Sunday, August 28, 2011

On riff raff and how amazing God is.

This post may sound a little snooty.  I assure you that it is not.  I've had a few experiences the last two days that lend to the writing of this post and so I just had to write it.  Yesterday morning started off beautifully.  We had a photo shoot in Cy-Fair with a very sweet family in a beautiful neighborhood.  They were nice people and it was a nice place.  We were there early and parked at the tennis courts to look over some e-mails and just chill before we went and met the family.  As we were pulling out Chris said, "That lady is calling the police on us."  And I really think that she was.  There was a lady standing on her porch, spying us out and wondering what in the heck these ruffians were doing parked at her tennis courts.  As we pulled away, Chris saw here mouth, "They're leaving." This just made me laugh.  She was afraid of US.  In our MINIVAN.  We do have tinted windows and Chris does have a goatee.  Other than that we look harmless.  We then went to a certain large retailer (left to your imagination to guess) at the end of the day yesterday.  I avoid this certain retailer at all cost, but it was the one-stop shop I was needing.  We went to the toy department and were strolling along when I heard someone behind me say, "Did you play with Barbie when you were growing up?" The answer was a loud, echoing, "HE**, yeah." I should preface this with the fact that Chris and I had been having a heated discussion on the way there and I was already a little on the edgy side.  I turned around slowly and met eyes with the woman who had so crudely and irresponsibly shouted out dirtiness within ear-shot of my precious babies.  We met eyes and I stared her down.  I didn't look away and honestly wondered if were about to tussle.  Side note- I would have gotten the beat down if we had "tussled."  Based on her looks, she probably knew all kinds of street fighting techniques.  It makes me laugh to even imagine for a second me "tussling" with this lady in the toy department.  Now back to reality.  I have never stared anyone down like this before.  I was determined that if she said anything at all to me, I was going to let her know how ridiculous it was that she had been so crude.  Of course, we didn't fight.  For my good, I'm thankful that we didn't.  For my families honor, I'm glad that we didn't.  It doesn't change the fact that I was and continue to be frustrated by the roughness of our society.  This afternoon, while Chris was helping the folks who bought our treadmill load up, there was a fist fight out in the road on our street.  Wow.  Those folks must have thought they were in the ghetto.  We live in a pretty good neighborhood and yet people are fighting in the street on a Sunday afternoon.  The thing is, this is normal in our society.  People are rough.  They talk rough, live rough and just share their general roughness freely with anyone who can see or hear them.  Here's why I am amazed.  God still loves us all. We may not cuss in public or fight in the street, but he knows when my heart is trashy after arguing with Chris.  He sees the yuck in me that no one else sees.  And he continues to love me.   He extends himself to us.  He doesn't lock eyes threateningly, he looks at us with mercy and compassion.  This doesn't change my disappointment with how dirty the world is and my deep, aching hunger to protect the eyes and ears of my kids.  A clean, safe world is "just what I've always wanted" for these little guys.  Because that's just not a reality, we'll work to shine the light of Jesus, not fist fight, and hopefully teach them to do the same. 

Friday, August 19, 2011

A Sad Story :)

I'm having a bit of a breakdown.  I've realized something about myself that is not "just what I've always wanted."  In fact it is something I have never wanted.  I am oficially frumpy.  I am that mom in the grocery store with the pony tail, t-shirt and shorts.  I haven't gone to sweat pants yet and don't plan to.  That is a little too far, even for my currently style-challenged self.  Somedays I don't even get dressed until 2 o'clock.  I work from home a lot and the rest of my time is occupied by caring for our home and our babies.  I love my life.  I do not love, however, my un-fancy self.  I remember growing up and thinking that I never wanted to become a frumpy mom.  In my naive 12-year-old mind I would think, "how much time and effort does it really take to fix yourself up a little?"  Rude kid.  Anyway, this doesn't just happen overnight.  It is a steady and gradual happening.  When you start out romancing your guy, you are all about how you look. You have time to and work hard at looking great.  When you get married you  realize that it's inevitable that he's going to see you looking crazy.  The decline begins.  The battle is being lost at this point.  Frumpy has started to take ground.  When your children come along you gain weight and lose sleep and appearance is the last thing on the priority list.  Your old, cool clothes don't fit anymore and so you get rid of them so that you don't have to be disappointed about carrying extra pounds.  Cue the sad music.  Blare it loud right now.  Then the next child comes along and you find yourself sliding, like an avalanche, down the mountain into frumpy land.  Sad, but true.  Now that I have discovered this about myself, I can only go up from here.  I am going to work hard to do a little better.  Maybe I'll iron my clothes some days.  I probably won't because I am the WORST at ironing.  Forget that part.  Maybe I will ask CHRIS to iron my clothes some days.  He's very good at ironing.  Maybe I will go and buy a pair of cute shoes.  Maybe I will start small and slowly work back into the much more presentable person that I used to be.  We'll see.  I'm not claiming to have ever been a stylish diva.  When I was in Junior High I wore Winnie the Pooh shorts, a CAT SWEATER complete with faux fur and snap pants. Of course I didn't wear those things all together.  I was a style disaster.  But somehow I always had friends.  And they were cool people too.  I think this must be a tribute to my personality.  Thank you, Lord, for giving me a personality that exceeds my cool factor.  Amen. 

Sunday, August 14, 2011


When we found out that we were expecting a second baby, we were super excited.  We loved Quinn like crazy and knew that the addition of a second baby would just add so much more love and joy to our home.  We were right.  I wasn't sure about how I would do with a boy.  I grew up in a house of girls, other than my Dad.  So far I think we're doing just fine.  We named the little man Judah because somehow, since the day that I very first heard that name, I knew that one day I would have a Judah of my own.  And Chris liked it too. :)  Judah means PRAISE.  I like the fact that Jesus was from the tribe of Judah.  Although we are not Jewish, I feel like this name was made for our little round-headed baby.  Quinn was a very mature baby.  She would observe things before making a move.  She would check out all of the possible effects of her decision and then make a mature choice. As mature as a 9 month old could be, I suppose. Judah, on the other hand, is a wild man.  We have a Dora car that rocks.  When Quinn was a little baby, she would ride it and push the buttons and then get off like the dainty little princess that she is.  Judah gets on and rides and then when it's time to get off he just throws his arms out to the side and falls off.  No tears.  Carry on.  It's hilarious.  Quinn got teeth at a year old.  I was getting concerned that baby dentures would be in our future.  Judah had them at 4 months-six of them.  It just makes sense that a little "shark-man" would need teeth to attack with.  He is also the gassiest baby I have ever known.  I have a lot of nieces and nephews and never have I known a baby with as much gas as this kid.  As much as Judah is a little wild guy, he is a Momma's baby.  Both of our babies have been.  I'm completely okay with that.  He is the sweetest natured guy.  You might not know this if you didn't know him well. He is a very rough and tumble baby.  His slapping, twisting, biting, kicking, and head butting is really just a result of him being such a manly little baby.  Judah has been and continues to be such a great blessing in our life.  This baby boy, gas, sharp teeth, wildness and all, is "just what I always wanted." 

Friday, August 5, 2011

My Dad is 60 today.

This has been a really weird week.  It went completely different than I planned even as late as Monday evening.  We started the week just like normal.  A full day of cleaning house, taking care of babies and getting ready for a fresh week with my CK responsibilities.  Lists.  Bills paid. A few groceries picked up.  Planning in motion.  We planned to end the week in Newton, celebrating my niece's 12th birthday tonight and my Dad's 60th tomorrow at lunch.  They share the same birthday- August 5th.  Monday night around midnight the plans drastically changed.  We received a series of calls informing us that my Dad had been taken to the hospital, where he flat-lined multiple times and was now being taken by ambulance to Beaumont.  Around 3 a.m. we gathered our thoughts and got moving toward Beaumont.  That day we almost lost him, several times.  Today is his birthday.  He's in a deep sleep in ICU in Beaumont. And it's his birthday. I know that God is good. I'm so glad that I have that established in my heart and that I know for a fact that He is good no matter what.  Still, life just really bites you in the rear sometimes.  We've been through this before, many times, but never to this extent.  We're praying and trusting God for His help, His will, His mercy.  I just couldn't go without writing about this.  It's one of those weird times that I just feel like the words can bleed out and it somehow makes things feel a tiny bit better. We decided that we'd better catch up on rest tonight so that we can start fresh tomorrow. Tomorrow we're going to go and see him.  All we can do right now is look at him.  If we touch him or talk to him he begins to come out of this deep sleep that he needs for healing.  We don't want that.  We want him to heal.  We want him to come home all well.  For tonight, I'll just try not to think too deeply about how heavy this all is.  I'll just rest and pray for Dad while he rests.  I don't have any smart "just what I've always wanted" lines for this one.  God remains good.  We remain filled with hope.