The problem is I'm not in the least bit a picky eater. Meaning most days I get my complete serving of vegetables/fruits, but I also more than my complete serving of ice cream, salty snacks, butter, you name it. I'm what you call an indiscriminate eater. I'll eat anything.

So, I started working out around a month ago, and then about three weeks ago, I decided I needed to change the way I we eat. To be completely honest, we haven't given up all ice cream, eating out, and yummy food, but my goal is for us to eat healthy at most meals on most days. I've been drinking lots of water (I've never been a big soda drinker, but I didn't drink enough water either). When I use oil, I only use olive oil and then a minimal amount. We've been eating a lot of grilled vegetables, fresh fruit, beans, and grilled fish and chicken. I've also made an effort to switch all of our grains to whole grains. On most nights, instead of dessert I have fruit. Instead of flavor blasted Goldfish, I have a small piece of cheese and an apple.

So, on Monday night instead of using white flour to make our pizza crust, I used whole wheat flour, and while Patrick had pepperoni on his part (he's holding out on this whole healthy eating thing), the rest was veggie all the way (Andrew's was only black olives and cheese . . . he has a passion for black olives). And you know? It was good. Really good. So yes, I'm tooting my own horn . . . just a little bit.

The point is, between eating better and exercising, I feel so much better physically. It's not about losing weight or being skinnier. It's about having a healthier family overall . . . Don't worry though, I'm not giving up Mexican food, and I'm not swearing off desserts . . . I just save that stuff for the weekends ;).

Back to the Daily Grind

Spring Break is pretty much over. Can you hear me crying all the way from your corner of the world?

These last nine days were so nice. It started off cold and rainy, but by Monday it was warm (not hot) and sunny. We spent a lot of time outside enjoying the spring weather.

It's a close race between spring and fall for my favorite time of year. Each has its merits, but spring has something that fall can't compete with . . . bluebonnets. They are just starting to pop up, and with our nice rainy winter, we're gonna have a gorgeous wildfire season.

They may be a weed to some, but to us Texans there just isn't much that's more beautiful than a field full of bluebonnets. And yes we will traipse right into that (possibly) snake infected patch and plop our babies down to get the perfect bluebonnet pictures. Rattlesnakes schmattlesnakes. We've gotta have our bluebonnet pictures. Live here a while . . . you'll be doing it too.

So, tomorrow morning it's back to the real world. Back to early mornings and busy days. Back to math and literature and dumb old standardized tests. But it's only 10 weeks until summer. Of course, by then it'll probably be 110 degrees which isn't quite so nice. I'm praying for a rainy spring and a summer that's a tad bit cooler than last. I'm sure I'm not alone in that.

Enjoy your Monday everyone.



T-Ball Practice . . . Team of the Century

Ah, t-ball . . . It's an experience. That much is for certain. Most of the kids are really trying and doing pretty well . . . and then there's the four year olds. Their attention span is approximately 2.5 milliseconds which leads to lots of, "pay attention" and "run, run, run . . . why are you running that way?". Definitely never a dull moment.

There is no "I" in team. Too bad no one told Mr. I Need An Attitude Adjustment.

Yep, we practice throwing with our helmet on. Not because we need the helmet, but mostly because we refused to remove it.

I'm about to have a colossal melt down because the sun is in my eyes.

This will fix the problem. Where am I?

It's dark in here . . . I can't see a thing.

There is, however, smiling in baseball.

All I have to do is make contact with the ball . . . not someone else's head. It's harder than it looks.

I need my binoculars to see from way out here on second base . . . run? Who said anything about running? I'm busy.

And that folks is just a little bit of the t-ball experience . . . like I said never a dull moment.

The Great Wolf Lodge

So last weekend we took a trip to The Great Wolf Lodge a.k.a. a parent's worst nightmare. When we got there (at 10:30 at night . . . see last post for that ridiculous drama) the place was crawling with kids in pajamas running around with wands. It's like Vegas for kids. And like I said, it's a parent's worst nightmare. Generally speaking, even with Andrew we try to avoid these types of hotels, but The Great Wolf has an indoor water park so we thought we'd give it a shot.

The water park was good. The water was cold, but the air temp was warm so no real complaints there. And it actually ended up being a perfect weekend to visit since most of Texas was dealing with cold rainy weather. Andrew had a great time. I'm not sure that we'll ever go back, but it was fun and nice to get away for a couple nights.

Wow who's that hot mama? Oh that's me sans make-up. ;)

Story time

The trees talked. Andrew is still convinced they are real.

And that's all the pictures I took. All in a two hour period. I'm one of those moms that's right on top of things.

Now for your coming attractions:

T-ball pictures coming soon to a blog near you. (Hope you can sleep tonight . . . I know the anticipation is killing you.)

Busy, Busy

So it's been a while since I lasted posted. We're busy. It's spring. Life happens.

On Friday, Spring Break started. Yay! We left Friday after school and headed to The Great Wolf Lodge in Grapevine (near Fort Worth). Anyone, who's ever been unlucky enough to travel on I-35 between Austin and the DFW area knows how awful it can be. Ummm, it wasn't awful . . . it was a parking lot. Which may or may not have caused some frustration. Then we got into Fort Worth, over an hour later than we should've, and the road we needed to go down was closed. It wasn't just closed. It was closed like Twilight Zone closed. We got off because we had to, but there was no stinkin' way to turn around, and it was dark, and traffic was bumper to bumper, and did I mention I was navigating using my phone which only had eight percent battery left on it because I may or may not have spent most of the drive playing on the internet because I hadn't forseen this little problem (big run-on). It took us over an hour to drive five miles. I suggested we pull over and ask someone how to go around the construction mess of the century. Patrick's response was, "That just seems like the thing to do doesn't it?" "Yes, yes it does." Clearly I think like a human being and not like a man. Anyway, we got there without anyone getting killed. Although, had we been in the car five more minutes . . .

I'll post details and pictures on the trip soon.

Yesterday, I went and bought these babies.

I needed the Red Converse because Andrew's t-ball team is the Red Sox, and I needed cute shoes to match my shirt . . . and that was just an excuse to buy Red Converse.

I also got new running shoes. I've actually kept up the running. I was running quite a bit last summer, and I don't know why I ever stopped. I like running. I don't always want to do it, but I like the way it makes me feel. Yesterday, I managed to run two miles and walk half a mile (not bad for three weeks back at it). The reason for my new shoes is my knees. I have horrible ankles which overpronate (they roll in) which causes knee problems if my shoes are either worn out or don't have enough support (I know you really care). This morning I could only run a mile. I walked the rest of the way. My knees were begging me to stop. I felt like I was 150. Any suggestions or exercises to help this problem would be welcome.

The other reason I'm sore probably has something to do with the 50 lb bags of garden soil I lugged around yesterday. Andrew and I planted the world's smallest garden, and it only took us three hours. I'll show pictures of that later too.

Well, I better run (or walk). My cousin is in town (another yay!), and we're having dinner at my parents' tonight. I'm making an extremely unhealthy delicious dessert so I better get on it.

Growing Up and Going Forward

Being a mom is hard. I mean it's rewarding there's no doubt about it, but y'all it's still hard. One of the hardest parts about it is watching your baby grow up. No one warned me about this phenomenon . . . this whole growing up thing. Oh wait, people actually did warn me. That's what they meant when they said things like, "Time flies" and "They grow up too fast." Who knew?

The truth is I've been pretty okay with Andrew getting older. I wasn't a huge fan of the newborn stage. They eat, they sleep, they poop, and you don't eat, you don't sleep, and I'll stop there. But the other day, I picked my baby up, and he was huge. Huge being a relative term. I'm a really small person, and by small I mean most twelve ten year olds are bigger than I am. So when I say Andrew is huge, it shouldn't be taken too literally. Anyway, I couldn't help but think about when I brought him home from the hospital, and his entire little body would fit on my chest. He was only 17 inches long, and he weighed less than a bag of flour. I couldn't help but think about how he would lay on my chest and sleep while I would read books or watch t.v.

When Andrew was so little, I couldn't imagine that one day he would walk, and talk, and play sports, and make friends, and be too big to sleep on my chest. It's a huge privilege to watch our kids grow and change. It is also one of the most terrifying and humbling yet awesome experiences on this Earth.

Through all of this, God is showing me that growth is part of life. Our children are supposed to grow up, and one day become independent. But growth shouldn't stop with independence from our Earthly parents. As long as we are living and breathing on this Earth, we should continue to grow. We should continue to seek to allow God to change and mature us in a new way with each day that passes. As long as we are growing, we are living. We were not created to live stagnant lives that never change. God created us to dream and live our lives growing and changing and becoming more today than we were yesterday and more tomorrow than we are today.

Quick Catch Up

Yowzers . . . it's like someone flipped the busy switch around these parts. I've been going from sun-up to sun down  . . . literally.

Andrew started t-ball practice yesterday. It was entertaining. He's by far the smallest one on his team. He looks tiny compared to all the other kids. Including the other four years olds. Somehow we my husband ended up being the head coach of Andrew's team. Ummm . . . yeah, we know absolutely nothing about baseball . . . or football or soccer or any other organized sport for that matter. So we were obviously the first and best choice to help shape and mold these fine young athletes. At least it's just t-ball. Maybe they won't be too damaged  . . .

Had I been "on my game" (no pun intended), I would've taken pictures of Andrew's first t-ball practice, but I wasn't. I promise actual photographs in the near future. I'll just use the lame excuse that I was too busy to grab my camera.

Thankfully, Spring Break starts on Friday. I'm so glad that March has begun, and spring will soon be in full swing. I love the warmer weather and longer days.

Surfacing for Air

Hey y'all. It's been a few days. I think this is one of the longest stretches I've gone without blogging. It's just been one of those insane weeks when you don't have a moment to stop and breathe, and I feel like this is the first moment I've had to sit down and write.

Thankfully, with the reintroduction of Zyrtec, we got Andrew's hives to go away and stay away (hopefully). He and Patrick both ended last week and started this week with colds. Now they're both on the mend, and I feel like my face may explode at any moment. Plus, I can't breathe through my nose which has to be some form of medieval torture. Glorious sinus pressure. I took two . . . yep two . . . that's a hefty dose for me . . . Benadryl last night to knock myself out. I slept okay, but was up at 2:30 looking for some ibuprofen to fix my pounding head.

I know the current state of my family's health is fascinating y'all, but I have switch gears here.

Our adoption agency received two referrals this past week for two little boys. Once again, we're super excited for those families, and we're "movin' on up" the line. Everytime our agency receives another referral the theme song from "The Jeffersons" plays in my head. I never claimed to be normal. Anyway, it's still a long wait, but everyday is a day closer. Sometimes, as we go about our everyday life day after day, week after week, it seems a little surreal that we are actually waiting for a precious little girl.  But we know that God has it all in control, and that's all that matters.

So that's it. Cold or no cold, the laundry beckons, and the sheets and towels must be changed. Have an awesome and safe weekend y'all.

Lessons from a Four Year Old

Andrew's four, and a lot of things come with being four. There are occasional fits, smart alec remarks here and there (didn't realize that happens at four and not fourteen), stomping of feet, whining . . . but something else also comes with being four . . . childlike faith.

When Andrew asks "God and Jesus" . . . he always prays to "God and Jesus" . . . try explaining The Trinity to a four year old . . . anyway, when he prays, he believes that God is listening plain and simple, and he trusts that God is on the job.

He prays for rain without fail every single day. His prayers for rain are long and detailed. "Dear God and Jesus, Thank you for all the rain we've had, and please send more rain for the plants, and the dirt, and the trees, and the leaves on the trees, and the beautiful flowers, and the leaves on the flowers, and the roots, and the roses, and the animals, and the grass . . . " It last for quite a while, but when he's done, he firmly believes it's going to rain. And you know, since he's started praying for rain, we've had more rain than we've had in the whole previous year. Now, I'm not saying that it's Andrew in particular that's brought the rain and that he has some special connection to God that no one else has. My point is the childlike faith that accompanies the prayer . . . the belief and trust that cannot be changed.

The past couple of days Andrew's also been breaking out in hives. Through it all he's insisted that "Jesus will fix his bumps", and so while I'm running around frantically trying to find some Benadryl that hasn't expired and racking my brain trying to figure out what's causing the hives, my four year old son is not in the least bit concerned about the itchy bumps spreading over his body. I'm not saying that he doesn't need medicine or that a trip to the doctor isn't warranted (we're actually going in a little while), but I'm once again taken aback at the way that a four year old seems to have a better grasp on trusting God than the older and wiser adults in his life.

While rushing around looking for said Benadryl the other night, a thought (which I'm 100% sure was from God) flashed through my mind, "This is what childlike faith is." Maybe I'm dense. Maybe everyone else grasped this years ago, but again, God used my four year old to show me something so simple yet so profound. When I pray, do I really trust God? Not necessarily to do exactly what I want, but simply that He loves me and will certainly do what's best for me? Do I believe that He hears my prayers for rain, both literally and figuratively?

God calls us to come as little children with a childlike faith. He does not call to be childish, but somewhere along the way, I think we've confused the two. We come stomping our feet and insisting on our way regardless of the consequences of getting what we think we want or need at the moment. But Jesus wants us to come trusting and letting Him touch us with His love, His mercy, His peace, and His grace. He wants us to come as a little child.

Mark 10:13-15
¹³ Then they brought little children to Him, that He might touch them; but the disciples rebuked those who brought them. ¹⁴ But when Jesus saw it, He was greatly displeased and said to them, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. ¹⁵ Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.”

The Saga of My Hair

Yes, I know. You can hardly contain your excitement.

This was my hair last Spring. (Love it here.)

The problem with me having long hair is that it rarely looks like the picture above. Instead it usually looks like this. (Yes, that's a frizzy ponytail. I have no idea why I look so angry . . . I'm not.)

My sister (a.ka. the hairdresser woman) gripes about the fact that my hair is always in a ponytail. And given that it's incredibly thick, the closer we get to summer the more I pull it up. Which led me to chop it off in June.



And in July (I really like it here too).

And in August.

I'm sure you're seeing a trend at this point. And usually this is what I do. I grow it out for months, and then cut it off. But I can't leave well enough alone, so I cut it more . . . and more . . . and more. Now I'm back to this point.

Took this fabulous picture this morning (round face, glasses, overall awful picture). (You should know, the kids aren't here yet. Don't worry I'm not falling down on the job.)

Anyway, I'm once again growing it out. Why? I miss my frizzy ponytail. It's a vicious cycle this growing it out and chopping it off. But I can't stop myself. Maybe I need an intervention.

Note: I don't make a habit of taking tons of pictures of myself. The only reason I took these was to see what my hair looked like to other people. I'm completely normal that way.

On Working Out

I'm one of those rare strange people who actually likes working out . . . or at least I used to. Since I had Andrew, my motivation has waned somewhat. For me the biggest downside to working out is that I tend to become . . . ummm . . . what's the word . . . oh yeah, obsessive about it. Which completely unlike me (insert sarcastic tone here).

I start out saying that I'm not going to push myself to the brink of death. I'm working out for my health not to break some kind of world record for the slowest time anyone's ever run a mile (I think I might possibly be the world's slowest runner . . . I can feel like I'm running like the wind when I'm practically standing still). But then some sort of switch flips, and I go into insane mode. I run. I lift five pound weights (my upper body strength is unmatched by that of any five year old out there). I do nine hundred fifty-seven crunches. I squat. I lunge. Remind me to tell y'all sometime about how my obsessive running (also known as ridiculously overdoing it) once led to horrible tendinitis in my knee . . . actually that's the whole story . . . you don't have to remind me. Just when I get into the shape I want to be in, I get tired and burnt out, and I quit (at least for a while). I've been in this cycle since Andrew was born. Before he came along, my time was really my own, so my whole exercise obsession was maintained consistently throughout college and the early years of my marriage.

So with spring looming and summer a few months away, I looked in the mirror this morning and thought, "I've got to get in shape." And of course I told myself I would walk a nice brisk two miles. Then I got on the treadmill. I thought to myself, "I'll run just a little bit. You know, just to get my heart rate up." I ran a mile without stopping. Now before you tell me how pathetic that is you should know that I haven't worked out at all in almost two months. Word to the wise, don't try to get back into shape by almost killing yourself. After I finished the first mile, I made myself walk a fast paced mile. Y'all my legs felt like they weighed 600 pounds, but I felt strong. I felt powerful. I am woman hear me roar. Okay, I'll stop now.

I'm determined to get back in shape and to keep the insano obsessive exercise freak at bay. Overall, when I work out, I feel happier and less stressed. So here's hoping that tomorrow I'm just as motivated. Either that or I need someone to get behind me with a horse whip.

Valentine's Day and Secret Agents

Hope everyone had a wonderful Valentine's Day. Ours was pretty low key. On Monday, I didn't work (our dryer got fixed . . . yay!), and since I had some time, I made one of Patrick's favorite dinners . . . fried shrimp, excessively cheesy and buttery potatoes, and corn on the cob. Any dinner that requires more than two pots/pans or a lot of prep and cooking time is reserved for weekends and days off, and I rarely fry anything. But Valentine's Day is a special occasion that calls for as much artery clogging food as possible.

Yesterday, Patrick showed up at the school during lunch with a gift certificate to this great little boutique that I love. Shopping beats flowers anyday . . . not that I don't love flowers . . . flowers are awesome, but clothes live so much longer than flowers. Please, don't read that sentence more than once. It's really stupid. And since I had cooked such a fabulous dinner the night before, we went out to eat Mexican last night.

As we were pulling into the driveway after dinner, Andrew asked, "Mommy when can I give you your Balentine's Day gift?" So I asked, "What did you get me for 'Balentine's' Day?" His response, "I don't know . . . what do you don't have?" I told him I didn't have a million dollars. He said, "Okay, we'll get you a million dollars, but we'll have to choke someone." Don't worry. He's not generally violent. I have know idea where he got that . . . I'll call a shrink asap.

After Andrew went to bed last night, we watched "The Double" on Netflix. Apparently, it came out last year, but I swear I have never heard of this movie. But then I generally don't see movies that are for people over the age of eight which might explain why I've never heard of it. Patrick watched it last week, and he wanted me to watch it. It stars Richard Gere, and it's about C.I.A. and F.B.I. agents that are secretly double agents (as opposed to openly being double agents). They work for both the U.S. and Russia. Of course, I couldn't just take the movie at face value. I'm still trying to figure out which country the agents were actually loyal to. I mean, were they Russian agents masquerading as agents for the U.S., or was it the other way around? I'm inclined to think that it was the first. Which really concerns me. How common are these double agents? This is causing me a lot of concern. Not to mention, I dreamed all night about secret agents and kidnappers, and people holding me at gunpoint. I woke up refreshed and ready for work.

So yeah, it was a really great Valentine's Day movie. Y'all should check it out sometime.

Confessions of a Germaphobe

Last Friday night, I went out to dinner with my boys (that would be my husband and son . . . in case your confused). On the way home, we had to swing by Walgreen's to get a couple things, and so I figured I'd check out what was new in the Redbox. I have a Redbox app on my phone. How sad and pathetic is that?

Anyway, I noticed that Contagion had just come out. You know, the movie about a worldwide epidemic where thousands of people die, and it's not really that unbelievable. You know, the type of movie that I should never, in a thousand years and then some, be allowed to watch. Yep that's the one. So I talked Patrick into renting it. I've finally come to the point where I think I can talk about it. Although, I may now need therapy.

After we wrestled Andrew into bed, and then made him get back in bed 26 times . . .he's pretty small . . . I'm thinking about reinstating the crib . . . four year olds can still sleep in a crib . . . right? That's a joke . . . sort of. Okay, so we finally made him stay in bed, and we started the movie. Y'all I'm not kidding when I say that I came very close to hyperventilating in the first fifteen minutes. My twitter followers (all 20 of them) and facebook friends may have noticed that I was posting comments in rapid succession. That's because I was trying to distract myself from the very realistic and disturbing scenes of death.

I watched the movie in its entirety. Patrick fell asleep. Apparently, people like him think movies about worldwide death and destruction are boring. Needless to say, the movie did not leave me feeling any sense of security. Nope instead I'm planning on stocking up on bottled water and buying hazmat suits in various sizes. You know, just in case . . .

Knowing God Vs. Knowing About God

This is long. Really long. I'm sorry for that, and if you don't want to read it, I completely understand. For me it is a way to work (write?) out what I feel God is doing in my life at the moment.

So y'all know (or at least I think you know) that I decided to start this year off seeking God more and working to move forward in complete freedom in Him. Did that sentence make any sense? Anyway, I've spent a lot of time reading, studying, and praying.

I read, and loved, "Think Differently, Live Differently" by Bob Hamp. That was an accomplishment in and of itself, because as much as I love reading, I don't really love reading nonfiction. But it was a great book. One of the key ideas that I came away from the book with was the concept that we often see freedom as getting free from something whether it be anger, fear, an addiction, a bad relationship, etc., but in reality "to be free is to be able to act and react fully out of who you were designed and created to be, regardless of the circumstances of your life or the behavior of the people around you" (From "Think Differently, Live Differently" listed as location 603 on my Kindle). I mean think about that for a minute. Being free isn't about not doing something or thinking something. Being free is about being everything God created you to be.

So anyway, I've been trying to figure out who exactly it is that God created me to be. Not in an identity crisis sort of way. Although, I do think that without Christ in our lives, we have a major identity problem, but I want to fully understand who I am to God. Like I said, I've been praying and reading and talking to God about this. But if you want to know the truth, sometimes I feel like God doesn't talk back. I don't mean literally, but you know there are some people who say, "God showed me this" or "God showed me that". First off, I know some people throw that around way too much and use the whole "God showed me" line to get people to do what they want. But there are people who God really does "talk" to, and I guess I had always just assumed I wasn't one of those people.

But then I started to realize that God will talk to everyone and anyone if they will just listen. The problem is I'm not a listener. I'm a talker, and I tend to hijack conversations. So I may be praying a lot, but I'm not listening much. And what a concept to think that prayer is actually a two-way conversation.

Okay so I've said all that to say this, early this morning, I was kind of drifting in and out of sleep, when I had the thought, "You know a lot about Me, but have you ever taken the time to really get to know Me." Okay, first of all, I know without a doubt that "Me" is God. And second of all I realized that since that is about the only time of the day or night that I'm both mentally and physically quiet, it's about the only time for Him to "speak" to me. I use the word "speak" loosely, because I did not hear an audible voice. Like I said, it was more of a thought, but I know it wasn't really my thought.

I started to think about what God was saying to me. Yes, I'm a Christian and yes, I do know Him to an extent. But a lot of times my Christianity is very one-sided. I tell God my problems, and I expect Him to solve them. I talk to Him a lot, but I don't communicate with Him like I should. Communication is a two way street not a one-sided conversation. 

I've been in church as long as I can remember. My team always wins at Bible Trivia. I know all the answers to all the Sunday School questions. I know a lot about God, but now it's time to grow up. It's time to get to know God not just as a problem-solver or a rescuer but to get to know Him just for the sheer pleasure of knowing Him. So I'm going to start listening more and talking less. I'm going to read my Bible not only to find scriptures that inspire, lead, and guide me, but also to really get to know God and His character. I know that on this side of Heaven, none of us will know Him in all His fullness, but that doesn't mean that each day we can't know Him just a little bit better.

Am I Alone Here?

Last February, just a few days post Valentine's Day, I came down with the flu (and I had a flu shot). I started running fever on a Wednesday night. I headed to the doctor on Thursday morning, and by lunchtime I was in bed with an official diagnosis of the flu. I had a wicked sore throat, a horrible cough, a pounding headache, and a fever that spiked to 104 more than once. I didn't leave the bed for four days except to take a bath and grab a cup of hot tea. Andrew and Patrick would stand at the door and wave and drop off food and drinks at the door and then run far far away.

Now, before you feel sorry for me, I have a confession to make. Those weren't exactly the worst four days of my life. Sad? Yes. True? Even more so. I mean, I don't particularly enjoy being sick, and I'm not making light of my good health. But not only did I have an excuse to lay around for four days, but I had no choice. Since I couldn't stand up for more than two minutes without feeling like I was going to pass out, I was forced to be the laziest human being on Earth. I read the entire Hunger Games series. I watched movies. I surfed the web. Yes, I did all of that . . . with the flu, and I can't say that I hated every moment. Actually, it was kind of nice. I'm not saying I want the flu again . . . I don't. I'm just making the point that I'm always busy. It's part of life. It's part of being a full time wife, mom, and teacher. And most days it's great, but every so often we are forced to take a break, and sometimes a forced break is what we need.

Hopefully, I'm not the only crazy person that looks back on a short four day illness with some sense of fondness?!?