highs and lows of our holiday vacation....errrr....trip

high: 7 nights, 8 days in Beaver Creek, Colorado. Snowy mountains. Loads of Christmas lights. Toasty fires. Warm blankets.
low: -7 degrees when we left this morning
high: Riding the snow cat up Bachelor Gulch mountain with Ben and my mom for lunch at Zach's cabin
low: Ben and I both making doctors visits for horrible colds that HAD to have been something more than a cold...but wasn't
high: 8 adults and 1 Ben in the house for days. Lots of down time for me...to enjoy my horrible cold.
low: wanting desperatly for more conversation with my family than I got
high: having my Alzheimer's suffering Gramma ask me the rules to a card game (that we've been playing since I was a child) every time it was her turn, and then beat me time after time after time after time.
low: getting ben's leg caught in a changing table railing at the airport on our way home (b/c I pulled him up too fast and was in a hurry) and then seeing him limp on it all afternoon.
high: greg taking one for the team and changing ben's dirty diaper at the airport (5 minutes after I changed an apparently not dirty one) and just throwing his shirt away b/c it was a dirty diaper casualty.
low: the realities of traveling on the 27th of December with a toddler and an 87 year old grandmother in a wheel chair. With 6 pieces of luggage. And a car seat. (and a tired pregnant woman) Through the Denver airport. Where they don't let you push your own wheel chair. But instead....you get to wait forEVER for someone to let you use the "Frontier Airlines" issued wheel chair...about 10 feet before they transfer the wheel chair passenger to a cart (which the rest of the traveling party is not allowed to ride on, even if they are pregnant and tired)...then back to a wheel chair....with 30 minute waits with each hand off.
high: finding an abandoned United Airlines wheel chair....throwing Gramma in....and RUNNING through the airport pushing the chair ourselves with airline employees, security guards and other travelers hollaring, hootings, pointing and trying to stop us....then ditching the chair at a nearby gate and pretending it never happened.
low: coming down off my 8 day Christmas cookie sugar high (and fudge and pecan balls and all sorts of other high calorie low nutrition treats that my unborn child was CRAVING!)
high: being home.
low: realizing we were locked out of our home.
high: greg breaking in through a window...that apparently doesn't lock like it should...while the house alarm was going off. Sorry neighbors!
low: starring at suitcases that need to be unpacked....eventually.
high: knowing that we don't REALLY have to travel again until next Christmas....maybe.

i object!

Oh....the highs and lows of the holidays. As mentioned in a previous post, I just LOVE Christmas cards. The excitement of getting something in the mail other than coupons (that I should be clipping but never do) and mountains of junk mail. This time of year I carefully sort through each piece, looking for a festive envelope, with a familiar return address or Santa stamp. Oh I get so excited. To me, it's a little "still thinking about you" from old friends. And pictures of little babies. And dogs. I love it! And some over achievers out there even include a Christmas letter with family updates, significant happenings in the past year, etc. My in-laws included such a letter this year. It celebrated young Chris' (Greg's little brother) graduation from UT. Brabara and Reid's trip to Italy and updates on the rest of the family. I was kindly mentioned in the second paragraph along with the words "stay at home mom." And that was it. "Lindsay is a stay at home mom." She rarely leaves the house. Is of little use to society, except to her adoring son Ben. Who is well fed and bathed daily. They do not do much of anything. Except stay home. And stare at each other.

That phrase just rubs me the wrong way. I've taken to telling people I'm between jobs...and can easily segway to the economy and feel relevant and smart. Even though I don't know how to spell segway even close enough for spell check to recognize and tell me the correct spelling. Ewwww. Ewwww. Ewwww.

I just feel like we are all so different. And we approach parenting differently. And manage our houses differently. And we have different strengths and weaknesses. Just like in the job market. I think there should be job (sub) titles that we can talk about. Like "creative director" or "CFO - in a recession!" or "head chef" or "landscape architect" or "family therapist." And there are all the things we do outside of the home. Bible studies. Spanish class. Play group organizer. Baby shower thrower. Gift wrapper. Meal taker. Really good friend to people overwhelmed with babies. (Sweet friends...I am describing YOU all!)

I'm feeling the need to write a "response" letter (to share with the Thorburn's Christmas card distribution list) including all the things and I (and Ben) do OUTSIDE the home. Please let me know if you would like to receive a copy along with my recently updated resume.

alive!

The fog in my brain is clearing! The nausea is subsiding! And after 6 weeks of thinking about it....I finally have the energy to actually start addressing Christmas cards. Or at least trying to figure out who I can get away with NOT sending a Christmas card to this year. Oh, I know that sounds horrible, but seriously, the list is longer than a ridiculously long wedding guest list. There are too many kids growing up and moving out of their parents houses....and do they get their own card now? Only if they are related? Or married? Or send us a card? Are there rules for this? Emily Post where are you?

Further capitalizing on my burst of energy this week (total exaggeration...I just got off the couch for an extra hour each day) I, along with the help of my 87 year old grandmother and 21 month old Ben (really just a happy spectator), managed to buy, load, transport, un-load (this was dicey!), drag in the house, and fully decorate 6 foot tall Christmas tree. Last Sunday (pre 12 week pregnancy mark) I'd told my husband I didn't want a tree, mostly because I didn't have the umph it was going to take to make it happen. But post 12 week pregnancy mark....and back to life....I was determined to make Christmas happen in our house this week! And we did! And Ben wakes up every morning asking me to turn on the pretty tree lights. Oh the joy.

This week has been filled with all sorts of other (not really) note worthy moments. But I must say, by far the most significant, was getting to see our little bean of life on an ultra sound screen Friday morning. There he or she was....arms flailing, legs kicking and little heart beating. It was the only thing I wanted for Christmas.

big (brother) ben

I survived, ate turkey, and slept for 12 hours the first night we were home. We had so much fun in Texas with Greg's family. Ben LOVED playing with his cousins and woke up (BRIGHT AND WAY TOO EARLY) every morning saying, "I go play? I go play? OK!" And proceeded to open our bedroom door (he mastered climbing out of the pack and play on this trip! ekkk!), shut it behind him and go running off in his footed PJs in search of cousin fun.

He's getting so big. And speaking of big.....my appetite, my big need for a daily nap, my gonna get big belly and....Ben's going to be a BIG brother! (as if the "how many calories" post didn't give it away!)

We are so excited and have just passed the 12 week mark and continuing to pray for God's hand on our little one. Yea!

The Lazy Complex

Will I ever snap out of this first trimester sleepy daze? Have I forever lost all productivity? How will I ever keep up with two children?!?! (this will have to be addressed in a separate blog entry!) How many consecutive hours of the Food Network channel can I watch with out ever getting up to actually cook anything for my starving family? I've started saying things like, "I think I have mono (you know....the kissing disease that spread like wild fire in high school that left entire classes sick at home with a fever, sore throat and unbelievable lack of energy!)." And, "I only got a two hour nap today....I'm dragging."

I know this will not last forever. There is that brief period, between the first trimester, and when you get too big to sleep comfortably (when ever that may be) where you have the energy of two people. Able to clean entire houses, fix meals for days and decorate babies rooms....all before breakfast. I have BIG plans for that period. But I hope that it is brief....b/c it makes me tired just thinking about it.

hurry.....

what does an introvert do in a house full of 19 people and a 25 lb. turkey for 3 days?!?! hurry. help.

a different world

Still in Texas. Taking in the sights and sounds and smells. Remembering....what it was like...to live here. I grew up in a suburb of Houston, that could have been in any state in the country. But not far from our house, there was a world. There was a state. (That use to be it's own nation :) Where the roads are gavel and the driveways are long. With a mail box at the end. Where there are cows roaming and trains running through farm land. 4 way stop signs on highways. And barbwire fences separating spaces. Where land comes in acres, not feet. Where you could ride horses with your best friend and camp in a field...and see stars at night. Where the trees were tall, and old. Where the sounds were of nature. And they were peaceful. Where you could find....quite. Where you could get away. To a small town. For an afternoon. And feel like you were so far from home.

I ease back into this world so easily. I drive a little slower, talk a little tougher, and remember what it was like to be in this world. But when I enter it now, it feels different. Like I can not stay. Like people look at me, and they know, I do not belong here. That I am just visiting. When did this stop being just....home, and start feeling like a different world?

the white tornado

We are in Texas with Greg's family for Thanksgiving. And after only a few short hours, the stories of the "White Tornado" have begun. I thought they were entertaining a few years ago. Maybe even harmless tales of childhood mischief that could not be contained. Like the time the White Tornado, at the age of 2, unlocked the back door, left the house in a diaper and began to explore the neighborhood (that bordered a very busy street) at 7:00 at night. He was found 2 blocks from home, naked (b/c the diaper was dirty and obviously needed to be taken off) by his dad driving home from work. Or the time his mom looked up to see her 5 year old son and his friend on the ledge of a two story house in Mexico, with an 16 month old White Tornado shuffling along right behind them. B/c obviously there are no screens on windows in Mexico City to prevent such things. Enter story of the White Tornado's cousin that actually fell from a second story window doing the same thing. Or the time an 18 month old White Tornado dove in a swimming pool, unnoticed for minutes and unable to swim. He was found at the bottom of the pool. Lifeless. He was given CPR by his mother and God-father and rushed to the nearest hospital, hours away, where he regained consciousness the next morning. Or the time he was lost at Disneyland. Oh, and Disneyworld also. And countless other places.

Each of these stories now, as a mother, send chills up my spine. They physically make me sick to my stomach. For so many reasons. But mainly b/c I love that White Tornado and shutter at the thought of life without him....and I am raising his son.

Ben....if you EVER SO MUCH AS THINK about sneeking out of the house, climbing on anything higher than your toes, go near water or get out of my sight....I will tan your hide so....you NEVER forget it. (just in case Ben reads my blog).

resourceful

I was asked this week to use one word to describe myself. One word? Seriously? Surely as "complex" as I am it would take 1,000 words. And I would change them daily. As my moods change. As my identity changes (really my identity is in Christ and that never changes...but who I want to be here on earth, changes hourly, which is probably not healthy...add to the topics to discuss with my "mental helper"....when I make an appointment). Where was I?!?! Oh, one word. That describes me. So of course, in my identity lost way, I asked Jodie. :) She came back with all sorts of glowing praise type words. (One of the many reasons we're friends...and the same dress size). Sweet Jodie.

A few hours later I"m at a restaurant with my dear friend Karin. "Auntie Karin" as Ben calls her. He doesn't see her more than every other month or so, but seriously...he'll be playing or coloring and all the sudden look at me and say, "Auntie Karin?" Like when trying to explain that we were going to see Nana and Pop T this week, he just kept saying, "See Auntie Karin? See Auntie Karin?" It was love at first sight. Oh, and Karin held Ben for 2 hours asleep on his first plane flight. Maybe that was it? Anywho...we were at dinner Tuesday night. Hole in the wall Mexican place on the Island..no high chair. After 15 minutes of Ben all over the place, the floor, the table, our dinner....I instinctively grabbed the diaper bag, threw it over the seat of Ben's chair, with Ben seated in it and presto! A seat belt! That my friends....is "resourceful." (which was on Jodie's list) My new favorite word to describe myself. That and "desperate to eat tacos," but that's more than one word.

Lord....why the little ones?

I have been struggling so much this last year with the pain and suffering of little children. I have been angry and sad and confused as to why God allows His precious little ones to endure the greatest evils that plague our world. Why are they not saved from abuse, hunger, disease, famine, sickness, hurt. And why there are mothers and fathers all over the world that have to watch as their children fight to live. And the unborn, with out a voice, fight for the right to life. Lord....why? Help me to understand how, as our heavenly Father, you can let these little ones hurt.

There is so much joy and hope wrapped up in these little bundles. And with that, uncertainty and fear which has to lead to trust. Or despair. God, I pray for trust in You. You who flung the stars into space. And painted the sky. Who has a vision for your people. And loves and protects them eternally. I pray that in their suffering, they are comforted but your unfailing love.

Bananas and Bon Bons.....

try it! delicious and counts as a healthy fruit snack in my book!

what's in that head?

It has just occurred to me that my sweet Ben can say his ABCs, count to 10 in Spanish (but not English :), sign the "Itsy Bitsy Spider," sing the first part of Frosty the Snow Man (we're really over summer here and living vicariously through a board book that my mom gave Ben last winter), spot Elmo a mile away and wakes up asking for his Monkies (Curious George). But knows so little about Jesus. He remembers everything he hears and repeats everything we say. And everyday I am missing opportunities to tell him about the sweet love of Jesus! Sorry Elmo and Curious Jorge, you are going to time out....indefinently.

Like on an airplane

If you know me well....you probably know I have trouble um....how do you say....focusing? Specifically on one item/project/activity for an extended (more than 2 minutes) period of time. But I learned years ago on a cross country flight, that if confined to a small space (airplane seat...which is smaller than small. I'm a small person and BARELY fit!) with limited distractions (in-flight movies to not count as distractions b/c they are generally horrible and I'm never in an ideal seat to see the screen at the right angle) I am able to really buckle down and focus on something (usually work, a book, etc) from take off to landing. I heard about a writer that use to book a NY to LA round trip flight when he was having writers block and would write 5 hours West and 5 hours East. Due to limited funds, a small child and well honestly not really liking to fly THAT much. I have found the second best place (for me). The Cafe at Mariner's church. On Monday mornings I drop Ben off at the church nursery for "Mom's Morning Out" and I head in to the cafe and book store for 3-1/2 hours of uninterrupted focused time. Pray I use this time wisely!

How many calories....

are in a Pipes "big" breakfast (eggs, bacon, potatoes and pancakes), a bowl (or 3) of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch cereal, a log of Ritz crackers, a cheese steak sandwich, a cheese burger, and appetizer size mac & cheese, salad, slider and a birthday cup cake?

Just curious.

My little Pirate

I didn't think Ben was quite old enough to enjoy Halloween this year, but I was SO wrong! I found an excuse just about every day last week to dress Ben up in his (hand me down - THANK YOU SHARON!) adorable Pirate costume and he LOVED it. Boots and all. And by Friday night, if his hat fell off, he'd put it back on himself. We trick or treated (is that a verb?) in Irvine with some friends and their (had to have been at least twenty) kids. Ben was totally in to it. Followed the pack. Went door to door. Held open his little bag. And surrendered all candy to mom! He did even walk right past the candy giver at the door and into their house! I quickly went in after him and made a mental note to have the "stranger" conversation sooner rather than later. We made it about two streets worth of houses before Greg and I were over it. But I think Ben could have gone on for hours. Here's the jolly Pirate and his papa.

happy happy joy joy

hmmmm....just reread a few blog entries from the past couple months and to an outsider (are there any of you out there?) it kind of sounds like i'm sad and depressed. really, it's not like that! i'm just dramatic sometimes when i write. it helps me process. and sounds better. i promise i'm not embelishing the realities of my life to make it sound better. that would be pathetic.

anyway....i think i am a joyful person. friends - can i get a "YEA YOU ARE?!?!" i love celebrating the littlest victories. no mess on the island when Greg gets home, a 19 month old saying "pullllessssssse" as he's running around the house with a box of breakfast bars that i've told him he can't have, a painless trip to the DMV and no surprise written test - that really did happen a few years ago and i thought for sure i'd fail with out studying, but i passed - victory. i cherish opportunities to smile and laugh with friends. to enjoy the daily moments of life. to listen to the details of greg's work day when he gets home. and kiss him good night. i could have an whole other blog for my sweet Greg. to feel the sun on my shoulders. have lunch dates with sweet Ben. to connect with old friends. i get excited about the silliest things. making Christmas cards in October. sending pictures of Ben to his favorite people. they get so excited. which i love. finding new recipies that everyone loves. talking to my grandmother. listening to my aunt. learning new things. knowing Jesus. and this smile.

Hope.

The song "Cry Out to Jesus" by Third Day came up on my iPod during a random (there really is nothing random in this world) shuffle the other day. And it resonated with me.

"There is hope for the hopeless and rest for the weary and love for the broken heart. There is grace and forgiveness. Mercy and healing. That meet you where ever you are. Cry out to Jesus. Cry out to Jesus."

Sweet Jesus, thank you for seeing each tear that has fallen. Thank you for hurting with me. For knowing my pain and loving me perfectly in it. For giving me such joy and hope in my life. In my marriage. In my sweet Ben. In my family. And my friends. Thank you for celebrating each victory with me. Being my biggest fan. For being proud. For hoping with me...for a miracle.

forever marked

i have cried stains into the wood desk in our office this year as i've typed on my computer. tears for Judson. tears for our babies. tears for hurting friends. tears for strangers. so many tears. i feel like i should circle them with ink and label them. to document this journey. this season. this time when i have been forever changed by the hurt in this world and the love of Christ. and i am desperate to understand the balance. how joy and pain can exist in the same heart at the same moment.

i'm back

It's been an eventful month, ie. no time for blogging. Unfortunately that probably means no time for reflecting. Which really means no time for Jesus. YIKES! I shouldn't say it that way. I have been praying. A lot with Ben which I LOVE. He puts his little hands together and says, "pray?" And I do. And he says, "Amen!"....then, "mas?" And we pray more. But back to my month. I left Seva at the end of September. It just wasn't the right job at the right time. So Ben and I packed up and went to visit my folks in Houston for a week. (and family in Suger Land and College Station.) Things I learned: Ben loves to tormet my parents cat. "MOKEY JOE!" - Cat goes running for his life! Ben needs a dog. Ben loves his cousins and aunts and uncles and we need to visit them more. It really is more humid in Houston than you can even imagine. Literally. A sauna. Unreal. It wasn't even raining and the roads were wet. From the humidity. Is that possible? Did they teach us something about that in chemistry when I wasn't paying attention? Time does not exist between old friends. Everything seemed bigger when you were a little. You always feel like a kid in your parents house. Even if you have a kid. I am always looking over my shoulder to see if there is some one I know from a hundred years ago, who's name I won't be able to remember if they see me. This trip it was Amy Reedy (with child) at Chick-fil-a. And....there's no place like home. And after almost 10 years, California really is home. Except that my body has secretly stayed on Central Time and I have NO problem going to bed at 10:00 pm CT the first night I'm in Texas and getting a solid 10 hours of sleep. Ahhhh....that was nice!

what i remember...

i'm at my parents house in the woodlands this week and we have spent a lot of time cleaning out old closets, desks, dressers, etc as my parents prepare to sell the house i grew up in. i am not much of a pack rat. i'm kind of a throw it away so i don't have to find a perfect place to store it person. but apparently my mom is...the most organized pack rat ever. so i've been going through boxes and boxes of "artifacts" she kept from my childhood. making piles for trash and good will and a few, very few items that i want to hang on to. and it's surprising what those things are. those pictures, pieces of paper, cards and what not that so connect me to the raw emotion of my childhood. many that i didn't think twice about at the time, but now, with years in-between, they are beyond significant. they are pieces of the puzzel that fit together and tell a story.

a letter my mom wrote me at camp when i was 7 telling me that my good friend's brother had died of cancer.

a letter i had written my mom telling her i hated camp and didn't ever want to go again - wanting to prevent another loss.

old halloween costumes - I was the cutest bunny you've ever seen.

misc. dance and cheerleading uniforms that remind me of sweet times with sweet friends - and wanting to be popular.

journals from high school filled with anger. then Jesus. then love - wanting eternal acceptance.

report cards. i did get a C in geometry. and probably an F in spelling. is that how you spell geometry? - wanting to be smart.
slinky bracelets and ballet shoes.
a tarnished silver bracelet and a best friend charm - wanting desperately to be someones best friend.

a notebook from college with writings from my favorite class with Prof. Bump - wanting to be heard and understood.

lots of notes from old boyfriends that make me SO grateful for Greg. and thankful that i learned the lessons i did BEFORE i met him! and so sad for the loss of Tim Isom. February 1976 - September 2001.
prom dresses and school photos - wanting to be pretty and desired.
golf trophies - wanting my dad to be proud.
birthday cards i made for mom and dad...that reveal a tender soul in a little girl.

Lord, more than anything, I want You to be glorified. Be glorified in my life.

follow through

if you read my blog, you may have noticed that I have mentioned more than once that I am not the best, and sometimes the worst at follow through. you know....setting out on a quest, starting a project, committing to a goal....and actually following through to the very end, to that happy place of completion, victory, accomplishment! there are so many examples I could give you I don't even know where to start. But for instance at the gym this morning I think, "I will do 30 minutes of cardio and 20 minutes of weights." Which turns in to 25 minutes of cardio, 5 minutes of stretching and 10 (I'm serious) girlie push ups. And I rationalize it...I've been sick....haven't worked out in two weeks...I should take it easy. For the record, I"m not sure if I have ever NOT been able to think of a reason why I should take it easy at the gym. I wish where was a lazy monitor that would terminate my membership due to lack of sweat. B/c I'm sure the staff is looking. And thinking....why does she bother? But then they see little Ben flirting with the nursery worker and they understand....he BEGS me to take him to the gym! I digress. (I just wanted to say "I digress" b/c it's my favorite blog phrase!)

I've read the first chapter of hundreds of books. Embarked on dozens of healthy eating plans that lasted less than a day. Some less than a meal. :) Resolved to change countless habits. I trained for a marathon and ran 1/2. I bought light switches to replace the old ones in our house...they are still sitting in the garage. I have picture frames that are not hung. And paint still in cans.

I think one of the reasons for this behavior is that I just get so excited about the next project or goal, I forget about the current one. Or unprioritize it. I am QUEEN (in my world) of starting a new project with out finishing the one in progress. This is evident in my house all the time. The laundry is 1/2 done, the floors are 1/2 mopped, the bed is made but with out pillows, the groceries are put away, minus the rice, bread and beans, which sit on the counter for 2 days. The thing is....I get a LOT done in a day. I am very productive. I work fast. I move fast. And I leave things undone fast. I guess you could say I am impulsive. If something comes to mind, I do it. Even if I"m in the middle of something else. (Greg....if you're still reading, please stop. This is just documentation that I am your walking pet peeve and that can't be good for our relationship. Think fast of all the reasons you love me! And forgot this little itty bitty flaw.***) On a side note, my clients use to LOVE me b/c I would drop what ever I was doing when they called and jump on their request. I just thought I would say that to make myself feel better.

All this to say, I"m not feeling great about deciding to leave Séva. I mean, I feel good about the decision and am confident it is a good one for my family and I at this time, but....it kind of feels like quitting. And when I was in high school, and wanted to quit Cheerleading, and NCL, and my sorority in college, my mom pretty much forbid me from doing so. Am I just rebelling as an adult? Acting out in difiance 15 years later? Or is this unrelated. Probably unrelated. I'm grasping for clarity here people.

I've started thinking life is about the journey. Not the finish line. It's about what you learn along the way. Well....my journey for the next few months at least, involves less scheduled commitments than ever before. I will have endless hours to spend with Ben, holding his hand, sitting with him playing legos (his favorite past time that he insists I participate in now), finishing books I have started, investing in relationships I have neglected, etc. In this next phase of my life....I want to do a few things really well. I want to be present. And invest. In people and relationships. I want to listen more and talk less. Please Lord....help me to listen more and talk less. Help me to start what you want me to start. And finish strong! I pray that I would finish strong in my marriage, in parenting Ben, and in friendships. And most importantly....SO important....I pray that I finish strong with Jesus!

***it should be noted that my dear husband is KING of follow through. He is incapable (literally) of starting a new project with out finishing the current one and it amazes me! He can not stop working with out cleaning up for the day, go to bed with out reading the rest of the article, put the clothes in the new closet with out the second (and necessary) coat of paint on the wall, plant the flowers with out the proper drainage...you get the point. He works harder than any one I know. Doesn't over look a single detail. And can be trusted to complete any project he starts. I LOVE and admire this about him....even when I'm trying to talk him into dropping what he's doing to come play with me...and he won't !

going green (or blue)

there is this small (growing) part of me that wants to be a home-birthing, home-schooling, cloth diaper using, veggie eating, bike-riding, trash composting, 100% organic, carbon neutral, asset (instead of liability) to my family and this earth we call home. i am motivated by many factors, but mostly, i think all the products we use and consume today and the way we live our lives is to toxic and covered in chemicals to make things bigger, brighter, smellier, tastier and it can't be good for us. and i think it all causes cancer. i have no proof. but somehow, somewhere, i think that if i eliminate all of this toxic stuff from my life and my house...we are reducing our risk of getting cancer. and that makes me feel in control :)

i have lofty ideas, but unfortunately (as with many areas of my life....i am trying to get to the root of this behavior / complex don't worry!) have little follow through. there are so many competiting interests. namely, $...and time. but this weekend....i took a step. a little step that seemed so crazy to me just a few weeks ago, but now seems quite rational. and of course i am forcing this experiment on sweet ben. enter: cloth diapers! bronwen and i have done a respectable amount of research this past week and both purchased one cloth diaper for our babies. (don't remind me....i know ben is hardly a baby any more!)

you can see how happy he is in his cloth diaper and my sneekers. albiet he looks a bit like a sumo-wrestler.













minutes later there was a diaper malfunction. apparently it only took ben a couple minutes to figure out that the big white obvious velcro works just like on his sneekers and he took it off.













i put it back on, with shorts (that were a little snug with the bulky cloth diaper....yikes, something else to consider!) and he played and napped happy in his super soft cloth diaper. he also peed in his super soft cloth diaper. and i thanked him over and over and over again for not pooping in his super soft cloth diaper. so then it got washed and ready to go for the next trial date, which has not been set. if i'm going to commit to this....i'm going to have to buy more than one. and put it on him more than once. but one step at a time.

be not afraid...

ever since i was a child, i remember being afraid. afraid of being alone. afraid of being hurt. afraid of being lost. afraid of being attacked. afraid of being confined. afraid of dying. or the minutes right before. afraid of losing control. or going crazy. afraid of passing out in public. there are so many other fears i can not list them all. about 4 years ago, these fears manifested themselves into changes in behavior that started affecting my daily life. they stopped me in my tracks. i was afraid to drive on the freeway. somedays afraid to drive at all. afraid to stand in line at the grocery store if there was more than one person behind me. afraid to sit in church except in the back row. afraid to be alone at night. afraid to be in groups of more than a couple people.

the height of these fears coincided with (and directly related to) my first year of marriage, moving to a new apartment, my new husband leaving his job and looking for a new one for 6 months while waiting tables (afraid i was going to have to support our family forever), me taking a promotion that i wasn't quite ready for (afraid of failure), too much travel for my comfort (afraid of getting sick on a plane), and a million other simultaneous transitions like with living with a BOY! all super exciting fun times, but a bit overwhelming when experienced all at once.

with a little help, i was able to identified and label all of these thoughts and irrational fears as anxiety. surprisingly i felt great freedom by just acknowledging it as such. because it wasn't this unknown thing that could swallow me whole. it was something that many, many people live with and succeed in life with. it was something that books were written about and therapists focused on. something that i could talk about. and after tonight i am now thinking that i should have actually read the books and talked to the therapists.

it's been a long time since i have had a full blown anxiety attack. since before i was pregnant with ben. it is as if my body knew that as soon as i got pregnant, i was responsible for another person. and i didn't have time to worry about myself. and all these crazy fears.

but tonight...i was alone. and afriad. on the freeway. it was dark, and i was driving home from a meeting in hollywood. and my heart started racing. it was consuming me. and i could not get away. the cars were coming at me from all directions. so fast. i called greg. and pulled over. and tried to breathe. and i kept thinking why is this happening? i thought i was past this? how am i going to get home. i can't do this. talking to greg helped. i started telling him about my meetings, which got my mind off the fact that i was in the middle of shaddyville off the 5 freeway.

i don't know why i am writing this. i have no clarity. and i feel like i'm hung over.

Lord...you tell us so many times in the bible not to fear. Why am I afriad?

volunteerism....

greg and I just had an impromptu conversation in the kitchen about me not working any more. really i was talking and tired, sick (everyone has the cold and ben coughed three times this evening....please sweet Lord Jesus don't let this turn into a three week long cough) greg was listening to me come to the very rational conclusion that i don't want to work (volunteer) for Seva for no money any longer and the way my calculator sees it, the longer i work (for no money) the longer I'll have to work (for money) to get out of the land of negative pay and ever break even on this hair (ad)venture. and it's looking like years. and that feels like indentured servitude. and i think after the civil war that is against the law. and what if it's just ben and i for a while? is that ok? b/c two kids feels like it looks like ( to the outside world that I don't care what they think) a full time consuming job and justification for not working (outside the home which was really inside the home which never really worked). and i think i'm sore from chasing ben around fashion island yesterday. more sore than when i work out. which brings me to money saving conclusion #2....drop gym membership and take ben to run around fashion island every morning. or somewhere else that does not accept credit cards.

little lives...lost

I have been pregnant three times. And have one precious baby. And two sweet souls that I do not know. It has taken a while, several months, for me to think about these two little lives this way. I mourned the loss of a pregnancy, the loss of the joy of carrying a baby to term, of delivering a new life and growing our family. But I had not mourned the loss of life.

Today, these little lives feel a part of me like any child would. Our souls connected through the undeniable bond of motherhood. And I miss them. I miss who they would be as I approach the due date of our second would be child. There will be babies born this week, and next, that I will know, and love, but not as my own. Lord, help me through this season. Help me to cherish life and not question death.

Isaiah 41:10
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

I can't help but smile...

What is it about certain childhood memories that are so fresh you can taste them? Smell them? Hear them? Those little moments that you probably didn't even pause in as a child, didn't even think about, just lived in? I come from a family that values routine. So there wasn't a lot of variety. Or a lot of spontaneity. But there certainly were those activities that became rituals or traditions in our little family of four. And when I am reminded of them as an adult, I can't help but smile. We played a lot of golf growing up. And I walked miles down dewy fairways in search of a little white (sometimes hot pink!) ball that had traveled way off course. It was usually hot. And always humid. And when the grass was freshly cut, the little blades left behind would stick to my white leather golf shoes like magnets. And there was this smell. This smell so closely tied to the game and my dad and that course, that I can not separate them in my mind. And today, when I find myself walking by a fresh cut lawn, it takes me back to that fairway. Still looking for the ball.

And we use to go to the lake every weekend as a family in the summer. Lake Conroe in Texas. The boat (a 1976 Viking deck boat) was stored in dry shed a few miles from the boat launch. We'd drive up to Conroe, my brother and I vying for the first lake spotting the entire way, and pick up the boat, put it in the water, and hope the engine started on the first try. The sun was shinning and so hot. I'd be sweating before the boat was even in the water. We'd slowly head out, away from the shore, clamoring for who was going to get the first ski. I'd jump in, feet first, life jacket on, ready to go. The boat would pull me up out of the water, and it felt like I was flying. It was so peaceful. I was alone out on that water. Alone with my thoughts. The view of the shore and water all around. I was on my own island with the wind blowing in my face. And I was happy. And couldn't help but smile. I got so experience that joy on Lake McQueeney this past weekend....do you see the smile?

Fear of abandonment

I have been meaning to see a professional....mental....helper (read counselor, shrink, etc) for months (years) now and one of the issues that needs to be dealt with is my fear of abandonment. It surfaces in the strangest places in the most secure relationships and gives my mind a workout (in the unhealthiest sense of the word). Greg and I will be somewhere (ie...Denver this week at a restaurant) and he'll go to the bathroom and I'll think...I wonder if he's sneaking out the window right now and leaving? Before I type anymore...Greg, if you're reading this, I know that you love me and would never leave me....it's just my super creative, hilarious imagination talking :) Anywho....so I'm there with Ben, thinking...we can do this. We can find food....(I've just way over eaten...don't need to be thinking about food for days, but my 95th percentile baby will be getting hungry again eventually!) shelter, work...we can survive. I think this has something to do with my need to feel competent, like I can get through any situation with my big brain and creativity.

This is all so irrational b/c I've never really been abandoned before. I've been surrounded by good, loving people my entire life. Until this week. And it happened in the most unlikely way. I got a text, from my dear friend Jodie, telling me that my OBGYN (I can't spell out the words b/c I don't know how and b/c the sounds of the GYN word grosses me out) is leaving her medical practice to do "consulting" in Asia. Consulting? Consulting? Why did she not "consult" me and my hee haw before making this (irrational) decision? I LOVE Dr. Hsu. She is the most encouraging (you look GREAT at 39 weeks!), supportive (you'll be FINE during delivery), compassionate (literally holding me crying as the realization of my second miscarriage set in) doctor my hee haw and I have ever known. (albeit we've only known two others and the first was a man....no offense...but ewww.)

This is kind of funny. And kind of serious. I had such a good experience with Dr. Hsu while pregnant with Ben, and after. And she knows what I've been through the last 7 months, and I wanted her to be with me as I so nervously approached the thought of trying to get pregnant again. I don't want to find another Dr. And I don't want anyone to say anything other than "you are perfectly healthy and able to have as many children as you want with no more complications." I don't want to tell a new Dr. about our two losses this year, and see concern on their face. And have them see fear on mine. And I don't want a stranger sticking their whole fist....ewww!

I honestly have so many reservations about ever going to the doctor again with another pregnancy. Because all I've heard at my appointments this year has been bad news. "The baby isn't measuring big enough. The heart beat is too slow. It doesn't look good." I hate the fuzzy black and white ultra sound screen. That damn gel that you can't get off your nether region with out a shower. The look on the technition's face and silence in the room. When she doesn't want to tell me what she doesn't see. But has to answer when I ask...."is there a heart beat?"

Maybe it is time...for me to morph into my alter (eco) ego and go all natural. No doctor. No medicine. No machines. No epidural. WHAT?!?!? That might be taking it a step too far. Surely Greg can administer one at our home like I asked him very nicely to do when I was in labor with Ben. He refused that time but I think it's ONLY because we didn't have any iodine to sterilize.....anything.

This is too much to think about on my last day of vacation with only minutes (no minutes now!) remaining of Ben's afternoon nap. I will put more thought into this and let you (all my readers) know what your role will be in the home birth of our (Lord willing) next baby.

Grace, grace and more grace.

I am in Colorado at my parents' house for two weeks and trying to steal vacation moments on this trip. You know the difference. I need not explain.

So far so good here. (especially b/c I got to do yoga at the club and capitalize on their really good lattes this morning, so I'm in a happy, peaceful, caffeinated, place). My brother was here for a few days and the two of us went to the Vail Church on Sunday and heard a message that we both so needed to hear, and we needed to hear it sitting next to each other. We have only been to church together a handful of times in our lives. We did not grow up going to church, and we got saved at different times in very different places. But (praise the Lord!) we both know the same Jesus. In spite of that, we both know many of the same sins....intimately. Anger. Hurt. Envy. Bitterness. And apparently the Lord had plans to kill two (angry, bitter) birds with one stone (of truth).

The moral of the sermon Sunday is that we are called to extend endless grace to those around us. To those that hurt us. To those that make us feel insignificant...and unimportant. Those that do not know us, for who we are. That do not see value in what enjoy, because we enjoy it. That do not make the effort, to love us the way we need to be loved. We are called to extend grace to them, everyday, forever. Even if it is not recognized as grace. And we are not thanked. And our efforts are not noticed. Even if (this is the hardest one) they do not see Jesus in it. Or see Jesus ever.

Lord, please give us the strength, vision, and faithfulness to see Jesus and extend grace because of the unfathomable amount grace you have poured out on us, everyday, always, and forever.

works of love

I am in a book club with some friends (very smart friends I might add) and we are working our way through Works of Love by Soren Kierkegaard. I say this just so I can sound smart. Or well educated/well read. Something that is very important to my self image, that I spend very little time working towards. With that being said, I really have loved this group. My favorite teacher / pastor / brilliant theologically mind facilitates the group of mostly women and contends with talk of coffee, tea, dessert, sugar with that, a new baby cooing...etc. In the midst of all that, we talk about love. And Kierkegaard's revolutionary, yet 150+ year old vision of this cornerstone of our faith and relationship with Jesus. Love is not an emotion. Love is an act. Love is a duty. Love is a response. But how do we love? What does it look like?

For me it usually looks like doing nice things for people that have already done nice things for me. Mostly a response to love. That feels safe. If you love me, and you have demonstrated it, I feel safe to love you back. But only if you continue to love me proportionately to how much I love you. And maybe even more than I love you. There has to be balance or I might....sometime....maybe....spiral into an insecure ball of sin and implode....or instance.

Coupled with Kierkegaard, I am reading a very different book (comments excluded out of respect for the author) with an equally intelligent group of women focusing on respecting our husbands (...so they will love us more.) Really it is pointing us towards obedience to God through Christ. We (love) respect b/c God first loved us.

But what does this mean? When I am changing (poopy swimmer...gross!) diapers and cleaning the house and working on Seva and making dinner? When I am talking to my mom and listening to my aunt? When I am frustrated (read: jealous) with a friend or angry (read: irrational) with my husband? There are a few concepts that I have seen through these discussions that have impacted (Lord...please impact my heart to change!) me. In my own words (certainly not in the words of Kierkegaard....that I barely understand).

Love the people we see...not the people we want to see. It is easy to love the lovely. To love your husband when he brings you flowers, buys you a diamond and writes you a love letter all on the same day. To love your child when they listen to everything you say....all day long....and smile and tell you how great a mom you are. (tell me now....will this happen before age 18? or not?) To love a friend who calls to tell you what an inspiration you are to them. Etc. It is more challenging to love these same people, when they act out of their sin nature and hurt you. When they are impatient. Angry. Or indifferent towards you. When maybe...they don't even love you (the way you want to be loved). But we are called to love these people for who they are. Sinners. That's the reality. We are to love them on their worst days. And on our worst days. We are to love them when they hurt us. And when they deceive us. And when they ignore us. We are to love them. Period. There is a great love song my husband sent me years ago with these words.

I don't want to fall into your face.
I don't want to fall into your family.
And I don't want to fall into your circumstance. I just want to fall into you.
I don't want to fall into your faith.
I don't want to fall into your mystery.
And I don't want to fall into nothing else to do. I just want to fall into you.
I don't want to your past.
I don't what to fall into what you're going to be someday.
I don't want to fall into your accomplishments. I just want to fall into you.
And I don't want to fall into your touch.
And I don't want to fall into being next to you.
And I don't want to fall into you in love with me. I just want to fall into you.

This post is getting way too long. I'll seperate this into a few different posts. I'm out of coffee and Ben is moments from waking. But for now: "Love believes all things"...because God is high above all things...and can do anything. And we are to "Remain in love's debt"...because Christ freed us from our debt. Praise be His name.

sleep strike?!?!

When Ben was born, I quickly put him on a schedule, routine, what ever you want to call it. I don't function too well when I don't know what we're doing, when we're doing it, what's next, at what time, and I"m assured it will all be done by 10 pm so I can go to bed. Sounds a bit controlling when I write it all out like that, but I don't like to leave anything to chance...especially my precious 8 hours of beauty sleep. From the beginning it appeared that Ben LOVED this safe, consistent world of love that I closely managed for him. He was thriving. Always happy. A joy to be around. And when bedtime came, anywhere between 7:00 and 7:05 pm....he was ready, willing and able to walk his cute little buns down the hall, saying "horse, horse, horse" and "night night" all the way as if he was looking forward to it. With help from me, he would get in his crib, put his pacifier in his mouth, roll over and go to sleep. Friends and baby sitters commented on how EASILY he went to sleep. The same held true for nap time. Were we blessed? Or was it just amazing parenting? I didn't care which one.

It should be noted at this point that my husband hates bed time. As a child he hated bed time and he still (at this age) hates bed time. He often refuses to go to bed, says "I don't have to if I don't want to" (in different words) and finds all sorts of things (I'm sure really important things that can only be done after midnight) to do, research, read, watch, listen to....etc at all hours of the night. He often comes to bed hours after I have settled in for my great 8, or even better 9 hours of sleep.

All this to say that SOMETHING happened to completely rock my sweet Ben out of this perfect sleep behavior last week. Starting Tuesday night, I laid him in his bed and quickly left the room (like I do every sleep time every day) and shut the door. He proceeded to stand up and throw his horse and pacifier out of the crib and cry for the next 2 hours. It was such a hysterical cry that I kept going in thinking something was really really wrong. This first night, turned into the next, then nap times....even mentioning "night night" sent him into hysterics. He resisted PJs. And wouldn't get out of the bath...knowing that was one step closer to bed time. Had he and "horse" gotten in a fight that I didn't know about? Was there a lost pea under the mattress? A horrible nightmare about all parks shutting down or a food shortage?....wait....did Greg tell him he didn't have to go to bed if he didn't want to?!?!?!?!?!

I do not know what caused this change in (person....a totally different child!) behavior. What I do know is that I've resorted to bottles, rocking, reading, singing, bribing....I'd nurse him now if I could to get him to sleep!

Fast forward a week...you will be happy (and I will be sane) to know that Ben has eased back into his old, healthy, easy to sleep habits. And a light bulb went off at bible study this morning that the whole ordeal was probably caused by the crazy child care schedule we've been keeping the last 6 weeks. Little Ben just needed a little love (and a routine!)

My Sweet Ben

I thought I'd share my favorite Ben pictures and a few Ben quotes....after all, my blog is named after and inspired by him!

First birthday










This was documentation for a work experiments....babies DO like Séva (sevastyle.com) hair products!








Swim lesson....he loves the pool!









And he thinks Greg is HILARIOUS!












My favorite Ben words / phrases
Za-pato ouside (Greg implemented a new no shoes in the house rule and Ben LOVES it)
Baket ball, baket ball, baket ball (said in constant repetition from months 12-14)
Shut de do (as the door slams in your face)

How did I forget the Drive thru liquor....errr....I mean dairy?

I can NOT believe I neglected to mention the drive-thru dairy in my last post!!! Before I write anything else...I must share. There is a drive-thru dairy conveniently located approximately 200 yards from my front door. For those locals....it's on Baker between Mendoza and Fairview. It's been there for years....or decades. And I'd driven by with out giving it much thought day after day for years before I had a milk guzzling toddler. (it breaks my heart to admit that he is a toddler, but let's face it, there is nothing baby about my walking, talking, running and screaming opinionated, currently sleep-striking boy).

Back to the dairy. Shortly after sweet Ben started drinking milk, and before I implemented the milk inventory management system (ie...always keep 2+ gallons in the fridge) came a late night with the last of the milk being poured into Ben's night time bottle. Too tired (lazy) to go to the market that night....I put it off until the morning...when I'm a little smarter, quicker, and all around generally happier. So come early morning (so early son....the sun is not up!) Ben and I got in the car for a milk field trip. On our way to Stater Bros....I see the drive-thru dairy....make a hard (slightly illegal) left and pull in. I'm wide eyed, thinking it's not so hard being a mom after all, there are little miracles like drive-thru dairies if you just look for them. I pull up and as I start scanning my options....Bud Lite, Miller Lite Miller MGD, Hineken, Corona, Corona Lite, 12 oz., 40 oz....12 pack, cases, bottles, cans, all sound good....did I miss something? Where's the milk? I keep searching, quickly realizing that there is no way this pusdo liquor store is going to have organic milk. At the end of the line I see three or four milk options (none organic) which is about 1/10th of the beer selection. I pull up, pick my gallon of non-organic milk and easy as pie, pay with out getting out of the car. Ben still in PJs in the back seat. Glorious! And I consider getting a beer, for later in the day of course, but resist. I can always come back later, and STILL not have to get out of the car!

Picture of Ben on a milk stake out in front of the fridge.

There's no place like home (a shout out to the west side)

I've gone through some phases...where I don't like my neighborhood so much. I don't know what it is. Well, it's a lot of things....but I won't go into it b/c it will all sound like I am a horrible, self-centered, high maintenance person. And I'd rather not show my cards like that. Anywho....the last couple weeks, the city of Costa Mesa has surprised me. Lots of happy, hilarious and slightly white trash (is that term offensive to anyone?) surprises. Here are a few...

Angel's playground - the playground by our house has been under construction for the last 6 months and it re-opened last week and is larger than life! It's huge and clean and new and amazing. And I have only identified 6 potential head injury/broken bone sites for Ben. I am praying against them all. It is full of kids and moms at all hours and I love it!

Back yard pool - with the aforementioned park, I would have LOVED a community pool. But it doesn't exist and as far as I can tell on the City of Costa Mesa website (www.ci.costa-mesa.ca.us/)....there are no plans for one. As summer was approaching, I was bummed by this fact and searched my little mind for a remedy. Enter, the "inflatable" 3' wide, 6" deep back yard miracle. I bought the inflatable pool last summer, but with Ben not able to sit up, it was not much fun for anyone. But this summer is a whole new world. A few bath toys, a hat and some (LOTS of sunscreen GREG!) sunscreen and we're good to go for HOURS! The best part is I can actually "lay out" (a past time I thought was lost for years to come) while Ben plays happily in the pool. And another bonus....as discovered last weekend, if "happy" turns into "cranky and hysterical," we can change venue (go inside for a diaper and nap time) and hopefully attitude in 30 seconds...or less. Yea!

So we're cruising through summer, when the 4th of July approaches and low and behold, we live in the only city in Orange County that allows fire works! Holy white trash war zone. See "Holiday Curse" post for more information.

Cattle drive - I still have more information to gather on this one...but as far as I can tell...there is a legit CATTLE DRIVE through Costa Mesa, including down Harbor Blvd. in July as part of the fair festivities. Oh....I need a whole other post to talk about the fair. I'll leave that one alone for now.

Old Vine Restaurant - this is just a shout out to our favorite local dinner spot, turned breakfast spot, turned "buy all our wine and cheese" spot, which might turn into our vegetable co-op spot next. We're talking about it. I highly recommend the 4 course dinner with wine paring and a cab to get home.

I can do that...

This post is both a tribute to my "I can do that" friend Jenn Osler, and a warning against at home hair removal.

Jenn was my college roommate for one semester in college. My last semester. My "I only need to take 3 units of English and 3 units of intro to dance for non-majors to gradudate" semester (some how I neglected to take any electives my first few years in college and had to catch up near the end). It was my last horah in Austin, knowing that life was moving me some where new very soon. And I was determined to go out with a bang. Or a head ache. Jenn was dating a tennis pro, which conveniently opened up all sorts of doors for us, and run ins with other tennis pros. And free diet coke at "the club." We played tennis. And drank beer after tennis. And ran the Capital 10,000 race, and drove to Waco one night to pick up a back pack from a friend. And went to Skishores on Lake Austin for the best burger ever. And we went skiing for spring break. And that is maybe where I heard Jenn's famous line....or some variation there of. "I can do that." I can ski a double black. I can fix your boot. I can hail a cab. I can drive the Caddi.

After college, Jenn moved to Newport Beach where I was living and we worked together for several years. The motto grew. I can make that picture frame. I can re-glaze my sink. I can run a marathon. And another marathon....faster. And another marathon. I can go to Mammoth this weekend. And Hawaii the next. And the beauty is that she did. She did it all. With such confidence and energy. I loved it. And I miss it. (move back to California Jenn). No...she's happy, b/c she said "I can get into Law school" and she did. And she's 2/3 done!!!

So the other night....I was looking at my unruly eyebrows and thought of my sweet friend Jenn. :) I thought....I can wax my own eye brows....and save a little casheshe. I can draw a straight line. How hard can it be?

The directions say, "Microwave the wax for no more than 1 minute." Of course it's not soft after one minute....I'll try two. Boiling. Too hot. Blow.....blow....stir. Sticky. How do I get this off the stick. Oh...it's on my fingers....can't get it off. It's on all my fingers. Sticky. Stir, stir. Cool enough. I try to apply to a safe area (between the eye brows...don't have to be so precise there)....swipe on. Too much. How do I get this out of my hair? I only want those ones gone, not those ones. Forget it....one....two.....OUCH! It does hurt just as bad when you do it to yourself. I'll spare you the rest of the details. But I only successfully removed about 4 unwanted hairs on my face, and lost all feeling in my finger tips. Still trying to get the wax off. I can do lots of things other than 1)run as fast as Jenn, and 2)wax my eyebrows.

Holiday curse? (ie....holy vomit!)

I should have seen is coming! It's Wednesday night....two days before the 4th of July. I can taste the morning donuts, hear the parade, smell the bbq's, and feel the sun on my skin at the pool! I look forward to all holidays. 4th of July being no exception. Greg is going to be off work for three days. It's an excuse to "parade" sweet Ben around the neighborhood dressed in new patriotic clothes sent by "Gama" (Grandma Nance). And just feels like something you should celebrate with kids...and streamers.

In light of those expectations....we had planned on having a few friends and their kids over for donuts Friday (the 4th) morning, then participating in our neighborhood parade. Then home for nap time, and on to another friend's pool for an afternoon BBQ and party with several families. My idea of a fabulous day! I'm sure my poor 16 month old boy was overwhelmed just thinking about it. Maybe I shared too much information with him too early in the week. Because.....

Back up to Wednesday night. Ben is sound asleep...Greg and I are done with dinner, tidying up the house...and I hear a cough, then cry from Ben's room. I slowly open the door, as to not wake him if he's asleep, and the smell hits me like a kick in the gut, like a tidal wave...a North Shore in the winter tidal wave....ugh.....vomit! I am afraid to turn on the light, but clearly have to. I illuminate the room only to find Ben, the crib, and the carpet COVERED in blueberry, grape, turkey puke! Oh my goodness...where do I start? The baby? The carpet? Ewwwww! I holler for Greg, we tag team a baby bath, several rounds of carpet cleaning and a unanimous decision that Ben can NOT sleep anywhere near his room b/c the smell is horrible! In fact that entire end of the house now smells. We set up the pack n play in the guest room and get him settled and back to sleep. Then....cough, cry....vomit. More carpet cleaning. The cycle repeats. And repeats. Fortunately we were smart enough to put towels down in the guest room so he didn't actually puke on any more carpet...the cleaning was still focused in his room. He eventually fell asleep and stayed asleep until 7 am.

Thursday (T-minus 24 hours until parade day!) I had a baby sitter coming and questioned my parent decision making skills in deciding to actually leave him with a sitter....but I HAD to go to work that day so I left. I get a text at 10:30 saying that he puked, but just a little apple sauce...and on the tile. After Wednesday night...not a big deal. Not we're at a little less than 24 hours and I sadly cancel the donut breakfast and parade party for Friday morning, but plan for Greg, Ben and I to still participate. BUT I had FULL intentions of partying like a rock star (mom) at the pool Friday afternoon. As long as there was no more puke.

Friday - PARADE DAY! Happy 4th of July! We ate, we paraded, we played at the park...that's odd....Ben "I never stop talking" Thorburn hasn't said a word since breakfast. How about some lunch? Hmmmm....not hungry? He's probably just hot and tired from all the 4th of July fun. Nap time. I hope it's a good one b/c we have a SUPER fun party at 4:00! Minutes later....cough...cry....you know it's coming. Puke. Seriously? Poor little guy. Clean up. Nap strike. It's hours before it occurs to me that we can not in fact take poor little Ben to the 4th of July party at the pool....in the sun....fun in the sun....and burgers. So sad.

But we did decide to take him to Ikea thinking he was feeling better only to have him puke down the back of Greg's shirt and into a pile on the floor. We must be morons.

So Ben went to be at 7:00. Greg and I opened a nice bottle of wine, had a make shift 4th of July dinner with potato salad, chicken and corn on the cob. And enjoyed one of the best dinners (minus the food) in a long time.

I can't complete this post with out mentioning the insanity that ensued after the sun went down. I hadn't really thought about the fact that we've never spent the 4th of July in Costa Mesa. Holy illegal fire works! EVERY house on every street has make shift "fireworks" platforms fashioned out of ladders and plywood, and audience of 10-15 people in lawn chairs and endless amounts of legal fireworks, and a few smuggled in from TJ. Serious business. Our neighborhood (the only one in Orange County that allows fire works) was a white trash war zone. Hilarious. And a little scary. And I am already planning next year's festivities, but will not tell Ben about it so it's doesn't upset his stomach!

And just so you know...after resisting the (totally rational!) urge to call Empire Carpet....call today, deliver tomorrow...you know the annoying commercial...b/c Ben's room still smelled SO bad. We pulled up the carpet in his room and sprayed a 2/3 C to 1 gallon mix of bleach and water on the carpet pad and back side of the carpet, let it dry, then followed it up with a sprinkling (LIBERAL sprinkling) of baking soda and a few more runs of the vacuum. I am happy to report that the smell is (mostly) gone and Ben is back in his room. With a permanent towel under his crib to (cover the stain from the blueberry vomit....what? i didn't say the evidence was gone, just the smell) and just in case he EVER pukes again. Surely he won't ever puke again?!?!

Chosen

One of the most deeply held beliefs I have is that God, in his infinite love, chose me, before the creation of the world, to be his beloved daughter.

But I have questioned this choice over and over the last year. Not questioning God's saving grace. But questioning why...why me? Why any of us? And not just in terms of salvation. But why all together?

Why are some are chosen for greatness and some are chosen for great pain? Why are some chosen to live today....and others chosen to die? I have seen more suffering in the last year than in all my life. Has this been a hard year for everyone? Everywhere? It started with those around me, friends, dear friends. Hurting. Then, in May....it, this pain and hurt of living in a fallen world, entered my life like never before.

It is as if I had so flippantly accepted the eternal reality of the fact that some people go to heaven and some people to go hell. But I balk at the earthly way this plays out. As if I was ok with the concept of eternal suffering, but not today's suffering. Not that for some, life on earth IS hell. Is this making sense? I had never really thought about the suffering in hell, until I saw pain that I could not imagine here on earth. Why Lord? I'd always thought not to question the why's of salvation. But now I'm questioning not only that.....but the why's of the here and now.

Lord, help me to understand. And in my confusion, help me to seek your face. I pray that in the midst of this, I choose to love You, because You first loved me. That I submit to Your will because I know it is good.

Calendaring (kāl'ən-dər-ing)

Is that a word? I hope so, b/c I think it might be my special purpose. I spend (mmm....not feeling like I should tell you exactly how much time....that could be spent actually doing something instead of just planning for it) a lot of time looking at, updating, editing, and organizing my calendar. It's all electronic. Thank goodness b/c I hate my handwriting. I can add, edit, delete; parties, appointments, reminders...and it all looks so pretty! It's even color coded for different parts of life....home, work, etc. Really it's just home vs. work. I don't have an etc.

To be honest...sometimes I add stuff to my calendar to make it feel like I've been more productive than I have. And sometimes I delete stuff off my calendar when I'm stressed to make it feel like I don't have too much going on. I like it to look and feel balanced, even when life is not. I evaluate my life based on that calendar.

I find myself just staring at it today. Not knowing what I want to add, or delete. What I want summer to look like. What I want next year to look like. What I want the rest of my life to look like. Work? Kids? Travel? Study? Sleep? (it would not be unlike me to actually "schedule" sleep!)

What's next? When will it come? Will I be ready?

I want to know. And when. I want to anticipate and plan and prepare. I want to jump ahead. But today I resist. Has this recent trial taught me patience? I trait I could no more comprehend than exude prior to the waiting I was forced to do this past month? Lord, I pray it is so. I pray You have taught and I have learned the art of living in the present facilitated by patience. I pray that I see my calendar as you see it. A little dot on the line of eternity. Beginning farther back than I can imagine and moving day by day towards You.

Heaven or Hell?

I've always thought of hell as a really hot place. Like really hot. Hotter than Houston in the summer. Hot enough to fry not just eggs, but entire chickens on the sidewalk hot. Melt your shoes hot. 115 degrees hot? Maybe. That's how hot it was in Palm Desert this weekend....but low and behold, it felt like a little piece of heaven. This weekend I spent 24 glorious hours sweating out the anger, sadness, uncertainty and confusion of the last month. I was surrounded by the healing presence of girl friends, cacti and Texas sheet cake*. I enjoyed dips in the pool, quite time in the perfect chenille upholstered chair and uninterrupted conversations about everything from shampoo (see sevastyle.com for more information) to Senator Obama. Ok, not much talk about Obama...but everyone else is talking about him, right?

This weekend was heaven my friends....pure heaven.

*Texas Sheet Cake

Cake:
1 cup butter
1 cup water
1/4 cup cocoa
2 cups sugar
2 cups flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
Frosting (see below)
chopped pecans

Frosting:
1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup cocoa
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons milk
1 box (1 pound) confectioners' sugar, sifted (4 1/4 cups sifted)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Cake: Combine butter, water, and cocoa in saucepan over medium heat; heat until butter melts. Add sugar, flour, salt, eggs, soda, sour cream, and vanilla; mix well. Pour into a 15x10x1-inch jelly roll pan. Bake at 350° for 20 minutes. Spread frosting over hot cake and sprinkle with chopped pecans.

For frosting, combine butter, cocoa, and milk in a saucepan; bring to a boil. Add remaining ingredients and mix well with electric mixer. Spread over the hot sheet cake then sprinkle with chopped pecans.

(Cheese) Biscuits and (sausage) gravy

The original title for this post was "Apples and peanut butter." Clearly my day started better than it ended. It is only 7:30 pm....so you'd think there'd still time for it to turn around, but unfortunately (for my messy house...and my husband) I've gotten into the habit of collapsing on the couch as soon as my son goes to bed around 7:00 (ie....he's still in his crib "fussing"..."screaming"....what's the difference?) and taking a little hour to two hour nap, waking up, getting ready for bed, and going back to sleep.

I'm tired (and hungry...but we'll get to that). I'm tired, because I'm pregnant. And I'm sad because I've been told by my doctor that the pregnancy is not viable based on the baby's size and very slow heartbeat. So I'm tired. Which is totally normal for someone 10 weeks pregnant. But considering I've been told that I won't be delivering a baby in 6 months, tired feels lazy. It feels depressed. It feels like I'm selfish (laying on the couch on Father's day) and not very fun for my son. Like I'm not a good mom with one child...why would I be entrusted with a second? I know this is crazy hormonal, grieving Lindsay talking. And I don't particularly like what she has to say. But she's STILL talking. So....I will shut her up.

Enter....comfort food. My husband likes to refer to it as discomfort food b/c "technically" I'm lactose intolerant and there is a little bit of dairy in (cheese) biscuits and (sausage) gravy...with butter on top...butter before the gravy which is really on top. I'm serious. Very serious. And it might make me feel not great in the morning. Update: I have eaten all the biscuits and gravy. And I think I offered some to my husband. Nice Father's day dinner. And I ate it all. And he doesn't know yet. Should I make more? HURRY....tell me!!!!! No time. Too tired.

This entry started as a tribute to an afternoon ritual with my mom that always seemed to make everything better. Apples and peanut butter snacks. She'd cut (I don't have the patience for coring and cutting apples) and I'd scoop out peanut butter and we'd eat and talk. "How was your day?" "What's for dinner?" "Can I go to Courtney's?" You know, the basics.

Right now....I want to be in HER kitchen, asking THOSE questions. Instead of in my kitchen (already feeling a little sick) asking "why am I having another miscarriage?" "when will this be over?" "will we have another baby?" "when will I feel normal again?" "is there something wrong with me?"

I do know Jesus...

but how would you know that? not from the faith, hope and love ring that i use to wear, but took off years ago, or the cross around my neck....where did that cross go? ...i think an ex-boyfriend gave that to me. is it in the ex-boyfriend box? do i still have an ex-boyfriend box? SHOULD i still have an ex-boyfriend box full of horrible tarnished cheap silver jewlery? definitely not. note to self: find and dispose of ex-boyfriend box. where was i? oh....do you know that i know Jesus? do you see it in how i spend my time (watching too much worthless TV instead of telling people about Jesus or even spending time with Jesus), or how i spend my money (where does the money go?). do you see it in the fear? in the worry? in the anxiety? do you hear it in my conversations? my relationships?

maybe you see it in my eyes? the little glimmer...of hope? the little bit of hope that i wish was so much bigger, the hope of Jesus that fills my soul? i hope you know...do you know...Jesus?

To my loyal readers (Jodie)

thank you for encouraging me to write and share the (often crazy) thoughts and ideas that come and go through my mind each day. don't worry....i won't be posting something every day. how would you ever keep up with your blog stalking?!?!

i am not determining a format or theme, identifying any off limit topics, or making any promises to write from now until (i am old and wise) the end of time...i'm just emptying my brain today. and we'll see what tomorrow brings.

love you!

linds

You look like you need a drink

I just keep learning new things... here in my 30s. Thought I had figured out the recipe for a happy life years ago. But low and behold, another 'how did I survive before this?' moment this afternoon.

Wine Clubs. Seriously? Seriously.

Unexpected knock at the door. The energy it takes to get off the couch (what are you doing on the couch again during your son's nap time? aren't there things to be done?!?!?!) , reminds you that you have no energy. But you press on to unfold the mystery of real estate solicitor (I know they are desperate for work these days... but please... no more flyers reminding me my house is not worth what I paid for it) or a high school kid selling candy. Mmmmmm.... chocolate sounds good. But to your surprise, a well dressed, nice looking UPS guy with a box. Sooooo much better!!! unfold mystery, unfold! signature required? Must be good. Am I 21 years old he asks? Seriously? Fabulous. I sign on the dotted line and pretend I'm 18.... my heart races. I know exactly what's inside. A little something that will complete dinner and my day. A glass (1/2 bottle) of cab that takes me back to Napa. Thank you Alpha Omega Winery. Did I look like I needed a drink?