Telling Stories

Hair Styling for the Style-Challenged {Or "come laugh at me"...}

Let me just start by saying if you've come looking for any kind of inspiration or actual content, perhaps you've come to the wrong place.

Sit tight. You'll see what I mean. 

I've been sporting short hair for quite awhile now, and recently have taken a shine to the wedge cut. 

As evidenced by this photo:

(Which is even too wedge-y for me...)

The truth is, I like not having to fuss with my hair, and this style makes me feel like I still did something with it. 

It's no secret that I really have no fashion sense. If I wear anything but my everyday jewelry I feel like I should win an award. I shop right off the mannequin. I pin things to "My Style" and giggle as I do, knowing there's just no way I'm going to know how to replicate most of what I see...

So when it comes to my hair, well, let's just say I'm really low maintenance. 

But see, I have this husband. 

And he couldn't care less about my hair (or his), my clothes (or his) or whether or not I even wear makeup. We're just not fussy people when it comes to our appearances. I do realize this isn't necessarily a good thing.  

So when he said to me, "Why don't you grow your hair out?" I think my response was... "Huh?" 

I haven't had long hair in years. And my hair is THICK, so letting it grow means getting through that terrible, awkward, bushy stage. After confirming Adam was serious (multiple times) I thought, "Well, who else do I want to impress? If he wants me to grow it out--even just to eliminate my wedge cut--I guess I should try." 

(For the record...I'm not usually this accommodating. I'm tremendously stubborn in pretty much every way. I'm working on it.) 

So, yesterday, we had to go to Sophia's fifth grade graduation...and I am already in "I have to cut this mop" mode...It's getting awful. I realized I need to learn to style it if I'm going to grow it out...so where do I turn? The internet. More specifically, Pinterest. 

More specifically, Kate's blog. 

Even more specifically, this post. 

And I decided to try a couple of things. I knew there was a good chance I'd end up having to wash/dry my hair all over again because there is so much room for error. I am a girl who can't even figure out how to put a bobby pin in my hair the correct way. 

My first attempt was a bouncy, curled under style. This might actually work for me. 

And I maybe should've stopped there. Because my next attempt was a curled with a curling iron style. 

Let's just say, my results were less than desirable. 

sorry for the bad iPhone photo. I had to take this to make fun of myself, thus the stupid giggle-smile on my face. 

To me, this style was not unlike a pirate's hat in shape:

I know you see the resemblance. 

There's really only one thing missing...

Am I right?

So, of course, after all of this, I had no desire to start over and I was thinking I should've quit with the bouncy, curled under style which seemed doable for someone of me, shall we say, style-inadequacy... so I kept playing with it. I watched the video again and eventually came up with this: 

I know. It still looks a little like I should have a parrot on my shoulder... (my sister told me so) and my mom's reaction was "I don't really know what to say about your hair. Do YOU like it like that?) 

Which made me laugh out loud. 

Truth is, I have NO idea how to assess it and clearly have limited styling skills, so my plan is to either cut it off or keep practicing. 

I'm going to make Kate proud, darnit. 

And I'm going to do something with it that elicits a response other than "I kind of like it and kind of not" from Ethan. 

For now, I'll leave you with my new signature "goodbye"...

Arrrrr, Matey. 

 

How Our Move is Hitting Home {hard}

It's hard to explain how a son can steal your heart unless you have a son that's stolen yours. 

bad iPhone photo. It is what it is.

The relationship between mother and son is unique and different and very special...at least around here. Ethan is my most sensitive child, but he's also my least verbal. At least when it comes to talking about his feelings. 

Oh, he loves a good rambling round of Twenty Questions (in which he asks approximately twenty questions on the same topic before moving on to a new topic and starting over...) because he's curious and intelligent and likes to dissect things. 

But ask him how he feels and he clams up. Cries. Struggles.

A few weeks before we really knew we were moving back, I started probing the kids. Ethan came with me to run an errand and when I wouldn't let him get something in the gumball machine he said, "You know Grammy would let me get it." 

Uh-huh. But I'm not Grammy. 

He sighed. "I know." (Read that with an extreme amount of disappointment. Because that's how he said it.)

I said, "You miss Grammy and Poppy?" 

He nodded. 

"What if we lived back by them, would that be a good thing?" 

He thought for a second and said, "You know, I never really wanted to move here in the first place." 

So I thought we were golden. It was the girl I was worried about. 

Then we explained to the kids that this was a very real possibility, and as I suspected, Sophia cried (she has this great little group of friends at school...) 

And Ethan said "Okay. Can I go play the Wii now?" 

But then a few days passed and Sophia remembered the good things about Illinois, including her friends there...

And CYT and the school she'd loved...

And Ethan still said nothing. 

Then I started getting emails from his teacher. Bad behavior. Wild. Talking out of turn. 

At first, my inclination was to punish him. No kid of mine was going to be the troublemaker. I don't care who his daddy is. 

But after a couple of days of emails like this, it dawned on me. For all of Ethan's "not caring," I knew that somehow, inside, he was having trouble processing this. In three years of school, he's had three different schools. And the one he loves is the one he's in at the time...which right now, is in Colorado. 

I sat Ethan down and told him I'd had another email from his teacher. We talked about his behavior, and then I dug my heels in and tore the band-aid off. "Is something upsetting you? Because usually you only act up when you're upset about something." 

It took a minute, but then he burst into tears and said "It's just hard that we might be moving back to Illinois." 

I said, "But I thought you were excited because you never wanted to come here in the first place?" 

And he said, "But then I started thinking about all the good friends I have here." 

And what could I say? Because I've thought about all the good friends I have here too. I've cried over the distance we're now putting between us and them...I've hated how flighty we seem to keep traipsing across the country. 

I've had dreams that we're doing the wrong thing mixed in with dreams we're doing exactly what we're supposed to...but more than anything, I've lost sleep worrying about these kids. 

I switched schools exactly twice in my life. Once in 2nd grade and once in 9th. It was traumatic both times. Kids are resiliant, yes, but how do you, as a parent, explain that this is the right decision for our whole family...not just for the grown-ups? 

How do you give them a chance to explore feelings they're much too young to have when really, you want to be wild and talk out of turn and throw your ball at your classmates just like they're doing? 

I know he'll be okay...but he's still processing right now...and so am I. My feelings are so mixed in spite of being so sure we're in the palm of His hand...

And I suppose that's normal...but that doesn't make it easy. 

I have no conclusion today. Just ramblings. Just questions. Just typical mom-worry...

And the hope that when all is said and done...we're going to be okay...

10 Ways To Build Self Esteem in a Child

I feel like a fairly passionate person. At least about some things. I think I'm passionate about theatre and movies and my family. But I'm also passionate about building self esteem in young people. Kids, pre-teens, teenagers. 

It's important to me to have that in my life. The opportunity to say to someone "You really are special" and not sound like a Veggie Tale. 

Perhaps the most important person I am saying that to right now is my daughter, Sophia. She really is special, but as she approaches the dreaded sixth grade year (my most challenging year as a child), I see her struggling with some of the same issues I struggled with. 

Self-doubt and insecurity. 

I'm sure there are moms out there with brilliantly well adjusted children who never question whether or not they're good enough/smart enough/pretty enough...but when those moms wake up from their delusions, I really don't want to be there. 

The truth is, no matter HOW much you build up a child, there's always more building to do. It may seem like you're not getting through or they aren't listening to you, but I promise you they are. And even if they don't get it the first twelve times, maybe thirteen is your lucky number.

It's too risky not to keep trying.

So, because I'm list-girl, I've got a collection of

10 things you can do to build self esteem in a child, regardless of their age.

I've found it works especially well to start the process early and not beat yourself up when you see they need another pep talk.

Remember, you're sending them out there in the world everyday where the positive reinforcement gets harder to hear.

1. Teach her to celebrate her differences. Explain that God made her for a unique purpose and just because she may not be the best person to have on your "Zombie Tag" team, she could be the best person to lead worship in chapel. If YOU celebrate her uniqueness, then she will too. 

2. As often as you can, tell her specifically what you love about her. I prefer to divide this into three areas: 

• A physical feature
• An intellectual feature
• A talent/skill or ability 

I've read that you should focus not on their physical appearance, but I think you have to include it. Let's face it, girls want to be told their pretty. That's just human nature. So tell her, specifically what about her is pretty...but back it up with what makes her pretty as a person. (She is kind. She is selfless. She is creative.)

3. Make HER tell you something she loves about herself in each category. When she gets down, a great way to build her back up is to guide her in the process of finding out what she loves about herself. She will feel like she's bragging. Explain to her that loving yourself isn't haughty as long as you stay humble. She needs to see the good inside her. 

4. Give her a visual representation. Print a photo of her like this one: 

Give her a Sharpie and let her highlight those things on her list. Hang it up somewhere for her to see it, like the bathroom mirror. Feel free to add the things you love too. 

5. Talk to her about your own insecurities. For a long time, I thought it was best to pretend, but I've found that pretending is just phony and no one likes a phony. Be honest with her, but be positive. For instance, I might say, "I always hated that I had these hips..." but I'd follow it up with "Thank God I had them when I gave birth to a baby that was 10 lbs., 2 oz." Sometimes the very things we hate about our bodies are the things that serve a purpose. 

6. Convince her to focus on what she can control. Sophia can get caught up in being the tall girl or the fact that certain clothes look better on her than others. She wants long, flowing curly locks. The sooner she can start accepting the things she has no control over, the better. It's taken me years to realize it really makes no sense to dwell on the fact that I have short legs. 

7. Determine if she's frustrated because she wants to learn something. Is she frustrated because she's not good at something she can learn--and wants to learn? For instance, if all of the girls in her class are learning to play volleyball and she really thinks it looks fun, but the two times she tried she hasn't done very well, how can you help her? Can you sign her up for a camp? Can you give her a fighting chance? Show her you're on her side. 

8. Make sure she sees the airbrushed pictures in magazines. Sophia is too young to read most of the magazines that are airbrushing actresses to look like plastic, but if she realizes now that the photos in those magazines aren't a true representation of real people, I think she'll walk into the next season with her eyes wide open, hopfully unwilling to compare herself to a fictitious representation. THIS LINK has some good examples of before and after pictures.

For example:

(Why can't we let Kelly Clarkson be Kelly Clarkson...super talented phenom?)

9. Talk about what makes her love someone. What things does she admire in her friends/teachers/family members? What does she want to be known for? Guide her so she focuses on kindness, skill, work ethic rather than the way someone looks. Then point out those things are all within her reach. 

10. Explain how God sees her. It's hard to grasp this concept. I can say that because I'm still trying... but if we despise ourselves, it means we despise God's creation. He's an amazing artist who knew just what he was doing when he made her. Show her verses that prove it. 

We love you, Sophia...

Being Present

When you're pregnant, it seems there's a ton of advice out there floating around, doesn't it? Also, everyone wants to touch/rub/speak to your belly. 

Being the non-touchy-feely person I am, this never went over very well with me. 

I used to say I wished they came with an instruction book...because when I brought Sophia home from the hospital, I sure didn't know what I was doing. 

This weekend, she turned eleven. And I thought about all the people who told me it would go in the blink of an eye. It's my least favorite thing that older people say. It makes me feel like no matter what I do, I'm going to miss out on something. 

I get it. It goes fast. But what good does it do to reiterate what we all already know? That she'll be independent before I know it? That I can't keep her from growing up? 

That one day, she won't be my baby...she'll be my friend. 

This weekend, time stopped...for her. And I'm so glad it did. We didn't work. We didn't write. We (Adam) didn't compose. We were fully engaged. Fully present. 

...and sometimes I think that's why time moves so quickly...because we're not really paying attention. It's like driving across town, reaching your destination and having little memory of how you got there. 

I realize it's fleeting...this is why I scrapbook. It's why I journal. It's why I keep this blog... so one day I can look back and remember the days that turned into months that turned into years... and I can smile on the other side of it. 

Smile to think of all the adventures she's had so far...New schools. New friends. Discovering she loves to lead worship. Discovering we have a love of theatre in common (it's important to find common ground, I think...) 

Discovering her own personal relationship with her Heavenly Father...and her sweet relationship with her earthly one. 

And how many more adventures she has ahead of her...eleven years feels long and makes me feel old...and yet, it's just a drop in the bucket. She has so much to explore. 

 

For now, my plan is to be more engaged. To look into her eyes more often. To realize that when she gets out of bed at night, she's not always stalling...sometimes this is the best time to talk to her. 

That when she asks if I want her to sing to me, it's often because she can sense I had a rotten day.
This is her way of cheering me up. 

That she is going to grow up, whether I like it or not...and so far, she's proven that she's going to do that in a beautiful way. 

That she needs to be independent. It's okay. I was too. 

That it's important to bring out her silly side...and often the best way to do that is to find mine. 

That when she has a revelation about God, I most certainly will stop and listen to it...often he uses her to teach me something I need to hear. 

That she is sweet in so many ways...

Happy Birthday to my amazing eleven-year-old beauty. 

It may go fast, but I'm going to tune in to every little moment...

The Quick Drive to Boulder

To say I needed a weekend of rest would be a tremendous understatement. I've started to see something about myself that I'm not sure how to change...I tend to internalize everyone else's stress (along with my own.) What's that about? 

So, if Adam is stressed, I take that on, make it mine. I give it a home and a place to set up shop. I've got to stop doing that. I have to learn that other people--even people I love--can handle their stresses. 

Awhile back, Adam went on a video shoot down in Boulder. They filmed a girl jumping out of an airplane. But what stuck with Adam wasn't the skydiving adventure so much as the drive home from Boulder... a drive that runs you parallel to the mountains.

And while it is really brown here right now, there's just nothing like the mountains on a beautiful day. And Saturday was perfect. We all hopped in the car and went for a drive...because we'd never been to Boulder before.

And because we needed to rest. relax. recharge. 

Boulder was different right off the bat. I knew it wasn't going to be a typical town when I saw these: 

They look like little sheds, but I'm pretty sure they were some kind of eco-homes. Tiny and all in a row. Naturally, I started wondering about the people who lived up there...how were their lives different from ours? 

Did they get out and recharge on the weekends? And why had it been so long since I'd allowed myself to do that?

We knew we wanted to make our way downtown to Pearl Street:

There's several blocks with brick sidewalks and beautiful shops and restaurants, and I knew instantly I'd never been anywhere quite like it. 

We were met by some interesting sights...Like a man sprinting down the block in a dress:

(I wondered if this was some sort of fraternity prank, but the dude didn't look like he was in college.) 

And this, which I feel is self explanatory:

We parked the car and started walking...and I loved that my kids got to see all the different artistic things going on downtown. All kinds of street musicians and performers, a creepy dude making balloon animals, a kid playing a mean violin...

This guy, whose instrument of choice was a didgeridoo...

And these two, who drew quite a crowd with their music...(I'm tempted to tell you these are xylophones, but as sure as I do someone will tell me they are some much more interesting instrument...anyone know??)

We also got to see some pretty amazing architecture and art. The entire downtown area looked liked something out of a movie. 

And while we didn't buy anything except lunch, and we didn't stay for hours and hours, the time away, unplugged, was exactly what we needed. It was like a mini-vacation right in the middle of the weekend. 

And once again, Adam and I were wondering "Why don't we do this more often?" 

I think they were wondering the same thing...

My First MRI...nothing glamorous about this at all...

I try not to be an alarmist. It's not in my nature to call an ambulance or rush to the hospital. It's more like me to google or WebMD my questions...and then make my own deductions. 

But sometimes even Dr. Courtney needs a second opinion. 

(And I hope you heard the sarcasm in that last sentence.) 

Friday was Dream Day. I'd planned to paint and journal and dream. I had everything set out. After I finished my blog, I was going to read my Bible and then spend the day doing things I hadn't done in months...but my day went quite a bit differently than I'd planned. 

But as I started the morning, I realized that the dull headache I'd woken up with had gotten worse. Like, quite a bit worse. But it was Dream Day, darn it. And I had stuff to do... starting with Ecclesiastes...where, incidentally, I found this verse: 

Ecc. 5:3: "For a dream comes through much activity..." 

It confirms some things Adam and I have been talking about a lot lately. The fact that God often moves when WE are moving. We take a step of faith, he intervenes. In our case, twice now, he's steered us in a different direction...but only AFTER we stepped out and said "I think this is what you want me to do...so that's what I'm doing..." Sometimes we're so afraid of making a wrong move, but over and again, God shows us that when we're seeking his will, he meets us there...he even helps us stay on course. 

Even when it's scary. 

Anyway, I jotted these verses down and then I realized I couldn't really see out of my right eye. Black spots along the edges. I tried to read the verse out loud and it made no sense. It was like I was struggling to figure out what words were and mis-reading them, and I could hear that it was wrong, but I couldn't get it right. At the same time, the pressure in my head worsened and I felt nauseous. 

I went and laid down and Adam called me on his way home to bring me some Excedrin...in those few minutes my right hand went completely numb. By this point, I was pretty scared. I know numbness isn't a good thing and I couldn't feel my finger tips or my hand. The sensation kind of passed through it but by the time Adam got home, the whole right side of my face went numb and I felt like I had a fat lip. 

I admit. I was terrified. 

Adam...calm, level-headed, sensible Adam...called an ambulance (and yes, I was protesting. I know how much an ambulance costs.) He shushed me and told the paramedic what was happening. They arrived literally a few minutes later.

Long story short, the thing that concerned the paramedic (Steve) was that my symptoms were all on the right side, but my pain was on the left side. He said we could go to the ER but recommended we come with them...because if we came with them, they could get blood right away and if I'd had a mini stroke (he called it something fancy) they'd know about it and there would be medicine for me. 

He also mentioned that this happened to Ellen DeGeneres when she was about my age, which made me feel, you know, cool somehow. 

Off we went, in the ambulance...then into the hospital where they wheeled me in and hooked me up to a  bunch of equipment. They monitored my heart rate and blood pressure and dumped a heated blanket on top of me which was the most comforting part of the whole day. A bit later, the doctor (and his Jeremy Renner looking sidekick) showed up and I considered asking them if working there was like being on Grey's Anatomy but they had their serious faces on so I refrained. 

He said "Well, the brain is a funny thing. I could've been a migraine but since you have no history of them, I want you to have an MRI to rule out tumors." 

Fabulous. 

Just saying the word out loud hit me with the fear of God. I mean, I'm the chick who regularly peruses WebMD to see if there are symptoms I didn't know were symptoms and decides on a consistent basis that I've got lupus or at least shingles. 

The MRI was oddly peaceful. I sat in there and prayed the entire thirty minutes, laying, as "Rick" instructed me, completely still. The heated blankets kept me mostly warm and I used that time to imagine my days...the way I spend them...the stress I'm under...the attention I don't pay to my health. In those thirty short minutes, I started to realize that old cliche...

Life is precious. 

And is this how I want to spend mine? 

It was supposed to be 30-45 minutes before we got the results so Adam ran to get my older kids from school, but while he was gone the doctor reappeared. I did not want results without Adam, but he didn't even wait to make eye contact before he said "Well, I'm so happy your scans are all clear..." 

And so was I. 

So happy. 

They think it was a complex migraine, but I have to follow up this week with a neurologist who I expect is going to use big words and not look anything like Derek Shepherd. 

I'm still not 100% over here, and I keep finding random stickers with plastic snaps on them stuck to my body, but I'm better...and I have a feeling that once I get quiet and process all of this I'm going to make some interesting discoveries...and some big changes. 

For now, I'm going to rest and pretend I've got nothing to do today but watch Cupcake Wars and drink ginger ale. 

I hope the next Dream Day I schedule doesn't land me in the hospital...

Suddenly my big girl is little again...

Sophia has always been a really smart kid. In third grade, she was reading at the 12th grade level. She rarely pronounced words wrong, memorized books, spoke in complete sentences. In many ways, the "little girl" wore off of her a long time ago. 

But lately, as she gets older and stretches her wings a little, something funny has happened. Her "big vocabulary" is getting all mixed up. And it's a mother's dream. That reminder that she's still a little kid... what could be better? 

At first I thought it was a fluke. We were getting dinner ready in the kitchen one night and something came up that required extreme teasing. Sometimes a girl just needs to be teased...and who are we to deny her that need? 

Finally, after a few minutes of this, Sophia  slams her hands on the counter and says, "Will you just GET OFF MY SHOULDERS ABOUT IT?" 

The trouble was, she was being funny BUT deadly serious in her choice of words. 

One time thing, right? It wouldn't happen again, so we adopted the phrase "get off my shoulders" as a household and moved on with our lives. 

Then, a couple weeks ago, she came to Adam with a question about two words. "So, what would be the forfeit of that word?" she asked, straight-faced. 

Adam stared at her for a minute and then finally realized she meant "What would be the replacement for that word?" Where she got forfeit, we still don't know. 

Finally, last night, we were playing Scrabble in preparation for Adam's tournament today. (Yes, I am serious.) I should also add that I hate this game. I'm horrible at it and feel like my game play is an insult to writers everywhere. Anyway, we were playing and Sophia tried to play the word "HIPE." She puts it down and immediately starts celebrating...

"YEAH! I'm awesome! Take that! In YO FACE!" 

Adam and I look at each other...

"Uh, that's not how you spell hype," Adam says. 

She deflates. "What?"

"It's H-Y-P-E." 

"It can't be spelled with an 'I'?"

Adam and I shake our heads. 

Sophia takes the tiles off the board. "Oh, yeah, fine, just go ahead and blow my thunder." 

Blow my thunder? 

I've yet to uncover where her mad cliche skills are coming from, but in the meantime, I'm writing them down and working them into straight-faced conversation with her. I can't tell you how much joy it brings me to hear her messing these things up. 

I wouldn't forfeit this little girl days for anything...so get off my shoulders about it. 

A Mature Talk About Boy-Parts & Girl-Parts

I want to post something meaningful today. I'm writing my third book in the Sweethaven series and I'm at a fairly poignant part. I love writing these parts, when the characters have those moments that make your heart lurch. 

But this post will not make your heart lurch. Because I live in a house with three boys (and only two girls.) And sometimes the blog fodder they provide is about as far away from poignant as you can get. 

My story starts with a boy:

A boy whose photo-smile is as fake as it is endearing. A boy who is, thankfully, still as innocent (pretty much) as the day he was born. 

...and a girl:

(who dressed up as a punk rocker for Halloween)...and who is a little bit more of a troublemaker than she lets on. 

Let me just set the scene for you. 

Adam and I were working on the Hercules script (for the musical we're writing for CYT Chicago) in the kitchen at my mom and dad's house when we heard Ethan, in his little boy voice shout at Sophia, "Hey! You just hit me in the NUTS!" 

I should also tell you that the phrase "nuts" is a new addition to his vocabulary. Sam calls it a "peek" (no idea) so whenever anyone talks about boy parts, that's pretty much what they're called. "Nuts" is a second grade word, one that he picked up at school.

And I giggle every time he says it. (What am I, twelve?) 

Adam and I stifled our laughs and called Sophia in the kitchen. Adam handled it brilliantly (and sensitively as being hit "there" had him cringing a little and feeling sorry for Ethan.) 

Adam: Sophia?! Don't do that--you can really hurt him if you chuck something at his nuts. 

I'm snickering again. 

Sopiha: But...

Adam: No, "but" nothing. How would you like it if he hit you in the vagina?

This is where I lose it. Since when do we use anatomical terms with our children? Doesn't he know it's called a po-po? (Again, no idea.) 

(I added a photo in case you'd started to doze...) 

So, Sophia goes back into the living room to continue their obnoxious playing in which people inadvertently get hit in their private parts...

Sophia: Did you hear what dad just said? (She's giggling. She really should be more mature when talking about girl-parts.) 

Ethan: Yeah. 

Sophia: What'd he say? (Clearly she wants to embarrass her brother) 

Ethan: He said if you hit me there again I get to hit YOU in you GIANT COWBOY. 

Well, howdy, pard'ner!

I don't even know what else to say. I can't even think about it without laughing for five minutes straight. What? Giant Cowboy? WHERE did that come from?

Last night, Sophia came to me with a serious question and she said, "Mom, can I talk to you about my...giant cowboy?" 

And I just lost it. Again. 

And then, I was half asleep when it popped in my head and I started laughing out loud and woke Adam who actually, in spite of sleep-delerium laughed right along with me. 

What is wrong with us? 

Regardless, I'm curious, do you use correct terminology when speaking to your children or do you cute-ify the words for their girl and boy parts? Inquiring minds want to know. 

*PS. I'm emailing the winners of the Jeanne Oliver E-Course today! Watch your inboxes!

My Month So Far in iPhone photos...

I have to catch my breath. The word "Whirlwind" seems to describe my December so far and I'm putting my foot down. I'm making a point to inhale the winter chill, to marvel at the lights, to feel the joy of my four-year-old as he tells me he wants to see Santa. 

I have one last giveaway before we pick the winners, but it's not quite ready yet, so I'm changing my own rules and posting it tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm sharing something I know you're all dying to see...my iPhone photos that document the past few weeks. 

Riveting, right?! I mean, where else can you see this...

Proof that I can screw up even the simplest of dishes. This Jello dessert did not make it to our Thanksgiving dinner and it's pretty clear why. What a mess. I have a feeling I won't be asked to write a cookbook anytime soon. 

Sophia, on the other hand, is taking mighty nicely to the kitchen...

...and baked Adam cookies one night after she saw how miserable my dessert turned out. 

We went to a craft show where my friend Jenn was selling goodies. I picked up a couple of these for Sophia...

She broke it the second time she wore it. 

Last year, we didn't put up a tree. It was dismal in our rental and we did nothing to help that. So, this year, the weekend after Thanksgiving, I nagged insisted we get festive...

And by "we" I mostly mean "Adam." 

I write by this in the evenings and it's the coziest thing ever. The third book in the Sweethaven series is a Christmas book, so I'm soaking up all the magic and pouring it onto my pages. 

We  started a new tradition this year of going to Target and choosing a new ornament. This was Adam's:

Those of you who know him will understand. He is often seen with a pencil behind his ear. It was fitting. I think I was wise to nag him about the tree...it's made a huge difference in my Christmas spirit. And we all know the spirit of the house comes from the mother. At least that's what I'm told when I'm in a really crabby mood. 

For a couple of days in a row after the tree went up, Sam stood in front of it, decked out in his jams and said "I just want to stand here." Remember how cool Christmas was when you were little?

I treated myself to a Clearance mug at Pier1 and have washed it every single day since so I can have my coffee in it. Suddenly my previous favorite mugs have lost their appeal. Why is that?

This photo is so telling of my days...I start each one right here with coffee and the computer...tackling the to-do list of my job and thanking God he hooked me up with Webster's Pages in the first place. 

Adam decided Sophia was old enough to watch "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Thinking back on it, I'm not so sure I shouldn't have intervened, but apparently she emerged unscathed and it was a nice way for the two of them to spend some quality time. (And suddenly she has a crush on Merry.) ha. 

Naturally, when she found these:

She wanted to buy them for Adam. I said a picture would suffice. 

I'm such an orc of a mom. 

Adam and Sophia recorded a song Sophia wrote. It's a praise and worship song. It's not done yet, but I've already asked if I can share it with you when it is. Because I really like it. And because I want to be one of those braggy moms who always talks about her kids all the time. I think I'm good at that. :) 

 

Then I threw my back out. That was fun. I was down for several days and still am not 100%. The good news was Sophia gave me a pedicure. My toes are now aqua. 

Are you jealous?

Last week we headed out to Ethan's Christmas program at school. He's a sheep. 

A sheep with glittery fingertips.

And then this weekend, we celebrated our anniversary:

Turns out we're kind of boring people who sort of relish our boredom. We had so much fun shopping, having dinner and reminiscing about all the anniversaries past...

And then deciding that the past couple of years have almost felt like a new beginning. 

And loving that. 

So tomorrow, the Big Christmas Giveaway is going live and you don't want to miss it! And I'll post winners of all my giveaways later on this week. I cannot WAIT to draw names! :) 

Thanks to everyone for playing along!

 

 

5 Ways to Fight the Christmas Overwhelm

The world wide web is filled with all kinds of glorious holiday goodness right now. 

It's the beginning of a new month and crafty bloggers (including me over at Webster's Pages) will be telling you all kinds of cool things you could be doing to make your home more holiday-laden. 

I love these blogs for the same reason I love Pinterest. Pure eye candy, plain and simple. 

But for whatever reason, I'm conditioned to perform. Not on a stage (not anymore) but there's this thing inside me that feels an incredible need to achieve. And at this time of year, that need gets kicked up into hyperactive overdrive. 

If you happen to be a novelist/working mom/stay-at-home mom/harried/tired/worked to the bone type of woman, pull up a chair and let's talk for a minute. 

Let's just be real. 

Girls. (And boys?) I'm overwhelmed. 

None of us can do it all. 

I was pretty pleased we got our tree up...this was a huge accomplishment over the weekend given the way I've been feeling lately. But then I started flying around the internet and realized that wow, I don't have anything else to offer. My crafting is for assignment purposes so I can't share it. I don't have the time to paint or even create handmade gifts right now. My writing is for deadline.

My creativity is all tapped, assigned to other places...like my job, my kids, my books. 

And as I click out of all these beautiful, gorgeous, jaw-dropping blogs, I think Gosh, I am not going to inspire anyone this holiday season.

And Wow, my house isn't Christmas-y at all yet...except for the tree...but that laundry basket full of unfolded clothes sort of ruins the effect.

And Let it be said that some people can't be trusted with Oreos in the house. At least not when they're Double Stuf. 

(It's all related somehow, I know it is.)

But here's the important thing. Here's what I"m trying to grasp...ways to fight this overwhelming feeling at Christmas...this need to compare and do and create and inspire...

And so far, this is what I've come up with:

1. Christmas will still be magical even if I don't make a single holiday craft. 

2. My house is still cozy even without detailed touches in every nook and cranny... if I concentrate on picking up, keeping things orderly and then focus on the people in the house, I'm going to come out on top. 

3. I can admire the homes and crafts of my friends and fellow bloggers without walking away feeling insecure about my own productivity. Or lack thereof. We all do what we can...and that's enough. It's enough.

4. I can support handmade artists and give handmade gifts without having to be the one to craft them. It's okay. I'll live to create again. 

5. The real nostalgia behind Christmas isn't wrapped up in home decor or holiday tutorials. I may not have a wealth of inspiration hidden in my back pocket to share with you on my blog...but I can still participate in Christmas. It doesn't banish me to the sidelines. 

Here's the deal. Do what you can. Enjoy your holidays. Don't let them scream on by while you take your harried, frazzled self to bed at 2 a.m. every night lamenting all you didn't do. 

It's Christmas. The only time of year you get to hear "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime" 100x a day! 

And if you're one of those crafty mamas who has creative things to share...share away! And know that those of us who can't will be admiring all of it...and taking notes for next year. 

Do what you can.

This year, instead of worrying about all I'm not doing...I'm going to make a point to focus on what I can do...to focus on what matters...

Jesus. Family. Tradition. Friends. The sights. The sounds. The smells. 

And I'm going to let the hard work and creativity of others fill up my tank. 

And that is perfectly magical. 

7 Things You Can Expect When Celebrating a Child's Birthday

Birthdays should always be a big deal, don't you think? 

I mean, you only get one every year, so it needs to be a big deal. But for some reason, when it comes to The Hobbit, it hasn't worked out that way. Perhaps it's because all his friends are named "Sam." 

Coincidence? Methinks not. 

Now that we've been doing this kid-birthday thing for almost eleven years (good lord, we're getting old)...I can say, I've learned a thing or two about The Birthday. 

Here are some tried and true things you can expect when preparing for your next kid-birthday:

1. No matter how posey he is for photos, if the Birthday Boy gets woken up at 6 a.m. by an altogether too-excited older brother, he's NOT going to be fun. 

2. Despite all attempts to buy only gifts you haven't told anyone else to buy, you will get doubles. Your newly four-year-old will handle this with grace and the maturity of a child three times his age. 

"WHAT?! I ALREADY HAVE THIS ONE!"

You'll watch in horror as the box goes flying across the room and the pout spreads across his face. 

"We're working on being thankful." 

Sometimes, you even get duplicate presents while the other person who bought the same gift is standing in the store with you. 

No, really. She was standing beside me while I paid. 

I call her Mom. 

3. Cupcakes are an ideal birthday treat. Everyone gets to pick their own kind...and they're preportioned so you can't eat all the corners and claim that you haven't really had a piece. 

Three of us had pumpkin with cream cheese frosting. 

Others had less tasty flavors. 

Still others simply played with the sandwich skewers and frosting, claiming to be "full"...as if he couldn't bear the thought of forcing down the frosting. I'm still wondering if something happened in the hospital and they gave me the wrong kid. 

Just kidding. 

This one is all mine. 

4. When your husband gets a hold of the camera, you can almost always expect embarrassing shots to pop up that you weren't even aware he was taking. And some that he force-posed you for that turned out ridiculous. 

Feel free to blame him completely. Surely it's his poor photography skills that made you look like a pasty white snowman with straw for hair. 

Perhaps that assessment was too flattering. 

5. Big brother love birthdays. It means they can begin concocting manipulative plans to unarm the birthday child of his new booty. And by "booty", of course I'm speaking as a pirate. 

And not insinuating he wants to steal Sam's butt.

After this weekend, I've nicknamed Ethan "The Hoverer..." because boy, did he ever. I handled it quite well, hollering from the other side of the room "Dude, Ethan, would you let him open them himself?" 

To which Adam responded by pulling Ethan aside and apologizing for the mental state of his frazzled mother:

6. No matter how few people are there...no matter how small the celebration...a four-year-old is happy surrounded by his family and a pile of presents. 

7. Suddenly, as you're tucking your four-year-old baby into bed, it will hit you that he's really, really grown up. 

...and you fight back the desire to get all weepy over it. The fact that you don't really have a baby anymore. You have a little kid. A little kid who is rapidly becoming a big kid. And while he's been your hardest child so far, he's secured a special place in your heart. 

And that's kind of awesome. Just like him. 

Happy Birthday, Samster.

This is My Red Balloon...

Last night, I found myself again, pensive in the wake of another busy day. Things had quieted and the distraction of real life calmed, leaving me to think about today...and what the rest of my family will be doing around 10 a.m. 

Last Thursday, my cousin's little boy passed away. His funeral is this morning, and I'm told that as the funeral procession crosses the bridge in our little hometown, people will gather and release red balloons in his honor. You can read about that story, and Colton's story HERE. 

It's times like this I wish Colorado wasn't so far away from home. 

I have an uncanny ability to detach myself from emotion. When I was studying theatre, I learned how to conjure up emotions to create a character. We'd stand in front of the class and talk about a time we felt rejected...recounting each and every detail under we went "under" so to speak. I do it now, to an extent, as a writer... but in my daily life, I cut myself off. 

But this? This one keeps creeping in. 

Around Christmas time last year, Colton was admitted to the hospital. We were home and actually had just seen him a few days earlier, so we went to the hospital. It's there we began to see the pieces of the story fall together as we stood praying over his limp body. Something had gone terribly wrong. 

And regardless of how close to the situation you are...or how close you are to all the people this directly affects, the pain of it all is palpable. Because the sad fact of the matter is, this didn't have to happen. Someone else decided to mistreat him...someone who was supposed to protect him. 

Instead, she chose to do the exact opposite.

In my life, I've known adults who were abused as children. I've seen the horror played out in the strangest ways, as they try to compensate for what's been done to them, to make sense of a world that betrayed them in such a sad way. In our ministry, I watched our kids like a hawk for any sign that something was amiss. 

But the truth is, you can't always see those kinds of things simply by grazing across the surface. Things like that root themselves in deep and find a way to stay hidden. 

It's like that with evil, isn't it? 

I read in the news yesterday about a pair of teachers who were caught on a recording bullying a special needs student in their class. Later in the day, I saw where a ten-year-old girl hanged herself because she was being made fun of. Another story ran across the screen about a 13-year old who'd been coerced into sending a video of herself taking her clothes off to a boy who said he wouldn't like her anymore if she didn't. 

He then sent the video to everyone in his contact list. 

Who is protecting our children? 

Sometimes, I think we, as parents, try to let our kids figure things out for themselves, almost to a fault. It's important that they do, right? They need to learn how the world works. We hear critics of homeschooling say that those children don't have  a grasp on the way of the world...but I say, do we really want them to?

We stay a little "hands-off" because we're afraid of being that mom. But sometimes, we have to step in and protect them. We have to be the annoying one that says "Look, this happened to my kid and it's not okay with me." 

And more than that, we have to teach our kids that it's okay to tell someone else what is and isn't okay with them. We can't let them sacrifice their own health and well-being for the sake of what someone else. Not like that. 

Today, Ethan came home from school with a story about a boy in his class who's been "bullying" him. I don't know that Ethan knows what that really means, but as he described some of the things going on, his voice stayed steady...and then he got to the part where he said "He told me that if I didn't do that, he wouldn't be my friend anymore." 

His voice shook and his face contorted as that thought registered in his eight-year-old mind...the horror of having that one boy not accept him as a friend was enough to tie his stomach in knots. 

It broke my heart a little. 

I've decided that when it comes to my children, I will err on the side of protecting them at the risk of making myself seem neurotic. I will, like a mama lion, fiercely stand guard around the hearts of the children God has put in my care. 

I can't turn a blind eye. I can't keep quiet. Because these children trust me. Because I"m their mother. 

Protect your children.  Be vigilant and fierce. Be demanding on their behalf. Get in their business. Show them you'll defend them. And if you start to lose it...if you get the urge to kick your child in the chest...get help. 

I don't care what anyone says...they deserve to stay in a bubble for as long as they possibly can. 

Rest in peace, Superman. 

I thank God you are walking, talking, laughing and smiling...sitting on the lap of Jesus. The things you've taught us won't soon be forgotten. 

Please pray for Colton's family today. All of us, near and far, are shocked and saddened by this loss. 

Top Five Reasons to Date Your Spouse

The other night, Adam and I had the chance to go on a much-needed night out without children. Otherwise known as a date. Complete with dinner, a movie and a darn awesome babysitter. It was heavenly. 

(I have the cutest husband.) 

 We were seated at a booth in the bar and after about ten minutes, another couple was seated behind us. Let's just say they were...ahem...very affectionate. I'm all for affection, but at the table of a restaurant? 

It started me thinking, which is always dangerous, about how typically, married folks (I just said folks...I think I just aged myself 15 years) don't publicly grope each other. We may not even hold hands. We're so comfortable with each other that it's second nature to settle into that laid back, nonchalant relationship we've grown to love like the soft, fraying quilt hanging over the arm of the couch. 

While you're not likely to find me participating in heavy petting at a restaurant (especially at a tall table...these two were talented...) perhaps there's something to be said for dating your spouse. So I've made a list. 

The Top Five Reasons to Date Your Spouse. 

I know you've already got your pen and paper out. Ann Landers has nothing on me in the advice-giving department. 

Ann Landers? 

But truly... if you think of your marriage like something precious you can hold in your hand, it needs a little care...some spit-shine...every now and then. Here's why it's good to make a point to date your (hot) spouse.

Reason #1: You're more than Roommates.

It's so easy to fall into this weird disjointed roommate type of relationship when you're married. You harp on his inability to put the lid back on the peanut better. He throws the pile of clothes you've oh-so-neatly (translation: not neatly at all) draped (translation: thrown) over the end of the bed into a heap on the floor. 

This is part of living together, but it's not the fun part. Getting out and reconnecting. That's the good stuff. Just make a rule that you can't talk about housework on your date. (One of you is bound to fall asleep...or worse, dart out the bathroom window ala "bad-blind-date" from your single days.) 

Reason #2: Routine is a killer.

It's so easy to fall into a routine...every night looks the same:

• He gtes home, recharges alone for 20 minutes while I try to keep the kids occupied. 
• I  throw together some weird concoction of a dinner. 
• Everyone eats. 
• We shuffle the kids through their bedtime routine. 
• We trade off chores for the next day like two old people playing gin. 
• We sit on the couch and watch TV. 
• The end.

I don't have to tell you, this isn't great for a marriage. Mix it up! Get out of the house (I'm preaching to myself). Let someone else cook for you and break that routine. Routine is a GREAT marriage killer. Fer reals.

Reason #3: It reminds you why you love each other. 

We may not be the couple at the tall table, but sitting in a booth across from Adam, listening to what's on his mind and then sharing what's on mine...I remember all the things I love about this man. When he comes out of the bathroom and says "I really don't feel 36." I realize I don't feel 35. Maybe because we just had a date that took us back ten years? 

Reason #4: It gives you a chance to trade in your "Mom Jeans"...

Please don't tell me you're really wearing mom jeans. If you are, friend. Let's talk. 

Just kidding. I'm not criticizing considering that I rarely wear anything but yoga pants. And therein lies the problem. I recently asked Adam if he would still love me if I just "let myself go..." something worth asking considering the amount of Halloween candy I've consumed this week. 

And the fact that I'm not wearing make-up nearly as often. 

Or pants with a waistband. 

The truth is, sometimes it's okay to not be a mom. To let your husband see you as a woman. Paint it up a little, ladies. Let your inner hottie out. 

Reason #5: Children suck the life out of you.

Often, our conversations go like this. 

Adam: So, I was walking up the stairs when...

Ethan: Hey, dad, do you want to see what I built?

Adam: In a minute, Ethan, I'm talking to Mommy. (back to me) So, I was walking up the stairs...

Ethan: But it's really cool, Dad. You have to come see...

Adam: Right, I will. But let me finish talking to Mommy first. (back to me) So, I was walking up the stairs...

Ethan starts bouncing and flailing his arm, motioning in the direction of his room...where "what he built" is waiting. 

Adam: Ethan, really? (Ethan walks away in a huff. Adam takes a breath and turns back to me.) Anyway, as I was saying...

Sam (full on, ready to play): Daddy! You can't get me!

It's at this point we both get up and go away. We'll talk about it later. A date ensures that the only one interrupting you will be your waiter...and that's only because he wants to do things for you, so it's a complete 180. 

It doesn't have to be fancy (though that would be fun) or expensive (we often opt for "couch dates" where we're employing the same tactics only in the comfort of our elastic waistbanded pants), but a date every now and then will sprinkle some life back into your marriage. 

And we could all use a little life-sprinkling now and then, don't you think? 

So tell me...when was the last time you dated your spouse? How do you keep your marriage from getting as stale as the month-old crackers in my cupboard?

For Moms Who Want to Feel Really Good About Themselves...

Oh, friends. What a weekend. I'm in crunch-time for several projects I'm working on and yes, that means the house is starting to fall apart again. It's in these moments I almost back a dumpster to the garage and start chucking stuff into it. 

I'm just ready to part with the clutter. 

And the less I have to clean, the better. 

(I try to look sporty when I leave the house so people will think I'm athletic. Never mind that I slept in those pants.) 

I didn't really. 

Promise.

The good news is that slowly but surely, I'm crossing things off my list. Which makes me wonder if everyone lives with their to-do list on a  pedestal. And if so, do they also leave things off of their list like "Buy Halloween Costume?" 

Because I sure do. Thus, explaining our 8 p.m. trip to that god-awful Spirit Halloween store last night where I soon discovered that everything on the "Tween" wall should've been on the "Trollup" wall...and how do you explain to your 10 year old that you don't want her looking "slutty"? 

At any rate, she's going to be a punk rocker. Not to be confused with a "Punkin' Rocker" which is what was my suggested. That got me a lovely eye roll, but I still think it's darn clever.

Since I'm short on brain cells, I'm posting this fine evening all the Facebook statuses I wanted to post this past week but didn't. I love a good list almost as much as I love when Sophia's underwear accidentally gets put in my pile. 

There's nothing that boosts the self esteem quite  like trying to squeeze into a ten-year-old's panties.

TMI?

Before I get myself into real trouble, here's my list. In no particular order...

10. I wish the mailman would post a note on the outside of my box: "Don't get too excited, there's nothing in here but junk." 

9. Everytime I talk on my phone, I gross myself out with the residue my cheek leaves on it. (Does this happen to everyone else? My skin isn't even oily, and most days I don't wear makeup so...what is that??? ew.) 

8. I love that Sophia's after school snack of choice is a salad. 

7. I love my agent. 

Everytime I talk to her, I want to post this on my Facebook. I am the luckiest girl in the world. And I get to see her this weekend, which is a real treat given that normally I only get to see her once a year! 

6. I secretly love mac & cheese. Not the kind Paula Deen makes either. The kind you get from a box. One bite makes me sick for the rest of the night, but if I could get rid of my dairy allergy for a day, I'd totally kill some Kraft M&C. 

5. I talk to Adam more when he's out of town than I do when he's here. 

Oddly, our frequent conversations made me think that he was pining away for me while he was in Chicago a couple of weeks ago.

Really he was doing this:

4. I just noticed a toothpaste stain on my shirt, so I tipped my drinking water bottle over on it to avoid having to change. Does this make me resourceful or just lazy? 

3. The cover of my book is almost finished. I can't WAIT to show you. It releases February 1st and yes, I'm ridiculously excited. :) 

2. I want this shirt. I wish it came in a size other than a 5T:

1. There are just no words for this:

Sam. Oh, Sam. 

As a sidenote: I just this second remembered while we were at a church event on Friday night, Sam got chocolate on that shirt that I haven't yet washed. The same one he has to wear in an hour to go trick-or-treating. 

Mother of the year. 

When he's an artist and not an athlete...

We had parent/teacher conferences last week. I never know what to expect because at home, sometimes my kids make me nuts. Like, roll into a ball and rock back and forth nuts. 

I see all the good...and all the bad. 

So it's always a bit of a crapshoot going in there. 

Especially with this guy...

I know. He looks sweet and innocent, doesn't he? We had our family pictures taken this past Sunday and I was fully prepared for the Sam-meltdown...but Ethan was the one that gave us the most trouble. Funny how that happens. 

Also, he's started doing this twitchy thing with his face. I caught it in this picture:

But you can't get the full effect. Not that I have anything against weird twitchiness, I'm just imagining him getting made fun of and that worries me. But don't worry, I've been really compassionate about it. I think the last thing I said to him "Will you STOP doing that weird twitchy face thing?" 

To which he responded "MY NOSE ITCHES" 

To which I said, "THEN USE YOUR HAND!"

I suffer from an innate loss of sympathy. 

Anyway, Ethan's teacher is this cute, adorable, sweet girl (and she really is a girl. I am getting OLD, friends.) and she had so many great things to say about my son. It made me so happy. Especially when she said "Ethan is really a leader. The kids just want to be around him."

I knew Sophia had leadership qualities, but I was a little surprised to hear this about Ethan. I was also kind of...okay REALLY excited...when she said "He is an amazing writer." That one I'm holding onto. I remind myself of it every time he gets twitchy or doesn't listen or does that high-pitched whine that really makes him sound like a wounded animal. 

So far, it's helping. 

I always expected to have a son that loved football. And cars. And hated school. (I don't know why--Adam and I both loved school.) I didn't expect to have one who spends his free time making these:

In 3-D:

Or making cards for his friends...

in 3D:

Or writing books...

But I am so happy this is the kid God gave me. 

In our society, it's tempting to discourage kids from exploring their creative side. It's easy to assume boys will love sports and cars and boy things...but the world needs creative thinkers. People to plan and build and write and draw. 

I welcome this side of my boy, twitchy face and all. 

I think he's going to do amazing things...

She Holds His Hand

 Sometimes through my lens I catch something beautiful. 

A look. A smile. A relationship. 

She's growing up. It doesn't scare me. I'm excited for her. 

But I'm sad. Because what if one day she doesn't fall into step beside him...what if she thinks his wisdom is outdated and runs instead to the arms of another boy? 

What if she doesn't go on for a year and five minutes about what happened at school that day or she forgets to give us every. single. detail. and then tell us again an hour later?

When the day comes that she no longer tells us everything, where will I be sitting? What will I be doing? How will I let her go? 

The other day I looked at her and thought, "Wow, she's tall..." and in a split second I was holding her again for the first time, trying to figure out how to be a mom, certain I was going to fail. Sure I didn't have what it takes. 

Recounting all my faults and all the ways I'm not good enough. All the ways I'm not like my own mom...who is brilliant at this job...

And now she's a decade old and I'm a decade older and she still talks to me and she still worships him...

What happens the day that she doesn't? 

What will I say to her then? What would you say to me then? 

I'm not ready.

The Look of Love

How much of these days will you remember? 

How much of these days will I remember? They pass by speed-of-light style. One glance in the wrong direction and they're gone. 

But sometimes I stop. And sit. And see.

Which is what you do a lot of the time. You stop. You sit. You see. 

I could learn a lot from you. 

Your busyness is all about play. It's fun. I wonder, will you remember me as the mom who didn't know how to have fun?

When you think back on these moments, will you feel the love I've tried to give you, though maybe not in the way all mothers do. 

I am not goofy. Or often playful. I am routinely rigid and sometimes boring. 

But my heart fills when I look at you. That feeling writers try to capture but no one ever quite has. 

Like your insides are swollen and the pulsing of your lifeline pounds in your chest, between your ears, in your veins...

and you realize in that moment what you have is something you never want to lose. 

It ups the stakes, really. 

It scares me sometimes how much I love you and how hard it is to take the time to make sure you know. Do you feel it? In my hugs? In my smiles? In my sitting with you in the quiet to watch the train go by?

What will you remember of these days, I wonder? 

Doubtful that it will be my bad posture or my penchant for not wearing makeup. 

I hope it's the things I intend for you to remember. I hope it's maybe indescribable. Like the writers, you can't find the words...

...but deep down, you know you were well loved.

Facebook Statuses I *Almost* Posted

Because I'm trying to limit my time on Facebook and because I don't want to overwhelm my Facebook friends with random, senseless drivel, I've compiled a list of Facebook statuses that didn't "make the cut..." 

10. Well, there goes my four pound weight loss. 

That would be posted with a photo of these: 

My drug of choice. They're also responsible for my recent break-out. You'd think I'd learn. 

9. Please pray. My daughter was last seen riding her bike around the neighborhood and she hasn't checked in for an hour. She usually checks in every 15 minutes. 

...which would've led to the following status update: 

8. Sophia is grounded. For life.

Because that's what happens when you find your child on the opposite side of the subdivision along a busy road where she knows she's not supposed to be...

7. I love when my kids come home with homework for ME. Makes my day...my latest assignment? Duck tape fashions for spirit week. 

She made herself a bracelet and covered her earrings.

I got to school this morning and realized perhaps I really am an overachiever. The kid in front of us had a big silver "X" taped to his back. 

The best part was trying to get Ethan's over his head. I had to remove all tape from the back of the shirt and cut off the collar altogether.

I realize he looks miserable here, but that's because he didn't feel good this morning...I promise he loves his shirt. 

Swear.

6. Every time I see the word "debuted" I think it's spelled wrong. 

5. Some days I think my fingers are long and elegant looking. I've actually caught myself staring at them (and my wrist) in the mirror thinking "ooh, fancy"... And then I see a photo of them and the only thing I can think is "oh, stubby."

(I think the cut on my index finger is an especially nice touch.)

4. They say every ONE blog comment is the equivalent of 100 readers. Let's just go ahead and let you believe that. 

3. Proud of my husband who is part of the core team putting on Group's Kidmin conference this weekend in Chicago. He's not even nervous about being on that big stage...so why is my stomach in knots?

2. Is it wrong that the main reason I wanted to cut Sophia's hair was so I didn't have to do that blasted ballet bun anymore?

1. Insert passive aggressive status here. 

C'mon. Like you don't know what I'm talking about. One of my least favorite things people do on Facebook and I'm sure I've come awfully close myself. I've adopted a new philosophy as of about a year ago...

This is one time when I don't mind being called an elephant. 

 

Things I'm Really Good At

(An exercise in building one's self esteem.)

It's important, I think, for a work-at-home mom to reflect on all the many talents she has. It helps those banging-the-head-into-the-wall days seem much more bearable. 

I recommend everyone create a list just like mine. You're bound to uncover talents you never knew you had. 

So, now...a list...of the top ten things I'm really, really good at.

10. Laundry. My forte, really. 

'Nary a day goes by I don't at least think about doing it. 

9. Effectively executing my healthy eating plans for the family...even when I'm on deadline.

And let's not forget the importance of healthy drink.

8. Consistently maintaining an empty lint trap. I'm a real stickler for this one.

(and no, I did not attempt to turn that handful of lint into a craft project thankyouverymuch.)

7. Obeying the law by refusing to allow my three-year-old to operate a motorized vehicle.

 

6. Maintaining neat and tidy living quarters by promptly returning folded laundry to its home inside the dresser. 

I know. It's a gift. 

5. Unpacking my suitcase in a timely fashion. 

(It's only been six days...)

4. Keeping a mental tally of our food inventory so as to not waste money on things we already have.

3. Changing the toilet paper roll as soon as it's empty.

(I swear I didn't chuck a roll of paper towels at my daughter earlier tonight telling her in my best Tim Gunn voice to "Make it Work...")

2. Sweeping. I'm great at sweeping.

(...and that's about where it stops. That pile could be there for weeks, who knows?)

And the number ONE thing I'm great at: 

1. Knowing when it's inappropriate to take photos of my children. 

Like when they're in the middle of a tantrum. 

I'm really, really good at that. 

How about you? What are you really good at?

Midnight Ramblings...

It's nearly midnight and I can't seem to quiet the thoughts. Bombardment of things to latch onto, things to remember. 

How do we keep from forgetting--from letting someone down? For years I refused to say the words "I forgot." As if it wasn't allowed. As if it wasn't okay. 

As if grace was meant for other people--people who didn't forget. 

At this moment, my house is nearly quiet. The hum of the fan pulls my attention, and I know in each of the bedrooms are people I love. Sophia, looking like a princess, a hazy cast over her olive skin. Ethan, burrowed under covers in a room black as pitch. And Sam, on the edge of his bed with his head at the foot-end. 

I wonder what they dream about. 

Me, I anticipate crawling into my own warm space--warm because my husband sleeps on both sides of the bed when he retires early. 

And I try to reel in the thoughts like a fish on a line, but they fight and protest. 

This precious time--these few moments of coherence when my world stills and I can hear the thoughts--it almost overwhelms me. All day long, I bury them...there isn't time to entertain it all. But now? Now that I'm hear with nothing but the blue light of the laptop to keep me company, I'm not sure where to start. 

I pray for God-ideas, but I wonder if they come, will I be in a place to receive them? 

Does he meet me in my weakness? 

Will he walk on by because he knows I've got other things to do? 

Rambly thoughts tonight, at nearly midnight. 

I hope I can make him proud...

Working From Home

I start my day with Legos.

On the floor. Sucked up into the vacuum. Lined up waiting to get into a little Lego door on my messy kitchen table.

They keep me company while everyone else is away. 

I work from home--and now my hours are the same each day. Inquiring minds want to know what this means for Sam. Inquiring minds meaning my mom, who has decided he must be neglected given my schedule. 

He's not. Well, unless you count the fact that we both wear pajamas almost all day.

We change right before we leave the house to pick up the kids from school. 

I can't think of anything that makes me as happy as an elastic waistband. 

This kid is always right beside me. Playing, drawing, painting, singing.

It's especially fun on the rare occasion I have to make a phone call. 

Are you raising chickens in your living room, what is that noise? 

That'd be my son. 

Hm. Sounds like a chicken. 

It's a gift.

Big imagination this kid. And I'm happy to report he hasn't played a video game since the other two went back to school. I'm starting to think his older brother is a bad influence on him. 

I love having him home with me. He's so good. And funny. And even though if I find one more Lego Ninja in my bed I'm going to hurl something heavy out the window, I am feeling really lucky I get to hang out with him all day. 

We're pretty happy together. 

Chicken noises and all.

 

Quick & Easy Mario Birthday Treats

I know a lot of people make fun of scrapbooking. C'mon, you know who you are. (I'm mostly talking to my husband here.) But I cannot tell you the number of times my scrapbooking skills and supplies have come in handy around here. 

I am a paper nerd and a borderline hoarder, so I have LOTS of stuff waiting to find its new home in this new house of ours! Lucky thing too because Ethan was set on having Mario cupcakes for his birthday. And who am I to break the kid's heart?

First he wante chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting and chocolate chips sprinkled on the top. All I was picturing was a poo-cake because let's face it, that's what it would look like. 

Thankfully, I still have veto power. 

I found the Mario images online, lined them up in Photoshop and printed them off. Worked like a charm. They were perfect! All you have to do is put a toothpick between the Mario and a black mat and you're good to go. 

 Oh, and do I need to point out that I'm not a whiz when it comes to cake decorating? This is seriously going to be my next new hobby. I want to learn. I want to be on Cupcake Wars.

In spite of my lack 'o talent, the cupcakes still turned out super cute. I credit Mario with that. And my friend Liz because when I was asking on Facebook where I could get Mario stickers she called me and said "uh, why don't you just print them out?" 

Duh. 

The other great idea from my Facebook friend and scrapbooker extraordinaire, Kelly Noel...Mario mustaches! On sticks! I found a template online and Adam cut them out for me. (Give me a break here, it was like, 10 p.m. when I started this project!)

He helped me assemble them too...and Ethan LOVED them...

We made a bouquet and took one for each kid in his class. I probably should've waited because the kids were so busy playing with their mustaches they weren't paying attention. I felt bad, but they were super cute! 

Just like Ethan's sweet teacher...

They sang happy birthday and Ethan got to pass out the treats...it was so fun to be there and see how sweet the kids in his class are. 

Then, they all have to wait for Ethan to take the first bite...which he did with gusto.

I sat back and watched the kids eat the near-melted cupcakes (it was hot that day--I was a little worried they were going to turn to mush...) and they all became Marios with their mustaches.

I sort of hate that Ethan's birthday is right at the beginning of the school year--at least the last two years when there hasn't been enough time to make new friends...but it didn't seem to matter this time. We really had a great weekend celebrating our little Mario.

Who, incidentally isn't so little anymore. 

For more information on some of the products I used, check out my post today on the Scrapbook Adhesives blog!

P.S. I'm thinking about categorizing this post under "Natural Health." Fitting, right?

Maggie Goes On a Diet

This morning Adam told me about a new children's book he read about called Maggie Goes on a Diet. In my opinion, the book should have a subtitle: Maggie Goes on a Diet...and then spends the rest of her life in therapy.

The book is self published, which makes sense because I can't see any sane editor allowing this book to be printed. I spent the morning reading articles about it, and all I can say it...

What in the world is this guy thinking? 

The book is targeted at children as young as 4, written in rhyme like a typical children's picture book and sends the message that if you're not thin, you aren't popular. And if you aren't popular, well, then something is wrong with you.

It starts with Maggie, an overweight fourteen-year-old, getting teased and bullied because of her weight. 

And of course, Maggie turns to food to comfort herself. Notice the two-fisted binge in the dark in front of the open refrigerator?

I understand that this is actually fairly realistic. Kids (and adults) do turn to food when they need comfort, but I think the book's author, Paul M. Kramer, is sending the wrong message. 

He's telling little (little) girls not that they should "eat healthy and exercise" as he claims...but that if they aren't thin and beautiful, no one will like them. 

Tired of being teased, Maggie starts her diet. She dreams of skinnier jeans...

...it's that image of the jeans that keeps her going. (Tell me, does this image send the message that Maggie just wants to be healthy? Or is this about her looks? About wearing a smaller size?) 

And what do you know? Maggie discovers that she's a talented soccer player. In fact, she becomes the star of the team...and that makes her popular. (I'm curious if Maggie has had soccer training up until this point or did she just magically "catch up" with all the kids who've been doing this since they were four?)

Kramer says his goal was to encourage kids to eat healthy and exercise, after all, obesity in America is an epidemic. 

And he's right. Obesity certainly is a problem in America. But if I didn't know better, I'd think the author wanted to poke fun at the overweight kids himself. 

I was an overweight kid. I was teased for it. I know kids can be mean, and guess what? I went on a diet. That diet looked a lot like anorexia. If kids are taught at the ripe old age of four that if they go through puberty and develop a little differently than their peers--if they put on a few extra pounds through the middle as they grow, that they aren't good enough...how does Mr. Kramer think that's going to turn out? 

Here's a hint:

(I'll just point out that the girl in the mirror looks wonderfully healthy to me.)

I believe we have to educate our kids on being healthy, on eating healthy and exercising--but not so they can achieve "popularity and fame." Healthy is a somewhat all-encompassing term that includes mental health, and sending the message that Maggie is worthless when she's overweight is a great way to turn anorexia and bulimia into an even bigger problem than childhood obesity. 

Mr. Kramer claims he's amazed at the public outrage over his book, and he's probably hoping this turns into dollar signs when its released in October, but as a mom of a ten-year-old who grew up striving to fit a certain mold, who did whatever it took to become thin and popular including making myself throw up after every meal, I can honestly say this book deserves the public outrage.

If Kramer were smart, he would've consulted with professionals, learned how to send a positive message to encourage kids to love themselves--even if they're a few pounds overweight--and wrote a story about self acceptance on the path to total health. Instead, he's chosen to write a book that, in its own way, bullies girls into believing lies--that unless they do something about their chunky middles they will never be good enough, popular enough and gosh darn it, no one will like them. 

You tell me, does a book like this deserve a place on your child's bookshelf?

If so, you can start saving now for the years of therapy to undo its damage. 

 

The Worst Mom Ever?

So, Wednesday was a hard day. One of those parenting days when I stop and think "I totally suck at this parenting stuff." And that kind of guilt never does a body good. 

First, I got pulled over on my way to the school. I won't give you my explanation, I'll just say that apparently I was following a motorcycle too closely. Said motorcycle, like so many other Colorado drivers, decided to drop his speed by about 10mph without warning, so forgive me if it took me a moment to back up. 

I think he dropped his speed because he, unlike me, realized the guy next to him was a cop. In a car that did not look like a squad car. Something totally unfair about that. 

Anyway, if I've learned anything about Colorado drivers, it's that they. drive. slow. Like, under the speed limit slow. In Illinois, we were all busy and hurried (not good) but out here, everyone is all about taking their time. 

So, I pick up the kids and we head over to Sonic for Happy Hour slushes. It's become something of a tradition. And that's about the time Sophia remembers she has dance. And also about the time I'm presented with a whiny list of why she can't go. 

Basically, they moved her up to a higher jazz class and she thinks it's too hard. 

And I'm faced with a decision. I could avoid this new Wednesday afternoon tradition by letting her opt out of dance, but we already paid for it and darnit, it's good for her. So, I explain this. She cries. The whole hour before dance is pitiful. Adam comes home and tries to reason with her. Finally, she's calmed down, and I think, accepting of the fact that she has to go. 

Then we park the car outside the studio. 

And the tears come. 

And the excuses which could also be dubbed "manipulation." Because, let's face it, a lot of what she's saying she's saying because she knows I'll take pity on her. And friends, sometimes this girl plays me. Successfully. 

I glance at the clock and we've got about three minutes to get in, get shoes changed and redo the hair that's fallen out on the five minute drive to the studio. 

Inside, she changes her shoes and then bursts into tears. Loud ones. The kind that I can't even have sympathy for because I'm filled with the kind of anger that makes me want to breathe into a paper bag. 

And I pull her aside, away from the curious children and their parents who shoot looks in our direction that I can't quite decipher. Are they feeling sorry for me or Sophia? Do they think I'm a horrible mom for enrolling my (extremely gifted on stage) daughter in dance? They're all watching me to see how I'm going to handle this. And I tell her calmly and firmly "You are going to class." 

She cries. 

After a few inconsolable minutes, I call Adam. "Help!?" 

He talks to her. 

She wails. 

Wails. Like a toddler.

Finally, I said, "It's time to go in." (I should also mention I was going to be late for my eye doctor's appointment.) And I basically had to wipe her face and shove her through the door. 

After a most frustrating eye doctor's appointment, I returned two hours later and apologized to the poor girl at the counter who had to witness the whole thing. She said "Oh, I saw her when I took attendance and she had a huge smile on her face. In between her classes she said Jazz is her favorite." 

HUH?

So all that drama for nothing? We came home and Adam and I (and my sister, who I called for parental help) all remember times when our parents forced us to do things we didn't want to do--and you know what? We understand now that sometimes things don't come easily. Sometimes you have to work at them. Sometimes you don't enjoy every second of it. And that's okay. It's in these times that you learn the importance of hard work. And perseverance. 

But man, if that didn't make me feel like the worst mom ever. 

I'm curious if this has ever happened to you? Do you give in and let them come home and drink anothr slushie? Do you force them through the door and hope for the best? Do you walk away knowing, as was the case here, that after ten minutes of dancing she'll be happy as a clam? 

Or am I just really the worst mom ever?...

 

I've got some big news!

When you're trying to get used to a new life, you spend a lot of time kicking around ideas of what you're supposed to be doing.

Does this fit into my new life plan?

Is this what I want my life to look like?

 And you also hit on a lot of practical ideas like...

Should I cross my fingers for new freelance work?

Should I teach drama at the kids' new school? 

 
The bottom line is, you weigh your options. Adam and I have been weighing my options for a couple of months, and while I've been incredibly fortunate to work on some amazing freelance projects, they are somewhat sporadic. (I one time spelled that word "spurratic" and a friend of mine oh-so-gently corrected me. And then laughed. I've never spelled it wrong again.) Of course, I love freelancing and hope to continue, but I was in the market for something more stable. 

Adam and I agreed that if I could find some sort of job from home, that would be best. We do still have a Hobbit home all day. But jobs, by and large, are hard to find...and at home? What was I going to do? Cold calls? I'd pass by editor positions at magazines I'd love to work for, but they were always in-house and not in Colorado. 

Long story short...miraculously (does anyone else realize there's really no such thing as coincidence?) a scrapbooking company that had jumped on my radar in searching for product to use for my new papercrafting book, was hiring. 

They are Webster's Pages. 

So I applied. And I got the job. And while my kids were off having a brilliant first day of school, I was home having my first day of work. And loving it. The owner, Brandin, is not only smart but completely relatable...and that goes a long way. My only complaint is that she doesn't live next door. I think we could rock some morning coffee.

Here's the big announcement on the WP blog!

Their products are gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous and I am already loving going through all of the collections, mostly drooling. Great for scrapbooking but also for mixed media...and I've got an idea for some wall art that might get the Webster's treatment! 

(Aren't they beautiful?) 

I love that they are vintage, but still vibrant. I am, after all, a color girl! 

So, yes, I'm going to be working with the crack team at WP and I am one blessed girl for it. 

Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. - Psalm 37:4

 

 

 

 

Back to School

My kids start school tomorrow. (We're taking a step of faith and sending them to the Christian school...) For a month now, I thought it was Wednesday, but it's not. it's tomorrow. And I'm glad I realized it before tomorrow. 

How did that happen, though? How did it get to be mid-August? We were looking at our summer, full of moving and renovating and while we did go on vacation, that was really the only purposely fun thing we did. 

The other day Adam came up with a weekend plan involving grilling out and hanging out and going on a day trip. "We live in Colorado but we don't do anything we couldn't do in Illinois." 

Touche. 

He was so right. We spend our weekends playing catch up...whereas most people out here spend their weekends relaxing...and you know what? I think they're on to something. 

As a sort of "last hurrah" before heading back to the grind, we took the kids to Estes Park yesterday. I know that it's not possible to go "away" every single weekend, but if we could, I think we'd consider it. Getting out of cell range...away from the reminders we still have trim to paint...without access to the work hidden inside the laptop...it was the best thing for us. 

But I think it made me acutely aware that in just one more day, we'll be shoving the kids out the door at 7:30 to go to their new school (again) and I'll be home without their chatter. 

Don't get me wrong. I won't miss the arguing. Or the constant questions or the "Mom, can you do this...?" which seems to happen at fifteen minute intervals. 

(Dear Courtney, please correct your posture. Signed, your backbone.) 

Back to school time is sort of a love-hate thing for me. My kids thrive in school. They love it. They live for it. It's their favorite. And I love seeing them happy. But I really do miss them when they aren't here, wrapped in our little home-cocoon. 

(Dear Courtney, please get some quality sleep. Signed, the puff under your eyes.) 

This year, I'm determined to be utterly organized. To stay on top of permission slips and paperwork. To pack lunches and lay out clothes the night before. I'm determined, I tell you. I won't let homework get away from me. I won't forget they don't have school and take them anyway. I wake up late and rush around trying to throw them out the door with a Pop-Tart.

I have better things in mind this year and I hope I can pull it off. So, come tomorrow, my house will be eerily quiet. Just me and the Hobbit. 

And I'm going to miss them...

A lot. 

What about you? Do you love or hate sending your kids back to school? What will you miss most? What are you determined to do differently this year? 

 

Christian School vs. Public School

I've been a little out of sorts lately, and I'm trying to pinpoint exactly what ithe culprit is. This weekend I had a little meltdown trying to work in the makeshift space I've set up, mostly because it's not functional. At all. Also because I really don't work well in chaos. 

Also because I got an idea for a new novel and all I find myself thinking about is the character I've barely met. This is a good problem to have unless you're in the middle of writing the third book in a completely different series and also working on rewrites for the second one. 

I was praying yesterday and said, "God, these ideas aren't exactly timely." 

I imagine he just smiled. 

But the other thing that's had me knotted up is thinking about next year's school situation. Here's the skinny. 

This girl:

...only has ONE more year before middle school. 

Please sit tight while I regain my composure. Seriously, how did that happen? 

We have a public school around the corner. It has a bus. The bus would practically come to the door to pick the kids up. Oh, and it's free. 

And while the elementary school scores pretty high, the middle school she'd be attending after this year scores considerably lower. I even had another parent warn me about this school. My heart lurched because people only do that if they really feel it's important. 

Then, there's this kid:

Ethan's always been more sensitive to the things he's learned at church or in chapel. When we first moved here, he was amazing at adjusting to his new school...but there was one point of contention with him. 

"Is this going to be a Christian school?" 

I explained that it wasn't, but that he was still a Christian. On the first day of school he came home and said "I found three Christians in my class." I imagined him walking up to kids at recess asking for religious beliefs and my heart quickened a little. Perhaps a lesson in social etiquette was in order. 

But it didn't seem to matter. He had good little buddies and even a pretty little blond girl that quietly stole his first grade heart. 

So, this year, I assumed we'd do public school again. Other than Sophia's a little too early sex ed lessons thanks to an "in the know" friend, we hadn't had any problems. 

Enter Ethan. 

Again.

We'd been in our new house maybe three hours when Ethan found me unpacking boxes in the kitchen. 

"Hey Mom?" he said. "Have you found my old Rockford Christian uniforms?" 

I sort of half frowned. "Um. No, buddy. Why do you need those?" 

"Because Daddy said Christian schools usually have uniforms." 

I stopped unpacking and searched his face for some clue as to what he meant. 

His big brown eyes stared up at me. "If we find my uniforms, then maybe I can go to a Christian school." 

It had been months since he'd mentioned anything about a Christian school. I had no idea it was even on his radar anymore. But sometimes I think God uses Ethan to speak to me. You know, when I'm too busy to listen. Ethan is always listening, it seems. And he had my attention. 

We started praying. I dig some digging. The financial commitment to send three kids to a Christian school is enormous. My mind instantly went to How in the world are we going to do this? 

"God," I prayed, "This is it for schools. I don't want to put them in and then have to pull them out next year. I can't do that to them again."

But my friend Jenn said something in the midst of my wondering that stopped me in my tracks. "You just do it like you're going to have the money every year...and believe that you will." She glanced at me then and shrugged. "I mean, that's faith, right?" 

After everything we've been through this past year--the moving, the house hunting, the new school, the craziness...did I still need the reminder that God can provide?

What about those three checks, Courtney? Aren't you a believer yet?

And still...weeks later, I haven't sold out to the idea. I haven't committed to it or told my kids "Yes, this is your new school." I've taken them for testing, sure. I've set up a family interview, of course. I filled out forty pages of application and returned it in a timely fashion. 

But my heart is holding out, clinging to the "what if?" 

And I remind God how much we've had to spend on this house...how much of our savings is gone now. 

And he says, "Courtney, you had that money because I knew you would need it." 

And I realize that yes, even when they're all three in school, he knows what it costs for them to go there. And I'm a bit ashamed that I'm still walking around this mountain of money searching for security in things that cannot bring it. 

The decision feels massive, like we're choosing a college or a career or a life path...but I'm trying to rest, knowing that HE holds us in his hands. And HE knows the future. And HE knows what's best for them...

And really, that's all that should matter.

I'm Angry (A Repost)

I've never re-posted a blog before, but sadly this week is getting away from me.

This week...

• Adam has the last three shows of "The Sound of Music" (I get my husband back! Yes!) 
• I'm writing 16 short skits for an assignment (I'm really excited about this!) 
• I'm writing three lessons for an upcoming book. (Again...super excited!)
• I need to complete six projects for my papercrafting book. (Deadline fast approaching!)
• Today we have 2 hours of dance, 2 hours of baseball and I need to run this 40 page application out to the Christian school we're thinking about sending our kids to. (We're praying... this is a hard call.) 

So, I'm going to repost a blog someone reminded me of today on Facebook. If you didn't read it before, I would love your thoughts. If you did, I'd love to hear if anything's changed...

And forgive me for tapping into the past...some days are just busy!

I’m standing in line at Barnes and Noble after a full day of writing when a magazine on the rack to my left catches my eye. Sports Illustrated. Swimsuit addition.

I’m looking at this photo of this tall, ridiculously thin blonde girl (I didn’t really get a good look at her face, though I’m guessing no one else is either), stretched from top to bottom of the cover wearing a yellow string bikini on the bottom and nothing on the top.

Her arms are strategically placed so you can’t see what’s behind them. (I confess I have a pretty good idea what she’s hiding.) I’m overcome with this weird disgust and hatred for this woman I don’t even know, when suddenly I realize I’m staring at a photo of a half naked woman. In the bookstore.

I turn around to realize there’s a young guy a few yards behind me—looking at me looking at the half-naked Barbie doll. And I cringe.  

Oh my gosh! That guy is watching me STARE at the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition !What is wrong with me? Why am I staring at the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition?

I quickly pay for my much less controversial magazines (Country Living, Cottage Style), pick up my latte and go on my merry way. The image of an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny yellow, barely-there, bikini is burned on my mind.  

And I think about my son.

Ethan is at an age where he does what he sees us do. He gets up early and reads the Bible with Adam. (I confess I am still sleeping at this ungodly hour. I’m okay with the fact that I’m not as holy) but he’s making his way through Psalms and I have to believe that God won’t let those hours go to waste.

He turns his head from the television if something questionable comes on. Heck, he won’t even let Sophia change if he’s in the room. Or the hallway outside the room. He hides his eyes. “I can’t look at that, Mom, it’s not good for me.”

And he’s right. It’s not good for him. At all.

Now, I know I am a prude. I am an overprotective prudish Mommy who would lock my kids in a bubble wearing chastity belts and turtleneck sweaters if I could, but I am also a woman with a healthy heaping of common sense.

Pause. Did I just call myself a woman??? Oh my gosh. When did THAT happen?

But I wonder how long…how long will it last? How long will the looking away be what he WANTS to do and not what he’s SUPPOSED to do? For how many years will he find these things as repulsive as I do?  

Don’t get me wrong. I think the human body is beautiful. God outdid himself on that one. It really never ceases to amaze me, this blood-pumping machine with its intricacies and delicacies. Sparks wonder and awe. But in its natural form—the way God intended—not in this perverse, twisted, self-gratifying way.

See, I am angry.

As a mom, I am angry.

I am angry that a store (American Eagle) that caters specifically to young kids (I’m sorry, but teenagers are YOUNG in my book), has an entire WALL that is one big, oversized photo of a girl in her bra and underwear. And that wall is behind a glass window and facing the outside of the store, the inside of the mall. So you don't even have to go IN the store in order to see it. You just have to walk by. And that makes me angry.

I am angry that I can’t walk through the mall without seeing it.

I am angry that my six-year-old has more common sense than the advertisers and knows that he should look away.

I am angry that someday…he won’t want to. And by that time, will all these images have created in him the idea that this is normal and commonplace?

I am angry that as a body-conscious woman raising a daughter, I have to explain airbrushing and Photoshop and the fact that even these models don’t really look like their photos…

 

Yes. I've shown it to her. And I've watched it... but still I wonder...will this knowledge will get into her head but bypass her heart like it did mine? 

I am angry that I still feel inferior to the cellulite-free photos of girls who are BETTER than this but still see fit to bare it all for the pages of some magazine.

I am an angry mom. It’s like they’ve already handicapped me in my parenting attempts. They’ve already given me a huge disadvantage. “You can raise pure, godly children, but we’re going to stick them in an environment that makes it virtually impossible to do so.

And yes, friends, that ticks me off.

My heart breaks for my kids, but even more so for the kids we see on Sunday mornings. Some of them don’t have anyone telling them to look away or telling them they don’t need to strive to be a size -0. Some of them will never know they are beautiful and created in God’s image and that they have a purpose. Some of them go to bed at night with tears on their pillow, wondering why no one loves them…and they will find someone to make them feel loved as soon as they can.

And that will do so much more harm than good.

I’m angry.

Because my kids are far too precious to sacrifice just because this is the world we live in. And so are yours. They deserve better. We should be giving them better.

What do you think? Am I overreacting? (Don’t answer that.) But I really am curious what you think? Besides the fact that I shouldn’t be staring at swimsuit models in public places or anywhere else?

I hope you’ll give me your thoughts. I think I could use some perspective right now…

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Ten Things (otherwise known as "Free Association.")

10. I love when my kids go outside to play, but I cannot stand the way they smell when they come in. Something about the summer heat + their sweaty bodies doesn't sit well with me. 

 
9. Sometimes this smell is so overwhelming I have to leave the room. They probably think I don't love them anymore, but I just have a really sensitive nose. 

8. Yesterday I told Sophia and the neighbor girls "You guys really stink" before I could censor myself. Whoops. 

In my defense, they really did stink.

7. I have a secret movie crush on Jason Bateman. I'm not sure where it came from because during his "Valerie's Family" (or whatever that show was called) days, I actually didn't like him...but then Mr. Magorium happened and I've been prone to J.B. crushes ever since. This weekend I watched "The Switch" and it got worse. Dry + Sarcastic = Pure Awesomeness.

6. Sophia would spend every waking minute on our neighbor's trampoline if I let her. Some days I seriously consider letting her. And then I realize she's entering the phase where she wants to be with her friends more than us and I call her home for no good reason. 

5. This always backfires. 

4. I'm starting to wonder why my older kids find it necessary to argue with their 3 year old Hobbity brother. I mean, really? He's 3. (I usually stop wondering at the exact moment I find myself arguing with him. He's obstinate, that one.) 

3. I did seven projects for my papercrafting book this weekend and I actually like them. I'm getting really exciting to see this one come together! It's been fun getting back into it...and my scrapbook room almost has a floor. When I'm going to paint the walls is a whole different issue. My painting days feels over. At least, I want them to be.

2. I'm on day four of no sugar/starch/dairy (which I don't eat anyway.) I'm eating mostly fruits, veggies and meat (and eggs, if I want them, which happens to me like, twice a year. Not much of an egg fan.) The first day was easy. The second? Considerably harder. The third? Worse. The fourth? Getting better. I know once I get the junk out of my body I'll feel so much better and am thinking of permanently adapting a "no starch" diet. I'm trying to decide if this means I should give up coffee as well (I know, I go through this monthly)... but when my favorite mug broke, I wondered if that was a sign...

This is my mug (on the left) next to a normal sized mug (on the right.) 

(Adam superglued it, but it's a little wobbly. I drink one of those in the morning and no coffee the rest of the day.) I have no idea how this is affecting my body, but I'm wondering if giving it up to find out would be smart. (I've been here before...)

1. Adam just walked in after performing his third installment of "The Sound of Music". His grand entrance into the house TERRIFIED me and I'm still trying to get my heart out of my throat. Excuse me while I go perform the Heimlich maneuver on my own self.

How about you? How was your weekend? I'm hunting for some new blogs to read so if you have one, leave me a note so I can check it out!

All Dressed Up

I've always wanted to wear dresses, but I've never felt like I could really pull it off. 

Whenever I buy clothes, I go for the most understated pretend I'm not really here types of outfits. I don't dress to be noticed. 

Mostly I wear things like this: 

or, let's be honest, this:

And yes, I do love that I can do that. Black yoga pants are my friend. 

But after too many days in shapeless Old Navy tee-shirts, I start to want a way out of the rut. And I dream of cute dresses...

In this dream, my legs are longer and very tan. And I can pull off the off-the-shoulder thing without having to launch a search for a new bra...

The dresses don't stop mid-torso and make my hips flare even more than usual... and my thighs don't touch when I'm wearing them. (I said this was a dream.)

They are just a little frilly and girly, which is just a little bit not me and somehow that's part of why I love them...

And magically, they hang just right on my frame, as if they were custom made just for me.

Even the ones I KNOW would look ridiculous off the mannequin and on my bod:

These dresses sort of transport me to a different world, a life I don't really lead...

...but some days want to...

(That last one is my favorite. Swoon.) 

All Dresses can be found HERE.

And then I look at the pile of dishes in the sink, the laundry waiting to be folded and the hours of writing I've left to do and I wake up from my ruffled, floral print daydream...

Accepting that I'm probably not a dress girl...

In spite of this imaginative love affair...

But, oh, the fun in dreaming...

 

 

 

Shall We Dance?

Not only is Sophia back in dance class, but Adam's having to learn the waltz for his role in "The Sound of Music." He came home from rehearsal and taught me some steps, which Sophia picked up fairly quickly and wanted to pass on. 

Her guinea pig?

Doesn't he look so gentlemanly? 

He gave it his very most valiant effort.

one-two-three'ing with such gusto.

But somewhere along the way he must've decided it's easier to hop a ride and forget this whole "being a strong partner" thing.

To each his own.

Cutting a Hobbit's Hair

Adam told me the other day we should start keeping track of the little things we're doing to save money rather than keeping track of all the big things going wrong that are taking our money. 

Most recent Big Thing: Not being able to get a fat rebate on our appliances because we can't get our Colorado driver's licenses without our Illinois birth certificates. Winning.

Little thing: Getting a fairly small rebate on all the paint we bought. Or using the Snapfish coupon and getting 99 prints for 99 cents. (Seriously!?)

Or, yes, cutting the boys' hair at home. 

I know people who do this and do this well.

I am not one of these people.

This is definitely one of those "practice makes perfect" kind of things. Or in my case "practice makes less awful."

We're fine shaving Ethan's hair because he has the right texture (coarse, like mine) of hair for this. (Maybe I should do the same thing?) and also a great little head. 

I do still like the mohawk though...

Maybe next time. 

But Sam? His hair has forever been different. Curly on the ends...

See those strange little curls? 

And you can't deny the simliarity...

So, cutting Sam's hair at home has never seemed like a good idea. But there's only so much Hobbit a mom can take. 

In an effort to prevent him from sprouting fur on his feet, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. Partly because hair cutting has NEVER been good with Sam. Last time I took him for a cut, the lady handled him really well but she was mean. Like, with a capital M. Like an ogre. 

"Does he squirm a lot, is that why his hair looks so bad?" 

I think she spit at me after she said that. 

So, taking him back doesn't rank very high on the top of my "can't wait to do that again" list. 

My hairdresser back in Illinois gave me some tips and showed me a video and I started to feel like maybe I could do this thing. Plus, I was concerned he'd start speaking in an Irish accent and wake up caked in a perpetual covering of dirt, so I bit the bullet.

Here's his "before" shot, in all its orange glowy glory.

And from the side:

I know. I should've cut it weeks ago. 

But I've been busy, you know, sunning and jet-setting and sipping Mimosas on the beach. 

(I don't actually know what a Mimosa is.)

During:

(Sophia had a feather in her hair up until yesterday when it just sort of fell out, except for the part that they glued to her hair. I'm thinking we may never do that again.)

And then, I just started cutting. 

I am not good at cutting hair. Give me a sheet of paper and I'm golden. Hair? Not so much. It gets everywhere and I can't help but lament over what's hitting the floor. 

BUT. I will say, that for the first time, it turned out okay. I mean, I'm not embarrassed to take him out of the house at least.

Looking at this picture, you can see where I missed a few spots on the sides (I cut them yesterday on the kitchen counter.) 

But at least he didn't squirm. So next time when she asks why he looks so bad, I can't blame it on him. 

Darn. I hadn't thought of that. 

He looks so old with short hair. It kinda freaks me out. 

I know. I'm not gonna rent a chair in a salon anytime soon, but darn it. I saved us $12. It's going on the list.

It's these little things that keep me out of my straight jacket and padded room. 

Fourth of July Traditions

I could post a ton of Fourth of July photos and I bet you would think it was the happiest day of the year for me. That's the deception of the internet. I could tell you whatever I want to go along with the joyous photos and the happy faces. 

But my July 4th didn't start off joyous and happy. 

Back home, I'm from a town that does up the Fourth of July. In fact, because of my roots, the holiday ranks up there with Christmas for me. It's about being with my family, all of us at my parents' house, the kids in and out of the water, the adults hanging out in the air conditioning until we all head out in the muggy summer heat for the fireworks. There's the parade, the carnival, the art show in the park. The events last all week.

And while I haven't done every one of those things every year, the option was there. 

And this year, for the first time...it wasn't. 

I didn't take this well. Not at first. When something's bugging me, I get crabby, but after this long together, it didn't take Adam long to figure out what was bothering me, so he did what any loving husband would do and told me to snap out of it. 

And then he got us out of the house. 

Have I mentioned lately how much I love that guy?

We had no idea what people did for the Fourth in Colorado, but we headed up to Old Town for what the internet described as "good ole fashioned American fun." 

I felt better the second we got there. 

We walked around, listened to an awesome band play in the Square (there was a fiddle. I love a fiddle.), took in the sights and it struck me that in order to NOT feel homesick on big holidays, it's important to make new traditions. 

It doesn't make the old ones any less important, just gives place to something new. 

We walked over to one of the ice cream shops in Old Town and I noticed the shop was empty when we got there and right after, it filled to overflowing. 

I also noticed the colorful row of Adirondack chairs outside seemed to be waiting for our little family--all five of us--to sit down and enjoy our treats. 

All my wallowing back home had been compounded by the fact that I KNEW I wanted my kids to have a great July 4th...but I didn't have the energy (or the knowledge) to bring it to them. And that frustrated me from the start.

It's hard to wrestle that guilt, I think. I'm such a homebody, I'm perfectly content to be in my own house and yard twenty-four hours a day. But that's not the life I want for my kids.

I want them to get out and explore. To play the painted pianos throughout the whole downtown area...

To ask me to take their picture with a flag just because they're SO EXCITED it's July 4th...

To get wet...

I noticed as we walked through this crowded area with the fountains that shoot water from one rock to the next, that just as we got there, a table cleared and we had a shady place to sit and enjoy...

...and it all helped build the excitment of the day. 

You remember that don't you? The Fourth of July excitment...?

Knowing you were going to spend the day with people who made you laugh, grilling out and getting more sugar in one afternoon than you usually got in a month...

...anticipating the fireworks you were going to see that night, as the nerves danced in your belly waiting for them to start...

Wondering if all the little flutters going off around you were "the main event."

...Taking stock of the strange things you saw...

...and knowing that you'd get to do it all again next year...

I noticed when we reached the lake for the fireworks a place seemed to call out to us and we had front row seats. 

Someone seemed to be watching out for us, all day, giving us the perfect backdrop to start new traditions...one good thing after another...

And left me feeling so grateful for our new life. 

Even in the midst of missing things about our old one...

 

 

 

One of those random Free Association Posts...and a Winner!

I think I forgot to show you my little altered notebook I made for the Crafty Power Blog. You can see the full post HERE. It's using mostly Vintage Street Market.

The next day Sophia made her own version with my scraps. 

I scrapped that all on the floor since my room is in shambles and my product is in the garage. No matter. It was therapeutic.

And now, I have some random thoughts for the day. 

1. Sometimes I hope a blog post will strike a chord and I'll hear lots of feedback in the comments section. This is not one of those posts. 

2. I've started using professional-speak with my kids. Often you'll find me saying things like "Please acknowledge." (Which is usually met with a slow as molasses "Yes, ma'am..." and then a pout.)

3. Unpacking shines a light on a lot of things. Like how you need to pay a little closer attention at the grocery store.

I've never even used Paprika.

And four cans of Sweetened Condensed Milk? I remember making one dessert that called for this (I admit, it's probably the most fattening, gooey thing ever, but it's really, really good...) but I haven't made that in years. WHY do I still feel drawn to these little of high fructose corn syrup?

And I beg you, tell me, who eats chicken out of a can?

I'm preparing for my bomb shelter. That's what it is. 

In other news, we don't eat kidney beans either, but they're making an appearance in this shot as well.

And I've decided for the next three months we're not eating sandwiches. Only wraps. 

For a family that has only had tacos maybe three times in eleven years, this is bordering on insanity.

4. Speaking of insanity. Doing dishes and having this pop up in the kitchen window is enough to scare anyone into the sanitarium...

6. I watched Adam "catch up" on my blog the other day. He only reads the posts in which he is featured. And then he laughs...not at my commentary...just at his own wacky antics.

7. And he skips the "deep posts" saying "Eh. Too deep for me." (P.S. I did not even SEE Sophia when I was taking these pictures.)

8. You know that song "Shave and a haircut?" That's the theme song I'm assigning to my husband. Fer reals. 

9. I never say things like "fer reals" in real life. 

10. And really the only thing anyone cares about, let's face it! I'm giving away this beautiful book:

And if your name is Cathy Derouche, you are one lucky lady because you won! This is Cathy's comment:

Cathy Derouche said...

Oh I love giveaways and this one is awesome!

ReplyJune 27, 2011 at 09:42 PM

If I knew how to do a screen shot, I'd offer proof, but I don't, so you'll just have to trust me. I'm an honest girl. (Cathy, send me your address to claim your prize. courtneycrops [at] msn [dot] com.)

Now I'm wondering if writing your email like that really does keep the spambots away...I have my doubts. I'm also wondering how to take a screen shot. I think I used to know.

If you're still on the fence about this book, take a peek inside HERE.

11. Just for kicks...my kids are at this moment speaking to me, or rather, at me, because I'm only listening with one ear, in French accents. So far, we've mastered Russian, Italian (or Brooklyn, I suppose) and French. I think we're ready for a world tour. 

12. P.S. Did I tell you that I now love our new carpet? (After all that worrying...) If you could see even a patch of it in this mess of a house, I'd show you a picture, but alas, someone hasn't gotten her act together and unpacked much of anything the last three days. 

What's that you say? That's how it looked the day we moved in? 

Don't bore me with those silly details. 

Just kidding. It's a little more put together, though not enough to take a photo. Have a happy (insert day of the week because I can't remember it here) day!  

Crazy Seven-Year-Old Mohawk

***Before I get to blogging today, you might notice my banner is a little "off"...no worries, I'm having some work done on my blog and it'll come around soon enough!***

Pretend your husband was a bit of a goofball, though less of one than he used to be as his hair grays around the temples...

Pretend he tried to convince you to cut his hair (and your boys' hair) at home, clinging to a few great arguments...

Think of the money we'll save. 

You won't have to take them to the barber shop (a notoriously wretched experience.) 

I hate when other people touch my head.

Pretend you started to evaluate his argument and finally gave in, at least one one head of hair. Pretend you stood outside the bathroom listening to the incessant buzz of the clippers, reminiscent of your last visit to the dentist...

Would you be surprised to find this waiting for you after five minutes in the bathroom?

Try not to look at his trying our best to fit in the mouth top row of teeth. (I love them, but focus on the hair, now.) 

How cool do you think your seven-year-old feels with a crazy mohawk?

And how long do you think it took before your impromptu photo shoot went south in favor of pure lunacy?

(Answer...5.2 seconds.) 

I especially like his "Predator" face:

Pretty hard not to focus on the teeth in that one. (Ew. This face creeps me out.) 

And how long do you think it was before Party Pooper Mommy said "Alright, now go buzz the rest of it off..." 

Today's the last day to enter to win "The Big Book of Scrapbook Pages!" Head down to THIS POST and leave a comment for your chance to win! 

 

Another Big Move

Well, we're all settling in around here...

At least Mario and Luigi have been sleeping well. Never mind that Sam fell out of his bed last night. 

We started packing the truck Friday night. It was just Adam and I, but we managed to get quite a bit in there. I felt like a man.

I mean, I helped move the elliptical (which we're selling) and big boxes and yes, my back screamed later. Never mind that Adam managed to get the fridge into the truck completely on his own.

The kids occupied themselves, while we worked, leaving their mark on the old house. Or at least on its sidewalk.

My friend Liz has walked this road. Almost exactly. They moved here the year before we did, rented for a year and then bought a house. Sound familiar? But she reminded me that the second move can be just as traumatic (if not more so) for the kids--who've just gotten settled. It helped keep me on my toes. 

I'm not sure I would've paid as close of attention if Liz hadn't told me about her experience. I don't doubt that God put her in my life for a reason.

So far, the kids are doing okay...

Even though Sam's been in character quite a bit lately. But that's not really anything new. 

Note the Mario gloves:

He still calls our house "Mr. Robin's house" (that's our realtor) but at least he's stopped peeing in the back yard.

Moving day came with a bunch of nerves, a box of donuts and some very kind people who offered their muscles and helped us get moved. Box by box. Load by load. 

...and we just piled it in.

...knowing that eventually, we'd get it all sorted out.

But I admit, today when I woke up, I didn't feel much like unpacking. Even though I know I need to keep moving. 

For their sake...

...to keep them from getting looney...

It's a process, I guess...and we'll get there eventually. For now, I'm just thrilled to be in a house that's ours. With a fridge that opens without extreme force. Never mind that the dishwasher was completely stripped and the microwave doesn't work. 

It's going to come together. 

In spite of the little surprises. And I'm so looking forward to the day this feels like home. I have a feeling that's right around the corner...

They're so Obedient.

I keep telling you how great my kids are when we take them to the new house. I ramble on and on about how this stretches their creativity, this "unplugged time." Days spent doing nothing but running around catching bugs, playing barefoot and spending SO much time together...

It amazes me how lucky I am as a mom to see them so happy all the time...

I mean, they are truly, always so well behaved...

...and all of my days are without tantrum or incident. My youngest never throws himself on the floor with a thud, never screams and kicks because I won't let him use the power saw.

Nobody spends the afternoon pouting or complaining. 

And the best part? They listen to every little word I say. I mean, they actually obey. All. the. time.

It's like Stepford up in here.

And I never have to whip out the guilt trip of a punishment because they are such angelic creatures.

I know. You're wondering how I do it. I have no answers. I guess I'm just living my dream or something...

Or is it living in a dream? 

It's such a fine line.

Can Education Help Prevent Eating Disorders?

It's been my experience that when you come through something difficult, you either build your life around getting over it (by talking about it, writing about it, learning about it, etc.) or you shut it away in a box and pretend it doesn't exist. 

For me, I think I sort of divvy up those two things. I talk pretty openly about my issues with eating disorders, but when it comes to my own kids, I think I've put that part of my life away in a box. 

I think part of it is that I don't have the answers of how to overcome an eating disorder. I think the mental illness aspect of it didn't have such a grasp on me, and I think (as cliche as it sounds) that God just kind of brought me out of it. Like Jonah getting spit out of the whale's mouth. 

But I now have a daughter heading into fifth grade. 

Did I just write that? How did that happen? And fifth grade was one of those years for me. Isn't it like that for most girls? Their bodies start to change and they aren't sure how to keep up with it?

I started to notice Sophia developing a few of the same bad habits I did when I was her age, and I had every intention of ignoring it. I thought if I didn't address it, if I never said anything negative about her eating out of boredom or not being active, then she'd be more secure in herself. She'd be more confident. She wouldn't tie all of her self worth into the way she looks. 

Because those things are really important. 

It's important that she understands her self worth has nothing to do with how she looks or what she does. That's important to me. Because I'm 35 and I'm still learning it. 

But how do you teach that to a child?

This weekend, when she and I were singing the Dixie Chicks and painting Ethan's room, she asked me for a snack (again) when I knew she couldn't possibly be hungry. And it dawned on me that I can't ignore this behavior away. She'll never understand how this all works unless I give her to tools to do so. 

I kept all of the focus OFF her appearance, and I told her the way I used to eat when I was her age. I gave her personal examples of what I did that I now know was wrong... At that time, there hadn't been a "fitness craze." There was no bottled water. We drank soda and ate junk food. And no one thought twice about it. There weren't studies about childhood obesity. 

We didn't have the information...and we suffered for it. 

But now, I have the information, and I was holding onto it. I knew I couldn't do that anymore. I told her I noticed sometimes she does what I used to do--eats when she's not hungry. She eats because she's bored. And I said "Sophia, that's dangerous because pretty soon, you'll wanna eat when you're happy or sad or frustrated or depressed. You'll eat because of your feelings, and not because your body needs fuel." 

 
Because that's all food is, isn't it? Fuel to make our bodies go. I explained that food needs to have the right things in it in order to be effective in giving us energy. This was all stuff we didn't know when I was her age. 

How could I deny her this information now? It could help so much. If I can save her from going down the same road I went down, you better believe I'm going to do that. 

I told her about some of the things that trigger eating when you're really not hungry: 

• Feeling like you have to "clean your plate." (I never make my kids do this--I save the food for later and reheat it if necessary.) 
• Eating because it's "time to eat." Who decided you're going to be hungry at noon? And then again at 5:30? 
• Seeing a treat and thinking you have to eat it right now otherwise you won't get any. (I made Sophia a promise that I'd put treats away for her to eat when she's actually hungry.)

And then we talked about the difference between "hungry," "satisfied" and "stuffed to the gills." 

I never, ever meant to talk to Sophia about this. I was content to let this thing play out and ignore her into not having my issues, but I realize now, after having the talk, that denying a child knowledge is no way to handle a problem. It's my job to educate her, to equip her, and to help her learn from my mistakes. 

These "hard talks" are getting more personal and more important...and I'm so glad we're having them now instead of when it's too late.

I guess this is the part of "seeing yourself in your kids" that I sort of dread... but instead of running away from it, I guess it's time to face it all head on. 

It's just too important to ignore...

A Little Bit of Everything

Our new house has a great yard. And with all the rain we've had lately, the grass had gotten out of control--especially since we didn't have a lawn mower at the new place. When we finally figured out a way to transport ours, the results were spectacular. 

As in. "Holy darn, that grass was long."

Yeah. It was 80's style out of control.

Sigh. Remember when Tony Danza was cool? 

Anyway, we love the yard. It's bigger than what we have here, fenced in and has some beautiful flowers that are popping up all over the place. 

Plus, I often look out the window and see this:

I won't tell you what else I see out there...

Ok, I will. I'm a sharer.

Homeboy got used to peeing in the back yard when the house was winterized. I've found him out there several times, obviously unaware the toilets have been turned back on. 

We'll get there. 

Anyway, Sam entertains himself pretty well (both with the outdoor urination and with his imagination...) Which is a good thing because typically, my older kids aren't interested in playing with him. When they are, though, it's one of my all-time favorite things. Ever.

Sometimes Ethan is incredibly patient with Sam. We recently had a discussion about not being mean to him and Ethan said "Well, Sophia's mean to me." (As if that justifies it.)

I explained the whole "then you should understand how it feels. You don't want to make someone else feel that way" thing. I'm still waiting to see if some of that little talk sunk in. 

With the boys, I can always count on things to go to the Avenue of Silly with a stop off at Loopy Lane.

I kinda love that about them. And I love that they're acting like brothers should...I can already see their relationship is going to be one of those long-lasting kinds. 

Sam's looking rather Hobbity again, don't you think?

This is what he has to say to that:

Then, of course, there's Ethan doing his best Predator impression:

Uber weird. 

My days are filled with painting, but all the while, I feel like I'm spending this amazing quality time with my kids. Non-distracted and often one-on-one...I'm loving it. 

I'm not loving painting trim anymore, however...which leaves me wondering Who's idea was this?

To which, of course, my brain responds: "Yours, you moron." 

Remind me not to do this again!

Tonight, we're heading off to see:

(I think)...and I can't wait!

What are your plans for the weekend??

Organized Sports or Organized Chaos?

I've never been an athlete.

My sister's laughing right now at the magnitude of that understatement. I'm like, the anti-athlete--and I'm okay with that. I don't pine away for the feel of the pavement beneath my Nike Cross Trainers. (Though the ad pitch in What Women Want even gets to me a little bit, I have to say...)

sigh...remember when Mel Gibson was normal?

I grew up at the ball field. Every summer, so much of our days revolved around my brother's baseball games. The year they went to state was the year I bought my very first Bangles casette tape, along with the soundtrack from St. Elmo's Fire. I must've listened to Manic Monday 1,000 times. I also locked the car keys in the trunk and garnered the wrath of my dad. 

Whoops. 

I even wore the battle scars of summer baseball...I was hit by a pop fly sitting in the stands. The darn thing landed right in my bare-skinned lap.

I probably whined about having to go to all those games. I probably hated every second of it, even though I thought my brother was a rock star pitcher. (He could throw something like 96 mph in high school.) 

But now I look back on it with such nostalgia. I grew to love baseball. My favorite sports movies are the ones about baseball.

I want my boys to love baseball. So far, it's the only sport Ethan's participated in. He's played three years, in three different leagues. This year, it's kid-pitch, two hour games, no run-rule...and I've got a bone to pick about the way we do sports nowadays. 

Somewhere along the line, someone decided it was smart to do this "every kid plays, every kid wins, let's just go out there and have fun..." thing. And while I'm all for having fun and I'm definitely all for every kid being included, I'm NOT for slacking off, not teaching the kids the fundamentals of the game and basically sending our kids out there without a clue what they're doing. 

And that, folks, is what our season has been like so far. 

(That's from two years ago...I've yet to commemorate the season this year...)

Here's the deal. 

In order to really "have fun" playing a sport, I think the kids have to feel proud of what they're doing. The enjoyment comes from doing something--and doing it well. And when you haven't taught them to do anything, how is that ever going to happen? I understand it's not all about winning--but it is about putting up a good fight, playing hard, being excellent. 

I think the approach we've taken to sports takes the excellence out of it completely. We fail to teach the kids to have pride in their work, to run hard, to do their best...and when they get on the field, it shows. 

Who does this serve? 

Kids like to feel a sense of accomplishment, but after every game so far, Ethan's practically bolted off the field and to the car. "That was the worst game ever." 

I really believe we're doing our kids a terrible disservice by not pushing them. By not requiring more out of them. And I'm not talking about more time because a two hour game for a 7-year-old is just too long. I'm talking about pulling the best out of them. Not letting them settle. Teaching them the discipline of working hard. 

Am I off my bean here? Am I the only one who is fed up with the wishy washy approach we take to kids' activities these days? We always required 100% from the kids in our shows, and you know what? They always gave us 110%. 

Does anyone else have any experience with this? I know it's not like this everywhere--my sister lives in Georgia, and they're at the other end of the spectrum down there--sports are like oxygen. But a middle ground would be really nice. 

Anyone? Bueller?

A Tech-free Summer?

When I was little we had this shed in our back yard. One day, two neighbor kids and I decided it would be a great idea to start a little fire in a pit outside that shed. We lived in town and didn't start fires on a regular basis, but for whatever reason, I decided this was a good plan. 

Little did I know my brother was strategically hiding on top of the shed, just waiting for me to do something naughty, so at the first sign of smoke, he started laughing and sing-songing "You're gonna get in trouble." 

And I did. Especially after I tried to blame the other two kids when it clearly was not their idea. 

My kids are getting to that age now. The age of independence and exploration, but I can safely say they'd never start a fire in our back yard. This should make me happy, but the truth is, they wouldn't do this because I don't give them the chance. Their play is monitored by my hawk eyes, and sometimes I wonder if this is only stifling them. 

Our new house is basically empty, unless you count all the paint cans and brushes littering the dirty carpet. That means when I'm there, my kids have nothing to do. It also means I can't hawk over them non-stop.

And I love it. 

Instead of having to ration their Wii-time, (which, let's admit, is hard... they're quiet and well-behaved when they're occupied with a video game)... I've watched their imaginations completely blossom. I've considered a tech-free summer, but we're driving to Illinois in August, so I'm pretty sure that's not gonna happen...

But a tech free couple of weeks may be on our horizon. 

The boys have been discovering bugs, baby bunnies that live under our shed and especially--playing Super Mario Brothers. Without the game. Sam is Mario. Ethan is Luigi and sometimes Sophia is Daisy. They run around the house, talking in funny Italian accents (which sound more like Brooklyn than Italy, but who am I to criticize?) 

They dig in the dirt. They hunt for fire ants. They uncover Bowser's hiding place, which happens to be outside somewhere. They journey to the wide open space of our basement and RUN in circles until their cheeks are pink and they can't catch a breath. 

Sophia continues to jump on the trampoline with her new friend, giving her a wonderful sweat-tinged odor. 

And when they come home, everyone heads straight for the bath. 

Remember these summers? Playing hide and seek with the neighborhood kids? Ghost in the Graveyard? Starting fires in the back yard? (No one else did that?) We skinned our knees and stubbed our toes and caught lightning bugs and turned them into jewelry...don't think I don't know how gross that is, but we did it. 

And we came in smelling like dirt and sweat, the undeniable smell of summer. 

I want that for my kids. I don't want to stifle their creativity by being a hawk. 

Anatomy of a Friendship

You can learn a lot by watching a child. 

I've said before that I don't make friends easily, but that's not necessarily true. I think it depends on your definition of the word "friend." I read somewhere recently that Facebook has contributed to its overuse, and I have to agree. A friend is different from an acquaintance, a colleague, a peer. A friend is Anne Shirley and Diana Barry. Oprah and Gayle. House and Wilson. 

Those kinds of friends don't come easily, I think. I sometimes wonder if being in the ministry has made me stand-offish. There's this idea that not everyone will be able to handle it if they find out you're just like everyone else. 

And I am, believe me. 

But more importantly, I've often wondered how all this new friend-making is affecting my kids. Because I do think at Sophia's age, she needs one or two best friends. Someone to tell secrets to. Someone who accepts her. Someone that makes her laugh. How is this going to work with her leaving her new friends and starting all over...again? 

Saturday we went to the house...of course. There's so much work left to do. It was the first time we'd been there on a weekend without rain. Our kids took full advantage of being outside. And we noticed there's a little girl in the house behind us. 

She looked to be about Sophia's age. I stayed in the house painting, one eye on my daughter, to watch and see what she would do when I knew she so wanted to meet this little girl. It started with staring longingly over the fence in the direction of a big open field...

And graduated to her writing a note on a paper airplane and flying it in the little girl's direction. 

I had to laugh at her approach, but hey, she gets points for creativity. 

Neither of them spoke a word. Sophia kept responding on the note, and the little girl did the same, every time she took a break from jumping on her trampoline.

Over the fence, Sophia peeked, working up the courage to say "hi."

...and their exchanges became longer and more personal. She kept reporting what she'd found out. The girl was in fourth grade too! She was going to the same school Sophia would be going too! She had an older sister in fifth grade!

This went on for quite awhile...and I likened it to my own friendships, many of which have started with an email or a written introduction. The written word simply comes easier for some of us. 

The airplane went through many transitions...

And then, eventually, they spoke. I'm not sure how the conversation started, but I know it did, because Sophia came in and asked if she could join her new friend on the trampoline...

Of course, I agreed.

Sophia's new friend even brought her hamster over for us to see...

Everyone loved it...except me, of course. I really don't do rodents.

Yesterday we went back to the house. When Sidney (the little girl) got home, she ran outside and started jumping on the trampoline. When Sophia saw her, she went out back and Sidney yelled "Can you come jump?" 

Of course, I agreed.

...and just like that, the two became friends. 

I found it so interesting to see how this friendship started...with that brief bit of awkwardness and then a comfortable ease. 

I hope they fall into all of their friendships this easily. 

And I hope I do too.

When it Rains...

We moved here in August of last year. Into temporary housing. Our kids are in a temporary school. Pretty much everything about our lives right now is temporary. 

We haven't put down roots. We haven't become "joiners." We don't "get involved" because we've known since day one there was a chance we'd move to a different part of town and this part, the here and now, would fade into the distance like the mountains on a foggy day. 

Our trip home reminded me of this. Reminded me that I liked being a part of something. Years ago, I was part of the scrapbooking world. It was a strong, solid community made up of beautiful, talented women. I was a part of CYT, a community in every sense of the word, with its own culture, its own language, its own pulse. 

And being here I've floundered without those things, I think. 

So when we decided to move to Loveland, in my mind something shifted. Finally, a place. A community. I would join. My kids would join. We would root ourselves firmly in the firmament of this town. We signed Ethan up for baseball and Adam and Sophia auditioned for a local production of "The Sound of Music." 

Long story short, after an audition and a call-back, Adam got a part. After an audition and TWO call-backs, Sophia didn't. 

It wasn't just that I was reliving my own disappointment, remembering the times I'd auditioned and not been cast, it's that this was supposed to be Sophia's thing. It was supposed to occupy her over the summer with something fun and excellent and a way for her to make new friends before going to a new school in the fall. 

And it didn't happen. 

It was raining. Droplets of disappointment fell on us last night as we processed it...the whole "telling your kid someone didn't think they were good enough" thing. 

It's tempting sometimes to revert back to my childish ways and lash out, claiming that "they don't know what they missed out on" and "you don't need them anyway..." but I'm the parent now. And I knew that wasn't going to fly. 

Because when it rains, there's a beautiful opportunity for something to grow. 

In this case, what needed to grow was Sophia. 

I told her about a time when I didn't get a part I'd tried out for. I hadn't had all the theatrical experiences in my youth, so not getting the part as a teenager came as a devastating blow. I handled it 100 percent the wrong way. I am still embarrassed about it. Everything seems so much worse when you're a hormonal teenager. 

Then I said, "So, what does this make you want to do? Do you want to quit and never audition for anything again?" 

And she said, "No, it makes me want to find out what I did wrong so I can get better for the next time." 

And in that moment, I saw the rain, pouring out on her, growing her into a young lady--able to handle disapointment with grace, a grace I never possessed at her age. 

So I asked her, "You know Daddy did this show to spend time with you. What do you think he should do? He could tell them he can't do it..." 

She interrupted me and said "I want him to do it. He should still get to be in the show." 

Most days I feel like a pretty crappy mom. 

I'm short-tempered, pre-occupied, self-involved...

And in that moment, God showed me that my kids really are in the palm of HIS hand...in spite of me.

I figured we had a choice... we could let the rain sweep us downstream, taking with it our newly planted roots--and don't get me wrong--a part of me, just wanted to retreat, to keep her from feeling that disapointment ever again, in spite of this gift I know God's given her to perform. 

But she showed me...it's in the midst of the downpour that we take our sustinence, that we drink in the strength that builds our character. That we become the people who can't only rely on our own strength, but who desperately need to tap in to something bigger than us. 

I sometimes don't give my kids enough credit...but last night, during our own personal storm, I discovered more about Sophia's character than I ever would have if she'd gotten that part. 

We decided to see if there's any way for her to get involved in Daddy's show... if there's any way for her to serve, to learn and to support what in our minds should've been hers. 

Somedays, you just have to drink in the rain...

 

The creative middle child

Sometimes I'm reminded that Ethan is a middle child in every sense of the word. I was a middle child, so I try to make sure he doesn't get overlooked, but then it dawns on me that Surprise! He's being overlooked. He's easy and laid back and low maintenance, and well, that makes him easy to overlook...

 
I tried to convince Adam he gets these traits from me, but he just started laughing and walked away.

Ethan is all boy. His jeans are worn one time before they have holes in the knees. His shoelaces are coming apart after only one month of wearing them. He has to empty sand out of his shoes every single morning.

He plays hard. He cries too often. He's really sensitive.

And pretty goofy.

 
I sometimes wonder how he handles all this moving around stuff. He still talks about his old friends, and even though he's incredibly good natured, I have to wonder how it's really affecting his tender heart.

 
We close on the house on Friday. He has a reader's theatre at school. They're at the same time. I'm sad to think that he may not have a parent in the room cheering him on. It makes my heart hurt...makes me feel like I'm letting him down.

He'll never let on if that's really how he feels. He's just that kind of kid.

I've started noticing that Ethan is really creative. I guess I didn't expect that from my boys. I don't know why given who I'm married to, but it's been surprising to see how much he loves art and building things and yes, even modeling clay...

 
And, you can see, he's also got a thing for Super Mario Brothers...Here's Mario...

 
Luigi...

 

And um...Yellow Toad and that other guy...

 
Pretty fun, no?

 

He wants a Mario room in our new house and while this goes against everything I believe a child's room should be (I am not big on commercialized bedding/clothing etc.) I'm inclined to make it happen for him... and to make it the coolest room he's ever seen.

I think he's pretty special, this kid.

Time to find some creative ways to show him.

Silk Tie-Dyed Easter Eggs

I love my husband. When he was a children's pastor, he'd always find the coolest things to do with our kids, and I'm happy to say that hasn't changed. I love the kind of dad Adam is. Involved and creative and usually pretty even-keel even when I'm not.

We tend to trade off on bad moods or lack of patience, which is good because on the rare occasions we're both losing it at the same time, it's like WW3 in here. Not really. That was a joke.

Just before Easter, Adam "stumbled" (do you know stumbleupon.com?) upon an idea for a new way to color Easter Eggs. He was so excited about trying this, but I assumed that by Friday he'd forget all about it. Not so.

So, Saturday, we gathered our supplies, ran all over God's green earth looking for a glass or enamel pot (we never did find one) and finally got down to it.

In spite of his enthusiasm, our kids weren't exactly cooperative, so I'm not going to lie and tell you it was all bunnies and roses here. It wasn't. It was mildly frustrating and at times, frankly, just annoying, but we worked it out in the end...

So here's what you do.

1. Gather your supplies: Silk ties (we bought them at Good Will), scissors, an old white tee-shirt or sheet, eggs (not hard boiled), twist ties or string, water, vinegar & a big pot (apparently you're supposed to do glass or enamel but we used metal and it was fine.)

(A better blogger would've had a photo of this. I just have an orange-tinted photo of our messy table.)

 

2. Cut the ties. You want strips big enough to wrap the egg in.

 

During this step, you may begin to question the hand eye coordination of your left-handed child...

 
...despite the "Great Chop Job of '08" in which he demonstrated on his own hair that he does, in fact, know how to use a pair of scissors.

 

Yeah. Good times right there.

And, about this point, your Hobbit may begin to wonder why he had to turn off Spongebob, because for Pete's sake, he sure can't use scissors.

 
(Don't worry, his meltdown is JUST around the corner.)

After you've cut the ties, you'll have what looks like a big, fat mess. No worries. This is common in the Walsh house. At least on the art kitchen table.

Next, you just roll the eggs up in the ties...

 
...or pose with them, whichever...

 
Then use a twist tie (or a piece of yarn if you forget to buy them in spite of your husband's reminder calls and texts while you were standing right in the middle of Target...)

 
I'm nothing if not resourceful.

Once you're done, you've got a big pile of tie-wrapped raw eggs.

 

So, next, take an old white T-shirt or sheet and cut it into pieces big enough to wrap the eggs again.

 
And then do that. (Good instructions, no?)

And wrap a long piece of yarn all around the egg...

 
About this time, you're exhausted because you procrastinated all day and it's way past the kids bed time. Take a deep, cleansing breath. It's about to get worse.

While your husband rifles around in the cupboard for vinegar (which you know you have SOMEwhere,) you go put the kids to bed. They will argue with you about what they're wearing to church for Easter because you didn't get them new outfits. It's okay. DO NOT storm out of their rooms, throw a towel at your husband and say "You deal with them." This never works in your favor. Especially when you take over the vinegar hunt and come up empty-handed.

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Once you find your composure hiding somewhere else in the house, you boil the eggs in water and at least 1/4 cup of vinegar at a nice simmer (about 20 minutes). If you have an electric stove, good luck. Electric stoves do whatever they want.

Oh, and your house is going to STINK. So, just be prepared.

Then plop down on the couch and watch TV till midnight so it's impossible to wake up on time the next day.

When you finally get home from church, revisit your little eggs...

 
Endure your children's complaints about how badly they smell. They'll get over it in a minute.

And do not, by any means, announce your skepticism that any of this is going to amount to anything...

 

Because, well, you'll be eating crow...

 
Because the eggs are pretty. darn. cool.

 
 
 
 

And this one is my favorite...

 
 
A huge success! And totally edible, so figure out how to make egg salad and you're good to go...

 

On Worry.

I went to bed last night tired. I thought for sure I'd fall right to sleep. I'd spent the day at Panera, writing my heart out and I was exhausted.

But then it started. Giddy-up brain. Like a pack of wild boars, the thoughts run through my head without permission, tumbling over one another like clothes in a dryer.

I'm helpless to stop them and helpless to fall asleep.

 
*Random photos that have nothing to do with this post will accompany my words throughout. For your viewing...uh...pleasure.*

It starts with a simple thought. Something like I can't forget to call the banker tomorrow.

And then this happens.

I can't forget to call the banker tomorrow...and oh shoot. I don't know where I put the W-2's from 2009. I hope I can dig them out of whatever box they're in. I really need to start putting stuff like that in a safe place so I can always find them. Like birth certficates. Ethan needs that for baseball. Can I even get that in time? And why do they need a birth certificate for a seven-year-old to play baseball? And I can't believe he starts baseball next week--two nights a week could be tricky with all these deadlines. And the moving. And the packing. And the...

 
Then the left side of my brain pipes in with: You really need to get to sleep. All the coffee in the world isn't going to help you if you only get four hours of sleep. Calm down. Go to that quiet place. Imagine yourself in the resevoir. You're on a boat. The sun is shining. Do you feel the sun on your face? It's warm. The water's peaceful.

 
(Ok, this photo does have something to do with the words. This is what I'm picturing...)

Then Adam stirs and I struggle to get a deep breath.

Am I keeping him awake? Does he hear all the thoughts in my head?

He snores.

Guess not.

 
Ok, back to my quiet place. Calmness. Happiness. Peacefulness.

This lasts for maybe 45 seconds of blissful floating down the resevoir in my mind. Then I'm back at it.

I forgot to change the clothes from the washer to the dryer. Shoot. Now they're going to stink. (Sometimes I get up and do this) I should've made the kids' lunches tonight--now we're going to be rushed in the morning. I hate being rushed in the morning. And if I don't hurry up and fall asleep, I'm going to end up oversleeping.

Then I start imagining my cup of coffee. It's good and creamy and warm and I almost can't wait for morning.

If I'm going to be awake anyway, I should probably brainstorm my book. I have so much to fix. I wish I could get it right the first time. I wonder if this means I'm really a crummy writer. So, if I have Campbell come back to Sweethaven, should I...? You know, maybe it's not good that I let Sam imagine Mario so vividly. He calls me Peach. Is his brain going to split into two personalities? That happened on that episode of Criminal Minds...

 
Then, inevitably, I hear a noise in the house. Usually it's The Hobbit banging into the wall with his head. He gets so turned around when he sleeps. So I lay still for a minute and listen. My mind comes along for the ride.

What if there's someone up there? Or maybe there's someone in the garage? What if someone tries to get in the house? I really need to sleep with my cell phone under my pillow. Should I wake Adam? Or just get up? I'll just get up. I'm sure it's nothing.

At this point I feel like a character in a horror movie--the one that the audience shakes their head at, saying something like "What's wrong with you, you idiot? Don't GO IN THERE!" But I creep upstairs to find all three kids are safe, sound and dreaming about Legos, Mario & Luigi and Justin Bieber.

Phew.

 
I wish I could tell you I had some grand point to this blog post, but I really don't. It's an observation about the way my mind works and I'm not sure how to stop it. But I do know this...while some of my thoughts are reminders to myself of things I need to do in the morning, others are me chastising myself for not doing something on time or the right way. Other thoughts would be classified as WORRY.

And those are the thoughts I want to do away with.

I worry Way. Too. Much. Don't tell Adam I'm admitting that. He tells me that all the time and we don't want him thinking he's right.

I did this layout for my first book and the sentiment sticks with me.

 
Worry is faith in the enemy.

Isn't it? Isn't this my way of trying to manage all I have to do, trying to work it all out...and not trusting God to step in when we need him to?

This is about 8% of what I think about lying in bed at night. About 8% of my worries. There are so many more things that crawl into my mind when I'm not paying attention and I'm working on putting up roadblocks to make it more difficult for that to happen.  

 
...No one says it's going to be easy, of course.

But it's necessary I think. Necessary to cast all my cares...

Because he DOES care for me. And for you. And he proves it (like he needs to) every single day.

A question. What do you worry about? What keeps you up at night? How do you handle those pesky situations you really cannot do anything about...but they still worry you anyway? And really, should I stop letting Sam be "Mario"? (He wears his socks on his hands to help with the fantasy.)

 

Happy Birthday & A Winner!

So as of today, I am officially the mother of a ten-year-old.

 
I honestly cannot believe it's been ten years since we first met Sophia.

 
From the beginning, she's always been a pretty content kid. A rule follower like her mommy.

Well, except that one time...

 

She's always been fashionable...

 

...and loving to her brother(s)...

 
And yes, she's always been a little performer...

 

She's always been told she looks just like her daddy...except, ya know, prettier...

 

See what I mean?

 

She's smart beyond belief, loves to read and has a strong sense of what's right and what's not. And she's not afraid to say so.

 
I kind of love that about her.

We named her Sophia because 1. I liked the name and 2. It means "wisdom" and "excellent virtue." We pray those things for her...

 
As she grows, it's my prayer that she'll know God more, love God more and be totally confident in who He's called her to be.

 
We love you, sweet girl, and hope this turns out to be your best birthday yet!

 
**************************************************************************

Now, for those of you who didn't come here to see my walk down memory lane, I do happen to have a WINNER for Christy's brand new Art Journaling Class, "She Had Three Hearts."

Special thanks to my sweet friend for letting me probe her brain! I loved it! (And I'm doing another fun interview this week that you might be interested in, so come back and check it out.)

Now. For the good stuff. The winner is:

 
(Like my brushwork there in Photoshop?)

#20!

Martha Richardson said...

I'm signed up for SheArt but already know I want to sign up for the next one ;)

Reply March 25, 2011 at 05:39 PM

So, Martha!! Send me your information and we'll get it on to Christy and YOU, lucky lady, will be soaking up the good stuff.

Hope you're having a great week!

A snapshot of my life...

Right now...

Reading...

 
And...

 

Loving...

 

Wanting to watch...

This movie.

Planning to overhaul this room...

 
Loving on this kid...

 
...and not just for his shoot 'em up face...

 
and his smooshy lips.

Drinking lots of this...

 
...while editing chunks of this...

 
...and wielding a sword at the voices of self doubt.

Preparing for these two to come see us...

 
Hoping they'll give us another series of unexpected goofiness like the last time we went to Estes Park.

Thanking God for...

 
As we prepare for this chick's tenth birthday...

 
...and making darn sure we don't forget about this guy in the midst of it all...

 

My life feels filled to overflowing right now. It's busy, but it's a good busy... Hope you're feeling the same...

Using Creativity to Instill Faith in your Kids: The Prayer Board

I've got a super fun project to share today that gives you a chance to use your creativity to build your kids' faith.

Adam is an editor now for Group Publishing, which means he and I have been digging into the phenomenal curriculum this company puts out. I've done some freelancing where I've been writing curriculum for churches, but it's the take-home activities I'm loving dreaming up.

As I work on these different ideas, I find myself thinking "Wow, we should do that with our kids."

So this weekend, we did.

I'm extremely visual when it comes to learning, and recently I went back in my journal with a highlighter and highlighted all the answered prayers going back to months before our move. There were SO many. I started thinking this would be a great way to build our kids' faith. To create a display board where we pin our prayer requests and then a separate section where they could move the requests once they've been answered.

I started with this:

 
...which, let's face it, isn't doing anyone a bit of good.

I cleared it off and tucked away all the awesome little mementos...

 
Then I turned to the brains of the operation for their input.

 
I cut strips of paper and asked them to write down any prayer requests they had. And then, any answered prayers they could think of.

 
Once that was done, I started with this hoity toity, frilly scrapbooking paper and then realized I thought it was really pretty, but it didn't reflect our family...certainly not my kids...so we put that aside and went with something more cheerful. Ethan and Sophia each got to pick one piece for the background and then they had to agree on the other two pieces.

I did the cutting...

 
...and the dorky posing that shows just how desperately I need to find someone local to cut (and color) my hair. Ouch. It hurts to look at this.

 

(And for those of you who saw me on Friday, I may or may not be wearing the exact same clothes I was wearing then.)

We laid the pages out on the board and that's when I discovered my haphazard methods of measurement weren't exactly the best idea...I had this gap in the center.

 

See?

 
Happy accident, if you ask me.

 
Turns out, a nice strip of striped paper in the center made the perfect separation.

Pause for mustache picture.

 
Can you see the chocolate milk mustache? Or is it "moustache?" I never know. But while we're on the subject...are mustaches (moustaches, pronounced "moo-stashes") coming back in style? I don't claim to be fashionable and I need to know. The whole concept confuses me. Like a furry animal over the top lip. Just no.

Unless you're Tom Selleck. Then you can do whatever you want.

Anyway. Back to the Prayer Board.

The great thing for cheapie mommies like me is that when you're working on a cork board, you can staple it instead of parting with your precious (and expensive) adhesive!

 

So, staple it all on there, a nice border in the center to separate your requests from your praises.

 

(I know this picture feels "off". I get vertigo looking at it. Sophia was camera happy so she took most of these, but seriously, I couldn't figure out which way this one went!)

Anyway. Next, we laid all of the requests out on the board. Not including mine and Adam's because we haven't done ours yet... Oh, and I added some 3-D K & Company sticker flowers onto two of the edges. I really think it needs more "pop" in general, but this is a good start.

 

So, then we took a bunch of these fun Girl's Paperie stickers and outlined the board and I added the words "Prayers and Praises" right at the top.

 

I also printed out two "titles" to help differentiate the top and the bottom.

 
The top says "We're asking God for..." and the bottom says "We're thanking God for..." (Now that I think about it, I should probably flip those around. I'd like to teach them to be thankful first. So if you make this, do that, ok? and make your titles bigger because you're kids don't understand "small handwriting," and their requests will overpower your title. Just sayin'.)

Then we re-hung it.

 
While I did the cutting and stapling, this really was the kids' project, and my hope is that as these prayers are answered, one by one, we can move them to the other side of the board and they'll have a visual way to see that God does listen to them. To all of us.

And he answers every prayer...in his time.

*Don't forget you've still got a couple days to enter the giveaway in this post. You could win a spot in Christy's art journaling class!

An Interview, Art & A Giveaway!

*There is an awesome giveaway at the end of this post...but don't miss the goodstuff between this line and that one!! :)*

Years ago, when I first entered the scrapbooking world, there were few people as generous and genuine as my friend Christy Tomlinson.

I've always admired Christy for so many reasons. Her style blows me away, not just her pages and her impecable interior design skills, but also (and especially,the way she treats people...the way she lives her faith...the way she makese me laugh. Christy is doing amazing things, and I feel so honored and a little bit in awe that I get to witness it...even from a few states away.

I wanted to take this chance to interview my friend because I think her perspectives on art and family and business are inspiring.She truly is one of a kind.

Plus, she's one of my very favorite artists and one day I'm going to buy a CT Original to hang in my new home!!

Grab your coffee and pull up a chair...I'm so happy to share a little deeper look at my friend, Christy Tomlinson.

 

[Courtney] In a world with so many visual images, how do you think an artist can develop a style that's uniquely their own?

[Christy] The great thing about art is that we have all a history that we bring to the table. We have experiences and relationships that are unique only to us. Each of those experiences and relationships translate into art and so that is what each person creates that is uniquely their own. It's not necessarily  about style...it's about the story being told. 

 
 
[Courtney] I love that...telling our stories...Do you find you have voices of self doubt? And how do you silence them?

[Christy]  Um.. heck yeah! I do everytime I start a new adventure in my life...but honestly...having good friends and a supportive husband keeps me grounded. I have to remember that if I don't try, I can't fail. And I would rather try a million times over and have one fantastic experience then never try and never have one. 
 
[Courtney] And you've definitely done lots of amazing things! What advice do you have for someone wanting to turn their creativity into a business?

[Christy] Remember the internet and social networking are your friend. Millions and Millions of people are on the web so creating an online business is probably one of the KEY things to our success. We live in a small town, only 4000 people.There is no way our business would ever survive a "store front". But online, I have access to millions of customers and most of those customers have come from free or inexpensive advertising like social media networks, blogging, facebook. and twiter. Remember to be yourself. I TRULY believe it will work out, if it's meant to be. If it doesn't, it might not be the right time, or the right format. 

 

  
[Courtney] For an artist, inspiration is so important...What (or who) inspires you?

[Christy]  My life inspires me. Life experiences... friendships, deaths, celebrations, heartaches, fun memories...they inspire me. I can't imagine creating art without a purpose in mind. I mean I can, but wow, when there is emotion involved...it just has so much more meaning. you know?  I have alot of favorite artists.Melody Ross is someone who inspires me emotionally. She is a TRUE gift. She can brings out the best in me. I also LOVE Somerset Studio magazine...so much inspiration in that magazine! 
 
[Courtney] So once you're inspired, how do you get motivated? You're so busy! How do you do what you need to do even when you don't feel like it?

[Christy]  My family motivates me. But honestly,it's a scary position to be in...the creative ideas, concepts, new products, new workshops...all of those things are what support my family. My husband supports me and helps run our store and is a WORKHORSE, but the concepts and ideas FALL on my shoulders. So my family motivates me. I have 6 kids, my husband and I work out of our home, so  THIS is my livelihood, our full-time business. I admit there are days that I just need a break {like ANYONE who has a job or a stay at home mom taking care of kids) Oh my heck! We all need a break right? So I spend time doing things I love to do too. Read a book, have a get together with friends, Watch tv.. sleep. Sleep and more sleep. It's important to take time for ourselves. 

 

 
[Courtney] As a mom, I keep wondering, how on earth you do it with SIX kids??

[Christy]  Well, first off remember my husband is home full time. He works with me, so I guess we are both really busy, BUT our kids are extremely self sufficient and mature and they're hard workers. I grew up in a family of 13 and my husband a family of 8,so from the time we could talk we were doing chores to help keep the house clean and organized. Our kids do their own laundry (ages 6-15). They each have a dish night. They each have a night they cook (the younger ones pair up with the older ones). Don't get me wrong, my husband and I do too, but we ALL share in the responsibilities of the home. We are also the type of people that don't feel the need to be involved in EVERYTHING just because everyone else is. We don't push a ton of "extra"  activities on our kids unless it's something they REALLY want to do.  Why? just because the Jones' do? We do our own thing. Some people think we are weird, but we like to think we are low key! LOL

 
[Courtney] Ok, so what's a typical day life for your low key self? Be honest!!

[Christy] Ben and I up at 7:30, come downstairs and have prayer before my husband drives the kids to school. After they're gone, I go right into my office and start working (in my pj's, without my hair brushes or a bra on, etc). It's not usually until someone stops by unannounced or it's lunch time, that I realize I am still sitting in my pj's and haven't even put my contacts in and that's why my eyes hurt from squinting). That's when I go get dressed. We work until usually 5:00 PM. Just like most normal people. I am either ordering product for the store, working on an art piece for the blog, or my licensing agent. Or shooting video for an online class. Blogging, editing video, answering customer service emails... that's my day.

My kids get home around 3:00 and when they do I always take time to stop and make sure they are doing their homework, their afterschool jobs, that they are getting to scouts or other meetings they have. After diner, we either just hang out as a family, or go to "meeting" like games, or church things that we have as a family.. and then bedtime is around 8:00! We read scriptures and have prayer and then after the kids are in bed my husband and I snuggle on the couch and watch tv.  It's SO important for us to have down time. AND to have a relationship outside of "work". We work together 24 hours a day. Never apart. We have for 14 years of our 17 years of marriage. So we have a very awesome and productive business relationship.. but it's important for us to really take time for our "personal" relationship too. Same with my kids. 

 


[Courtney] If I had to describe you in three words, I would say "Inspiring, creative and genuine." How would YOU describe yourself?

[Christy]  Motiviated, Funny and Low key. 
 
[Courtney] You're so positive and encouraging. What do you make of the negativity and criticism that's out there in the creative world?

[Christy]  Honestly, I don't hear it...I do my own thing. I do this because it's my life and my job and it supports my family. If I let myself get caught up in catty message boards or mean websites, I would NEVER move forward AND I would question every decision I make worrying if those decisions would end up on those "message boards or websites". So I don't. Really honestly, we are all just wonderful people trying to do wonderful things... so I LOVE and support everyone.  
 
[Courtney] I know you, like me, have a strong faith...I'm curious how it influences your daily life? Your relationships? Your art?

[Christy]  My faith IS my life. It always has been. My husband and I live our life around our religion (we are LDS) and we believe every opportunity, every idea, every "break", every good thing that happens to us is a blessing from God.  We also  believe every heartache or trial or hardship is also a gift from God... in that we can grow and learn from those experiences and it makes us stronger. I believe there is a beautiful life waiting for me after this one, and my relationships and knowledge and life experiences are ALL I get to take with me. I believe I have the opportunity to be with my family forever depending on how I live in this life. So my life is centered around living so I can be with them forever. So It has a huge influence in every part of my day to day. It does. Wow. That was intense! LOL. 
 
[Courtney] I love your passion, so much...but since I also know you as a fun girl, let's end on a goofy question. If you had to eat one meal for the rest of your life...what would it be?

[Christy] Ham, mashed potatoes and frozen peas. YUM. 
 

Do you see why I love this girl? If you missed her She Art mixed media workshop, I'd highly recommend it! And ...this is the best part...I'm super SUPER excited because Christy has a new workshop...This time, she'll tackle art journaling...a subject near and dear to my own heart!

So today, Christy is giving away a seat in her new class, it's called "She Had Three Hearts."

 
You can read more about this class HERE, but trust me, Christy's workshops are amazing and it will be well worth the $35.

If you'd like to win a spot in this awesome online class, all you have to do is leave a comment on this post before midnight (MST) on March 30th. In honor of my daughter's tenth birthday, I'll draw a winner on Thursday, March 31st!

Facebook, blog or tweet about this giveaway and you can enter up to three more times! How's that for spiffy?

And don't you dare click out of this without commenting and say "I'm not creative." None of that crazy talk on this blog, missy.

Special thanks to Christy for sharing so much of herself, with this interview and just with her life in general. Now, what are you waiting for?

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*All images are property of Christy Tomlinson