hey, anyone remember celebreality monday? let's go all old school today and bring that sucker back.
i am a-wallowing in self pity lately.
i'm all, boo-hoo, i can never leave my house. 85% of the time, someone in my house is crying. i am so over being primarily responsible for four lives, four butts to wipe, four mouths to stuff (if you're confused on the math, i'm counting my own life, butt and mouth in there). i can't even go to the doctor or the grocery store without having to pack a week's worth of water, food and first aid supplies. i'm constantly meeting everyone else's needs and wants, constantly trying to finish at least one task before three more get added to my list, constantly having to bear the burden that is simply listening to all the NOISE. blah blah blah, woe is me.
last night, some kid spilled milk on my new-but-already-stained-with-blood-and-puke slipcover. and i was all, it sucks that we can't have nice things.
and it's true. we can't really have nice things and expect them to stay nice. stainless steel? white slipcovers? a rug under the dining room table? what are we, idiots? apparently so, since we have all of these things.
but god later whispered, you can't have nice things because you have wonderful things. yeah, i totally wish my house would stay clean for at least thirty seconds before looking like a tornado-ravaged landfill. i wish my slipcovers would stay white, my stainless would actually stay stainless, and the rug under my dining room table did not feel crusty and smell like cheese. but those nice things lose their niceness because of the wonderful little things running around ruining them. and i'd rather have ruined nice things than unappreciated wonderful things.
Showing posts with label celebreality monday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label celebreality monday. Show all posts
celebreality monday.
i am a pregnant wreck.
first off, i'm a big old fatty. i am on my third pregnancy and have never before had to buy larger underwear just to accommodate my expanding rear end. this time, i have not been so lucky. on saturday night, todd and i went on a special date to go out to eat and to also buy giant preggo undies. romantic. (and also to pick up some of those giant maxi pads that i will only ever wear postpartum or post-collapse-of-my-pelvic-floor-at-the-age-of-65.)
upon leaving the target parking lot, i opened one of the packages to see what the undies looked like and they were huuuuuuuuuuge. todd got all grouchy because we bought three packages of undies that were obviously way too big, one of which we couldn't return because i had opened it. i got all grouchy because i was pretty sure they were going to fit. we got home and todd had a very brief moment when his grouchiness lifted because we didn't need to take them back. then, i suspect some grouchiness settled back in because he realized his wife was a big old heifer in underwear made from approximately the same amount of fabric as an american flag. (i can merely speculate on this, since he was a perfect gentleman and acted all not-grouchy and said he was just happy i was comfortable.)
then, to put the cherry on the big old fatty crazy train cake, i started bawling this morning because even my maternity clothes are too small. that's right. the clothes that i bought during previous pregnancies to accommodate my this-is-the-hugest-i-get body are basically crop tops with a nasty pokey-out belly button peeking out from underneath.
also, i was bawling because standing up in the paint chip aisle at lowe's the other day stretched me to the max. capac. of my physical limits. how the heck am i supposed to BIRTH A BABY if i can't even decide between 'inflamed lesion' and 'arson' (or whatever crazy-named paint i was looking at) without having to sit down to catch my breath and regroup? are. you. kidding. me.
also, then i started bawling because i broke todd's mirror which was probably more because i knocked it in the sink than because my preggerface has the power to bust glass but maybe not. and also i was bawling because i missed the kids. and also i was bawling because i don't even know why.
so what i'm really hoping for at this point is for the next 32 days to go by REALLY quickly and also that it won't take the full 32 days and also that i can birth this baby insanely quickly and painlessly, like ricky bobby's mom did in the car and when the dad hit the brakes the baby just flew out and splatted against the window. and also that my baby turns out nothing like ricky bobby.
shake and bake.
first off, i'm a big old fatty. i am on my third pregnancy and have never before had to buy larger underwear just to accommodate my expanding rear end. this time, i have not been so lucky. on saturday night, todd and i went on a special date to go out to eat and to also buy giant preggo undies. romantic. (and also to pick up some of those giant maxi pads that i will only ever wear postpartum or post-collapse-of-my-pelvic-floor-at-the-age-of-65.)
upon leaving the target parking lot, i opened one of the packages to see what the undies looked like and they were huuuuuuuuuuge. todd got all grouchy because we bought three packages of undies that were obviously way too big, one of which we couldn't return because i had opened it. i got all grouchy because i was pretty sure they were going to fit. we got home and todd had a very brief moment when his grouchiness lifted because we didn't need to take them back. then, i suspect some grouchiness settled back in because he realized his wife was a big old heifer in underwear made from approximately the same amount of fabric as an american flag. (i can merely speculate on this, since he was a perfect gentleman and acted all not-grouchy and said he was just happy i was comfortable.)
then, to put the cherry on the big old fatty crazy train cake, i started bawling this morning because even my maternity clothes are too small. that's right. the clothes that i bought during previous pregnancies to accommodate my this-is-the-hugest-i-get body are basically crop tops with a nasty pokey-out belly button peeking out from underneath.
also, i was bawling because standing up in the paint chip aisle at lowe's the other day stretched me to the max. capac. of my physical limits. how the heck am i supposed to BIRTH A BABY if i can't even decide between 'inflamed lesion' and 'arson' (or whatever crazy-named paint i was looking at) without having to sit down to catch my breath and regroup? are. you. kidding. me.
also, then i started bawling because i broke todd's mirror which was probably more because i knocked it in the sink than because my preggerface has the power to bust glass but maybe not. and also i was bawling because i missed the kids. and also i was bawling because i don't even know why.
so what i'm really hoping for at this point is for the next 32 days to go by REALLY quickly and also that it won't take the full 32 days and also that i can birth this baby insanely quickly and painlessly, like ricky bobby's mom did in the car and when the dad hit the brakes the baby just flew out and splatted against the window. and also that my baby turns out nothing like ricky bobby.
shake and bake.
pregstache
this pregnancy has caused some major body image distortion issues. but you know what? i have found that body dismorphic disorder doesn't have to be as scary or sickening as TLC specials would make you think.
i'm a big old fatty with rampant preggerface and boobs that are significantly different in both size and shape, and i'm all like, seriously what a hottie am i?!?! my butt is huge and the skin on my legs is super sensitive and therefore very prone to razor burn, which means my legs constantly look like a 16-year-old KFC employee's face, and i'm all like, LOOK AT MEEEEEE! i feel like a million bucks riding on a unicorn eating everything ever made out of gluten.
i will say that this pregnancy has been very good to my skin - it's really clear and a lot of my dark acne scars have faded. plus, my cheeks are all rosy from being constantly out of breath and out of shape. i can even sleep in my contacts without my eyes getting all strung-out-alcoholic-looking. that is a pregnancy miracle.
however. i am growing a beard. or as i call it when i want to sound dainty, 'my lady whiskers.' and also, instead of a dark line running down my belly like i've gotten in both previous pregnancies, it is above my upper lip. i call it my pregstache. and it's dark enough that todd noticed and suggested covergirl come out with a new concealer called 'stache blast.' (or "conceal 'er stache," he couldn't decide.) but you know what? i still feel like i'm looking pretty darn good.
which was my heads-up that this is not just a matter of high self-confidence or being secure in who christ made me to be. (i'm pretty sure when it says we're made in the image of god that god doesn't literally have copious numbers of leg pimples.) this is mental distortion at a concerning level. should i talk to a medical professional about this? and i feel bad for my husband, who's expected to find my 'as-wide-as-i-am-tall-and-also-i-have-a-beard' bod as rockin' as i do.
but soon enough, the swelling and engorgement will give way to sagging and flopping, and maybe then i'll be able to see myself through a more realistic lens. maybe not, though. steven tyler seems to be rocking it pretty hard and he has seen his fair share of sagging and flopping. if i believe in myself hard enough, maybe i can be the steven tyler of the postpartum mom set.
i'm a big old fatty with rampant preggerface and boobs that are significantly different in both size and shape, and i'm all like, seriously what a hottie am i?!?! my butt is huge and the skin on my legs is super sensitive and therefore very prone to razor burn, which means my legs constantly look like a 16-year-old KFC employee's face, and i'm all like, LOOK AT MEEEEEE! i feel like a million bucks riding on a unicorn eating everything ever made out of gluten.
that's pretty happy.
i will say that this pregnancy has been very good to my skin - it's really clear and a lot of my dark acne scars have faded. plus, my cheeks are all rosy from being constantly out of breath and out of shape. i can even sleep in my contacts without my eyes getting all strung-out-alcoholic-looking. that is a pregnancy miracle.
however. i am growing a beard. or as i call it when i want to sound dainty, 'my lady whiskers.' and also, instead of a dark line running down my belly like i've gotten in both previous pregnancies, it is above my upper lip. i call it my pregstache. and it's dark enough that todd noticed and suggested covergirl come out with a new concealer called 'stache blast.' (or "conceal 'er stache," he couldn't decide.) but you know what? i still feel like i'm looking pretty darn good.
which was my heads-up that this is not just a matter of high self-confidence or being secure in who christ made me to be. (i'm pretty sure when it says we're made in the image of god that god doesn't literally have copious numbers of leg pimples.) this is mental distortion at a concerning level. should i talk to a medical professional about this? and i feel bad for my husband, who's expected to find my 'as-wide-as-i-am-tall-and-also-i-have-a-beard' bod as rockin' as i do.
but soon enough, the swelling and engorgement will give way to sagging and flopping, and maybe then i'll be able to see myself through a more realistic lens. maybe not, though. steven tyler seems to be rocking it pretty hard and he has seen his fair share of sagging and flopping. if i believe in myself hard enough, maybe i can be the steven tyler of the postpartum mom set.
celebreality monday.
i am letting the TV teach my children to read.
i swore i would never be 'that mom.' when we had free cable, we would limit their (or really, at that time, atticus was the only one of them watching) screen time to 20-30 minutes a couple mornings a week. now, we don't even have pbs. i've been known to fantasize that i'll homeschool using the charlotte mason method and spend hours on end reading books out loud to my enraptured children. curriculum in a box? no thanks, i'm better than that - i'm totally capable of best catering my teaching approach to each individual child and determining what i deem important for them to learn, thankyouverymuch.
i even hate 'educational' toys. not really because they're educational but because they all make noise and i hate noise. so maybe it's unfair to include that on the list.
anyway.
i caved and for atticus' birthday i got him the leapfrog letter factory video (VHS - old school) to watch in the van on the way home from town. i figured it would keep him entertained and at least have some kind of educational value. one month later, atticus can identify all the letters and most of their sounds. penelope can identify over half of her letters and quite a few sounds as well.
now, i'm probably going to start handing out pamphlets on how much i love leapfrog and how it allowed me to pass off onto someone else what i could have (and arguably should have) done myself but was just too lazy. and i'm cool with it on the inside, although i'm still a little embarrassed to admit that the full extent of their formal education has been provided by an animated frog.
i swore i would never be 'that mom.' when we had free cable, we would limit their (or really, at that time, atticus was the only one of them watching) screen time to 20-30 minutes a couple mornings a week. now, we don't even have pbs. i've been known to fantasize that i'll homeschool using the charlotte mason method and spend hours on end reading books out loud to my enraptured children. curriculum in a box? no thanks, i'm better than that - i'm totally capable of best catering my teaching approach to each individual child and determining what i deem important for them to learn, thankyouverymuch.
i even hate 'educational' toys. not really because they're educational but because they all make noise and i hate noise. so maybe it's unfair to include that on the list.
anyway.
i caved and for atticus' birthday i got him the leapfrog letter factory video (VHS - old school) to watch in the van on the way home from town. i figured it would keep him entertained and at least have some kind of educational value. one month later, atticus can identify all the letters and most of their sounds. penelope can identify over half of her letters and quite a few sounds as well.
now, i'm probably going to start handing out pamphlets on how much i love leapfrog and how it allowed me to pass off onto someone else what i could have (and arguably should have) done myself but was just too lazy. and i'm cool with it on the inside, although i'm still a little embarrassed to admit that the full extent of their formal education has been provided by an animated frog.
celebreality monday.
i have a lot of annoying and sometimes super wasteful habits. the more you live with someone else the more you realize that you're not 'quirky' like you like to think of yourself, but you're downright annoying. (i realize this not because todd says it, but because i realize if HE did these things around me i would be irritated.)
..i hardly ever finish a task or project or book from start to finish. at least without a lot of distraction and procrastination and large lapses in time in between.
..i sometimes pick my nose. there, i said it.
..i always forget to turn off the hall light. like, ALWAYS.
..i'm always behind on laundry, not because i have too much of it to keep up with, but because i hate laundry. so then stuff sits in there too long and smells like old washer water and has to be re-washed. which means it takes me even longer to get it done.
..i refuse to drink the last bit of insert-beverage-here from the bottom of the glass because in my mind it's mostly backwash.
..i refuse to drink the milk out of my cereal bowl because it's gross when it tastes like cereal.
..i don't really eat leftovers.
..i'm not super tidy and i leave my crap everywhere until it bugs todd so much he picks up after me.
..i leave half-empty glasses of water EVERYWHERE. (i'm like that kid from 'signs.')
..i spend too much time reading books and magazines and blogs and the paper and not enough time reading my bible. or reading to my children.
..noise makes me grouchy, which means i'm usually grouchy.
..i make todd wash his feet when they stink and fart in the other room, but make him rue the day he hints that my 72-hour pajama marathons are getting a bit out of control.
..i HATE taking naps, so i don't, which means that on days when i need a nap i get really and preventably unpleasant.
..i don't make the bed. ever.
i'm sure there are many, many more, and maybe i haven't even mentioned some of my worst offenders...i'm not sure. i'm really tired and i always seem less annoying to myself when i'm barely coherent. BUT. these are definitely some.
anyone else pick their nose and want to announce it on the internet? what's your most annoying habit?
..i hardly ever finish a task or project or book from start to finish. at least without a lot of distraction and procrastination and large lapses in time in between.
..i sometimes pick my nose. there, i said it.
..i always forget to turn off the hall light. like, ALWAYS.
..i'm always behind on laundry, not because i have too much of it to keep up with, but because i hate laundry. so then stuff sits in there too long and smells like old washer water and has to be re-washed. which means it takes me even longer to get it done.
..i refuse to drink the last bit of insert-beverage-here from the bottom of the glass because in my mind it's mostly backwash.
..i refuse to drink the milk out of my cereal bowl because it's gross when it tastes like cereal.
..i don't really eat leftovers.
..i'm not super tidy and i leave my crap everywhere until it bugs todd so much he picks up after me.
..i leave half-empty glasses of water EVERYWHERE. (i'm like that kid from 'signs.')
..i spend too much time reading books and magazines and blogs and the paper and not enough time reading my bible. or reading to my children.
..noise makes me grouchy, which means i'm usually grouchy.
..i make todd wash his feet when they stink and fart in the other room, but make him rue the day he hints that my 72-hour pajama marathons are getting a bit out of control.
..i HATE taking naps, so i don't, which means that on days when i need a nap i get really and preventably unpleasant.
..i don't make the bed. ever.
i'm sure there are many, many more, and maybe i haven't even mentioned some of my worst offenders...i'm not sure. i'm really tired and i always seem less annoying to myself when i'm barely coherent. BUT. these are definitely some.
anyone else pick their nose and want to announce it on the internet? what's your most annoying habit?
celebreality monday
we take weekly pictures of the pregnancy (or, rather, weekly pictures of me being pregnant, and progressively more so). we usually take three or four and then i go through and decide which one is the 'keeper,' where my hair looks nice and i don't look half stoned. this is the one i have chosen for this week:
now, for a celebreality flipideedoo: what you can't see here is that my back has been killing me, i only shower three times a week, i wear the same pajamas for 48 to 72 hours on end, and i'm kind of generally horrible to be around at times. in fact, here's a more accurate picture of what greets todd when he rushes home from work:
this was not staged. this was todd taking my picture when the light was in my eyes and we were on our way out the door to church. i wanted him to wait until the sun was higher (and therefore more photogenic and also not burning my retinas) and to all around not take my picture. he chose his own path instead. he was snarled at by his doting helpmate. hence this intimate moment between husband and wife, captured on film and forever treasured by the van voorsts.
now, for a celebreality flipideedoo: what you can't see here is that my back has been killing me, i only shower three times a week, i wear the same pajamas for 48 to 72 hours on end, and i'm kind of generally horrible to be around at times. in fact, here's a more accurate picture of what greets todd when he rushes home from work:
this was not staged. this was todd taking my picture when the light was in my eyes and we were on our way out the door to church. i wanted him to wait until the sun was higher (and therefore more photogenic and also not burning my retinas) and to all around not take my picture. he chose his own path instead. he was snarled at by his doting helpmate. hence this intimate moment between husband and wife, captured on film and forever treasured by the van voorsts.
celebreality monday.
i am not a germophobe. or anything close to it. which is kind of embarrassing to admit because i'm pretty sure that if you're a germophobe, you'll probably be disgusted at about 90% (margin of error: 10%) of what i'm about to write.
i admit to letting my kids eat days-old pretzels they find on the floor because, other than being stale, i don't really think it could really be all that harmful to their health. to make matters worse, i'm letting them eat said pretzels off of a floor that has only seen the light of mop up to three times since we moved in seven months ago. and maybe not even that many times, i really can't remember. granted, i do draw the line at letting them eat old eggs or cheese or something off the floor, but that's mainly because i'm more than 75% sure that has the slight potential of landing them in the hospital, or at least resulting in some kind of fever or sickness that i personally would rather not deal with. plus old cheese and eggs get crunchy and i'd like my kids to have a more refined palette than to settle for that. because while i'm not a germophobe, i'm hoity-toity.
when my kids scrape their knees, i maybe wash out the wound with water - maybe - and if i have tea tree oil on hand, i figure that can't hurt. but if it's out of reach, i just bandaid up the owie and call it good.
i run a big sink of water to wash my dishes in rather than using a dishwand and constantly running water, which really doesn't gross me out at all but i know some people will not be eating off my dishes now.
i clean my downstairs bathroom whenever we're having company, which is relatively frequently, so it stays relatively clean. our upstairs bathroom, however, gets cleaned when the toothpaste film on the faucet gets too noticeable for even me to ignore.
i will add a caveat and say that i'm not entirely immune to getting the germ-creeps. i do use hand sanitizer (occasionally, like in airports and stuff) and i can't stand it when, for whatever reason, public restrooms are not set up so that you can just push your way out the door or use a paper towel and throw it away while you hold the door open with your foot - Big Pharma must design target bathrooms. i know it's a little weird, but i don't think i could ever own a cat because they stand in their own litter. and don't even ask me how often i wash my hands...and counters...and dishes...and hands again when i'm working with poultry of any kind.
but really, other than weird little specifics like that, i couldn't care much less. the word "antibacterial" as a selling point for anything actually makes me kind of not want to buy that thing. and not entirely because of fears of superbugs or MRSA or whatever (although that's part of it), but more because i think someone's trying to dupe me out of my husband's hard-earned moolah. because i believe firmly, undyingly, wholeheartedly in good old soap and hot water (and white vinegar for the especially gunky goop). and while i recognize it's not enough to cut it in every scenario (please do not come anywhere near me with surgical equipment that's been sterilized with dawn dish soap), i really do think that most everyday, around-the-home, even toddler-related ick can be cleaned up with the basic, cheapo stuff people have been relying on for basically ever.
feel free to judge. and to not want to bring your children to my house. i'll understand.
i admit to letting my kids eat days-old pretzels they find on the floor because, other than being stale, i don't really think it could really be all that harmful to their health. to make matters worse, i'm letting them eat said pretzels off of a floor that has only seen the light of mop up to three times since we moved in seven months ago. and maybe not even that many times, i really can't remember. granted, i do draw the line at letting them eat old eggs or cheese or something off the floor, but that's mainly because i'm more than 75% sure that has the slight potential of landing them in the hospital, or at least resulting in some kind of fever or sickness that i personally would rather not deal with. plus old cheese and eggs get crunchy and i'd like my kids to have a more refined palette than to settle for that. because while i'm not a germophobe, i'm hoity-toity.
when my kids scrape their knees, i maybe wash out the wound with water - maybe - and if i have tea tree oil on hand, i figure that can't hurt. but if it's out of reach, i just bandaid up the owie and call it good.
i run a big sink of water to wash my dishes in rather than using a dishwand and constantly running water, which really doesn't gross me out at all but i know some people will not be eating off my dishes now.
i clean my downstairs bathroom whenever we're having company, which is relatively frequently, so it stays relatively clean. our upstairs bathroom, however, gets cleaned when the toothpaste film on the faucet gets too noticeable for even me to ignore.
i will add a caveat and say that i'm not entirely immune to getting the germ-creeps. i do use hand sanitizer (occasionally, like in airports and stuff) and i can't stand it when, for whatever reason, public restrooms are not set up so that you can just push your way out the door or use a paper towel and throw it away while you hold the door open with your foot - Big Pharma must design target bathrooms. i know it's a little weird, but i don't think i could ever own a cat because they stand in their own litter. and don't even ask me how often i wash my hands...and counters...and dishes...and hands again when i'm working with poultry of any kind.
but really, other than weird little specifics like that, i couldn't care much less. the word "antibacterial" as a selling point for anything actually makes me kind of not want to buy that thing. and not entirely because of fears of superbugs or MRSA or whatever (although that's part of it), but more because i think someone's trying to dupe me out of my husband's hard-earned moolah. because i believe firmly, undyingly, wholeheartedly in good old soap and hot water (and white vinegar for the especially gunky goop). and while i recognize it's not enough to cut it in every scenario (please do not come anywhere near me with surgical equipment that's been sterilized with dawn dish soap), i really do think that most everyday, around-the-home, even toddler-related ick can be cleaned up with the basic, cheapo stuff people have been relying on for basically ever.
feel free to judge. and to not want to bring your children to my house. i'll understand.
celebreality monday.
the bible says that women will be saved through childbearing. whut. that's kind of a crazy thing to say - really crazy, actually, if you think about it.
now, obviously it can't mean that we will get into heaven because we had a baby. first of all, that's not fair to single gals and girls with fertility issues and the few high school girls left who have kept themselves from impregnantion. second of all, the bible's clear that we are saved by GRACE alone, through FAITH alone, in CHRIST alone. (there's even a latin phrase backing me up on that one - which means i know what i'm talking about.) the bible doesn't say that we're saved by grace through faith in christ and/or by babies. if that were true, it would motivate me to be more like octomom, which is not something i think god is hoping to accomplish in my life.
but the bible does say clearly we'll be saved by having kids. and this is what i take it to mean: salvation is made up of three big words with the following overly-simplified definitions: justification (jesus taking on your sin and paying for it himself), expiation (you taking on the righteousness that only jesus earned) and sanctification (being made more closely into the image of christ). for a christian, justification and expiation happen in a moment, when christ pays for your sin and transfers his righteousness to you, but sanctification lasts the whole live-long time you walk on this earth. SO. i think what the bible is saying is that having kids is an opportunity that god uses uniquely in the lives of women to sanctify them, or to make them more like jesus.
and the thing i want to make clear through celebreality mondays is not that we should necessarily celebrate our failures, but that there is a lot of noise out there telling you what a 'good' mom is. and most of it is stuff that really doesn't matter, so it kind of doesn't matter if you suck at it. it doesn't make you more christlike, it doesn't encourage your kids to know and love jesus. and it's not that all of these things are bad: i think it's great if Joe Blow Mom loves to craft or bake or power sand furniture. it's just that those aren't the things that make a mom a good mom in the eyes of god. being forgiven in christ and seeking to be like him are the only things that make us good moms, because they align us with the only One who actually is good: christ.
so what i'm trying to say is this: do not feel like a failure if once again your house is a mess because you spent your day raising up your kids to know the lord. don't feel like if you can't sew a straight line without requiring a trip to the emergency room you're somehow failing. don't put that on yourself, because god doesn't, and it isn't fair for the world to put that on you. you are not accountable to the moms who have it all 'together'. you're accountable to god, and this is all he wants from you: the faith that leads to repentence and forgiveness in christ, and the humbleness that allows for growth in his likeness.
that seems like a shorter to-do list than the one pinterest would have me make.
now, obviously it can't mean that we will get into heaven because we had a baby. first of all, that's not fair to single gals and girls with fertility issues and the few high school girls left who have kept themselves from impregnantion. second of all, the bible's clear that we are saved by GRACE alone, through FAITH alone, in CHRIST alone. (there's even a latin phrase backing me up on that one - which means i know what i'm talking about.) the bible doesn't say that we're saved by grace through faith in christ and/or by babies. if that were true, it would motivate me to be more like octomom, which is not something i think god is hoping to accomplish in my life.
but the bible does say clearly we'll be saved by having kids. and this is what i take it to mean: salvation is made up of three big words with the following overly-simplified definitions: justification (jesus taking on your sin and paying for it himself), expiation (you taking on the righteousness that only jesus earned) and sanctification (being made more closely into the image of christ). for a christian, justification and expiation happen in a moment, when christ pays for your sin and transfers his righteousness to you, but sanctification lasts the whole live-long time you walk on this earth. SO. i think what the bible is saying is that having kids is an opportunity that god uses uniquely in the lives of women to sanctify them, or to make them more like jesus.
and the thing i want to make clear through celebreality mondays is not that we should necessarily celebrate our failures, but that there is a lot of noise out there telling you what a 'good' mom is. and most of it is stuff that really doesn't matter, so it kind of doesn't matter if you suck at it. it doesn't make you more christlike, it doesn't encourage your kids to know and love jesus. and it's not that all of these things are bad: i think it's great if Joe Blow Mom loves to craft or bake or power sand furniture. it's just that those aren't the things that make a mom a good mom in the eyes of god. being forgiven in christ and seeking to be like him are the only things that make us good moms, because they align us with the only One who actually is good: christ.
so what i'm trying to say is this: do not feel like a failure if once again your house is a mess because you spent your day raising up your kids to know the lord. don't feel like if you can't sew a straight line without requiring a trip to the emergency room you're somehow failing. don't put that on yourself, because god doesn't, and it isn't fair for the world to put that on you. you are not accountable to the moms who have it all 'together'. you're accountable to god, and this is all he wants from you: the faith that leads to repentence and forgiveness in christ, and the humbleness that allows for growth in his likeness.
that seems like a shorter to-do list than the one pinterest would have me make.
celebreality monday.
i heard somewhere once that there exists a spectrum with task-oriented people at one end and relationship-oriented people at the other. because it's a spectrum, there are varying degrees of orientation one way or the other, but people tend to fall in one of the two categories. i am task-oriented. and pretty strongly so.
there are definite advantages to this at times: my house is typically 'clean enough,' we're only rarely over our grocery budget, and i have this inherent need to cross stuff off my to-do list, which means things that need to get done actually get done. i really like feeling like i've accomplished something, and i think because of this i am a pretty quick learner and i have a really broad range of stuff i like doing.
but i also know that getting stuff done takes priority over spending time with my kids...WAY more than i'd like it to. most mornings, as i'm trying to do whatever the task is that i've decided to take on for the day, the kids are asking me to read a book or play with them and i get so annoyed at having to stop what i'm doing to just spend time with them. and i hate that about myself, honestly.
and i realize that if i keep going the same way i have, my kids are going to grow up saying things like, 'my mom did a lot for me, but she never did a lot with me' and other stuff that kids with moms like me say. and i really desperately don't want to be that mom. but to be entirely honest, i cannot relax and enjoy just hanging out with my kids until my stuff is done...which is rare, because that's the nature of being a mom to toddlers - tasks, sentences, laundry, basic hygiene routines are never ever finished, at least in a reasonably timely manner. so my kids are always pushed to the bottom of the to-do list, and i really grieve for them sometimes that that's how i orient my life. it's not fair to them.
and i get scared for when my kids are older and they have 'heart issues' that need to be addressed or confessed or counseled or whatever...because i'm completely unequipped for that. i am not a person who knows how to ask questions and understand feelings. i know how to address behavior problems - black and white, task-oriented issues. not relational issues. because i am basically (as i'm finding out) a black hole of emotion and interpersonal relating. i (like to think i) am good at hiding it, but deep down i'm pretty much socially inept.
and i would like to be better at spending time with my kids and listening and caring for their hearts rather than simply their behaviors, but i find myself too busy to even figure out how to start being this way...and sometimes i just really mourn that fact for the sake of my kids. and mostly, i just really hope that god has plans to teach me how to be different than i am because i'm not capable of turning into a more caring, more attentive, less bound-to-the-to-do-list kind of parent on my own.
and i'm also hoping i'm not the only one like this, and that i'm not just some kind of sociopath who can't function on a basic human level and desire to spend much time with my own children. so...can anyone else relate to this and/or share any wisdom?
there are definite advantages to this at times: my house is typically 'clean enough,' we're only rarely over our grocery budget, and i have this inherent need to cross stuff off my to-do list, which means things that need to get done actually get done. i really like feeling like i've accomplished something, and i think because of this i am a pretty quick learner and i have a really broad range of stuff i like doing.
but i also know that getting stuff done takes priority over spending time with my kids...WAY more than i'd like it to. most mornings, as i'm trying to do whatever the task is that i've decided to take on for the day, the kids are asking me to read a book or play with them and i get so annoyed at having to stop what i'm doing to just spend time with them. and i hate that about myself, honestly.
and i realize that if i keep going the same way i have, my kids are going to grow up saying things like, 'my mom did a lot for me, but she never did a lot with me' and other stuff that kids with moms like me say. and i really desperately don't want to be that mom. but to be entirely honest, i cannot relax and enjoy just hanging out with my kids until my stuff is done...which is rare, because that's the nature of being a mom to toddlers - tasks, sentences, laundry, basic hygiene routines are never ever finished, at least in a reasonably timely manner. so my kids are always pushed to the bottom of the to-do list, and i really grieve for them sometimes that that's how i orient my life. it's not fair to them.
and i get scared for when my kids are older and they have 'heart issues' that need to be addressed or confessed or counseled or whatever...because i'm completely unequipped for that. i am not a person who knows how to ask questions and understand feelings. i know how to address behavior problems - black and white, task-oriented issues. not relational issues. because i am basically (as i'm finding out) a black hole of emotion and interpersonal relating. i (like to think i) am good at hiding it, but deep down i'm pretty much socially inept.
and i would like to be better at spending time with my kids and listening and caring for their hearts rather than simply their behaviors, but i find myself too busy to even figure out how to start being this way...and sometimes i just really mourn that fact for the sake of my kids. and mostly, i just really hope that god has plans to teach me how to be different than i am because i'm not capable of turning into a more caring, more attentive, less bound-to-the-to-do-list kind of parent on my own.
and i'm also hoping i'm not the only one like this, and that i'm not just some kind of sociopath who can't function on a basic human level and desire to spend much time with my own children. so...can anyone else relate to this and/or share any wisdom?
celebreality monday.
i have been putting off showing you pictures of the inside of our house because, well, it's bad. i don't think i was prepared for how long it would take to nestle in and make it 'home.'
i have been tempted to post photos of our kitchen because it's the closest to being done - for now at least. (i like changing things up every once in a while, so in a year or two we might change the paint or something.) but for now, it's the room that i feel most comfortable showing to people and not thinking they're judging me for being way spartan and also having no taste.
that being said, i still haven't posted pictures because there are stupid little things i want to finish first. but i figured i'm just going to leave those things undone and post pictures anyway.
BUT THEN i decided that i'll post them on a different day, because if we're really going to get into the nitty-gritty reality of the state of my house, i should first introduce you to the three most horrifying rooms here.
taking the bronze, we have the craft room/play room/office. otherwise known as the disaster zone/dumping ground/bane of my existence.
taking the silver, we have the living room. this room is rarely messy because it is rarely used. it is sparse and the same horrible yellow-brown-cream color as the rest of the house (don't let the pictures fool you. the true-to-life color is reminiscent of sick people skin.) so i took it upon myself to find a friendly color to paint it instead. seven-paint-swatches-on-each-wall later i have decided that blue is not the color for this room. also, seven paint swatches later, the old lady across the street asked me if i let the kids paint the living room. these are the conditions in which i've been living.
up against that orangey trim, all blues look way nursery-y. so it will be getting a coat of the same grey-beige as the kitchen. someday, when i have time and money to paint it...so, don't hold your breath. also, i would like to point out that in addition to the actual patches of paint on the wall, i have loads of paint chips taped to paper taped to the wall. i have had a hard time making decisions lately... also, that plant that looks dead actually is halfway there. i really am a nurturer of things.
AND PROUDLY TAKING HOME THE GOLD MEDAL....OUR BEDROOM! i like to affectionately think of this room as the 'febreze room.' not because it smells good or makes you think you're in a rolling meadow, frollicking along the clovered hillside like you feel when you snort febreze. no, i call it that because it reminds me of those febreze commercials where they blindfold people and take them into some landfill of a room and take their blindfolds off and the people are like, omg where are we are we about to die.
actually, let's get really realistic and see how it looks on a normal day when i don't take pictures of it to post on the internet:
i have been tempted to post photos of our kitchen because it's the closest to being done - for now at least. (i like changing things up every once in a while, so in a year or two we might change the paint or something.) but for now, it's the room that i feel most comfortable showing to people and not thinking they're judging me for being way spartan and also having no taste.
that being said, i still haven't posted pictures because there are stupid little things i want to finish first. but i figured i'm just going to leave those things undone and post pictures anyway.
BUT THEN i decided that i'll post them on a different day, because if we're really going to get into the nitty-gritty reality of the state of my house, i should first introduce you to the three most horrifying rooms here.
taking the bronze, we have the craft room/play room/office. otherwise known as the disaster zone/dumping ground/bane of my existence.
i had all kinds of intentions to cutesy up this room and do sewing and craft projects all the live long day. instead, i have a sewing table full of crap with no home, an on-loan dehydrator on the floor to use when processing all the apples i bought a month ago and should have had done by now, and window treatments that are wonky 100% of the time because the kids like to stand at that window and watch the cars go by.
the toy corner/office-supply-nightstand of doom. enough said.
taking the silver, we have the living room. this room is rarely messy because it is rarely used. it is sparse and the same horrible yellow-brown-cream color as the rest of the house (don't let the pictures fool you. the true-to-life color is reminiscent of sick people skin.) so i took it upon myself to find a friendly color to paint it instead. seven-paint-swatches-on-each-wall later i have decided that blue is not the color for this room. also, seven paint swatches later, the old lady across the street asked me if i let the kids paint the living room. these are the conditions in which i've been living.
AND PROUDLY TAKING HOME THE GOLD MEDAL....OUR BEDROOM! i like to affectionately think of this room as the 'febreze room.' not because it smells good or makes you think you're in a rolling meadow, frollicking along the clovered hillside like you feel when you snort febreze. no, i call it that because it reminds me of those febreze commercials where they blindfold people and take them into some landfill of a room and take their blindfolds off and the people are like, omg where are we are we about to die.
actually, let's get really realistic and see how it looks on a normal day when i don't take pictures of it to post on the internet:
ahh, yes. lovely. curtains fashioned from drapes and painter's dropcloth. a ceiling light with no cover and only a couple bulbs.
the bay window in the bedroom is identical to this one in the dining room, only without the leaded glass pane in the middle window, and with more white-trashy window treatments.
here is where penelope naps. and probably has nightmares the whole time. notice the lovely finish on the walls - that, my friends, is bare plaster. we ripped down wallpaper nearly six months ago and have done nothing to the walls since. i'm pretty sure they use walls like this to set the scene in shows about child abuse and drug addiction.
and last but not least, my classy nightstand fashioned from an old folding chair. i'm way into repurposing and shabby chic. our old nightstands were square and therefore wouldn't fit into that tiny triangle the bed left when we set it into the bay window. any creative nightstand solutions that are not made of aluminum would be well appreciated.
so there you have it. the very loveliest corners of my home. and before you even think about hyperventilating at the sight of all these photos, just think that i'm the lucky one who gets to see (and neglect cleaning) these spaces every day. don't be jealous.
celebreality monday.
to be honest, i go through spurts when i'm terrified of having another baby. the other day, i was right in the middle of the thought, 'i think two is all i can handle right now, let's maybe play the whole family-planning thing by ear for now...' when i remembered that we're already halfway through cooking kid #3. and then, of course, i panicked.
(and to quell the obvious-yet-difficult-to-ask question, yes, we did plan this pregnancy.) (and yes, it has been somewhat common for me to forget i'm pregnant.)
i was not this scared to bring penelope home, i don't think. i remember having the typical 'having-the-second-kid' fears of how i would love her as much as i loved atticus (i do), and how i would have time to give them equal attention (it takes conscious effort), and when i would ever find time to sleep (i still have no answer for that). i remember trying to anticipate difficulties like what it would be like to have two in diapers, and how i would iron out a cohesive schedule when they had different nap needs, and how i would address jealousy and rivalry if it should come up once we brought the new baby home.
but i had no idea how to anticipate how it all really played out, and looking back, i really believe i was struggling with postpartum depression for the first six months or so of penelope's life. i didn't know it at the time, although i do remember thinking that i should get some counseling or something. i just chalked it up to lack of sleep.
i had such a hard time bonding with penelope - i didn't want to look at her, i didn't want to touch her, i didn't want to hear her cry. i fed her because i had to, i put her to sleep because it was the easiest way to pretend she wasn't there. even when she was awake, she was such a good baby that she was perfectly content to lay on the floor or play in the swing, and i was perfectly happy to leave her alone to do her thing. i could hardly get myself out of bed in the morning because i dreaded having to face whatever the day ended up looking like, and i stayed up way too late at night because i dreaded having to wake up in two hours for those middle-of-the-night feedings. she had a hard time getting her nights and days ironed out at first, and i can't describe the pure anger i felt having to walk laps with her around the kitchen table, just desperate to go back to bed.
i recognized the thoughts at the time, but i knew how bad it would sound if i told anyone (including todd) that i didn't like being around, or touching, or talking to my own kid. i had no desire to hurt her or myself (the signs they say you should look for in major postpartum), but i just couldn't handle her. i couldn't handle reality. and at that point, i kept thinking, 'i will never have another baby. if todd wants a big family, we can adopt older kids, but i am never doing this again.'
looking back now, i needed help. and there were warning signs: i developed anxiety attacks and insomnia, along with depression, around 20 weeks of pregnancy, which apparently never let up. and my labor with penelope, while not medically eventful, was the exact opposite of what i had expected, and that really scared me. i had such difficulty nursing, which i didn't expect. and both a bad labor experience and difficulty nursing can contribute to postpartum.
i feel terrible looking back. i can hardly remember anything about penelope for those months; everything is a blur. i hate knowing that i thought those things about her - she's so perfect, and she was a wonderful baby...it kills me to know i thought those things about my own daughter.
and i can't do that again. i can't think those things about another kid. i can't let six months slip by where i am completely out of control. and it scares me to think that it could happen again...and i'm halfway done with this pregnancy, and all i can think is that it can't go so fast. i'm not ready to do this again. and i keep thinking of the 'what-if's.
so that's where i'm at a lot of the time with the pregnancy. happy and excited to be pregnant, but not thinking too much about the reality that pregnancy ends in birth...which results in a newborn...which scares me. i'm just happy to be pregnant for now and to have it last a while longer. in the meantime, todd and i are discussing the plan of attack for if this happens again - what are our options? are they safe? are there side effects that are even less desirable than depression? how much do they cost? when and how will we decide when it gets bad enough (if it does) to warrant some kind of intervention? who will make the decisions?
and that's all preparing for the worst-case scenario; who knows? it might not even end up being an issue at all this time around. and that's what we're praying for. and i was hoping, if you're praying kind of folk, you could pray for me too.
(and to quell the obvious-yet-difficult-to-ask question, yes, we did plan this pregnancy.) (and yes, it has been somewhat common for me to forget i'm pregnant.)
i was not this scared to bring penelope home, i don't think. i remember having the typical 'having-the-second-kid' fears of how i would love her as much as i loved atticus (i do), and how i would have time to give them equal attention (it takes conscious effort), and when i would ever find time to sleep (i still have no answer for that). i remember trying to anticipate difficulties like what it would be like to have two in diapers, and how i would iron out a cohesive schedule when they had different nap needs, and how i would address jealousy and rivalry if it should come up once we brought the new baby home.
but i had no idea how to anticipate how it all really played out, and looking back, i really believe i was struggling with postpartum depression for the first six months or so of penelope's life. i didn't know it at the time, although i do remember thinking that i should get some counseling or something. i just chalked it up to lack of sleep.
i had such a hard time bonding with penelope - i didn't want to look at her, i didn't want to touch her, i didn't want to hear her cry. i fed her because i had to, i put her to sleep because it was the easiest way to pretend she wasn't there. even when she was awake, she was such a good baby that she was perfectly content to lay on the floor or play in the swing, and i was perfectly happy to leave her alone to do her thing. i could hardly get myself out of bed in the morning because i dreaded having to face whatever the day ended up looking like, and i stayed up way too late at night because i dreaded having to wake up in two hours for those middle-of-the-night feedings. she had a hard time getting her nights and days ironed out at first, and i can't describe the pure anger i felt having to walk laps with her around the kitchen table, just desperate to go back to bed.
i recognized the thoughts at the time, but i knew how bad it would sound if i told anyone (including todd) that i didn't like being around, or touching, or talking to my own kid. i had no desire to hurt her or myself (the signs they say you should look for in major postpartum), but i just couldn't handle her. i couldn't handle reality. and at that point, i kept thinking, 'i will never have another baby. if todd wants a big family, we can adopt older kids, but i am never doing this again.'
looking back now, i needed help. and there were warning signs: i developed anxiety attacks and insomnia, along with depression, around 20 weeks of pregnancy, which apparently never let up. and my labor with penelope, while not medically eventful, was the exact opposite of what i had expected, and that really scared me. i had such difficulty nursing, which i didn't expect. and both a bad labor experience and difficulty nursing can contribute to postpartum.
i feel terrible looking back. i can hardly remember anything about penelope for those months; everything is a blur. i hate knowing that i thought those things about her - she's so perfect, and she was a wonderful baby...it kills me to know i thought those things about my own daughter.
and i can't do that again. i can't think those things about another kid. i can't let six months slip by where i am completely out of control. and it scares me to think that it could happen again...and i'm halfway done with this pregnancy, and all i can think is that it can't go so fast. i'm not ready to do this again. and i keep thinking of the 'what-if's.
so that's where i'm at a lot of the time with the pregnancy. happy and excited to be pregnant, but not thinking too much about the reality that pregnancy ends in birth...which results in a newborn...which scares me. i'm just happy to be pregnant for now and to have it last a while longer. in the meantime, todd and i are discussing the plan of attack for if this happens again - what are our options? are they safe? are there side effects that are even less desirable than depression? how much do they cost? when and how will we decide when it gets bad enough (if it does) to warrant some kind of intervention? who will make the decisions?
and that's all preparing for the worst-case scenario; who knows? it might not even end up being an issue at all this time around. and that's what we're praying for. and i was hoping, if you're praying kind of folk, you could pray for me too.
celebreality monday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO TODD VAN VOORST, the apple of my eye, the love of my life, the provider of my food, my baby daddy.
it is a shame that we are not more birthday-centric. i see families making a big deal out of birthdays, and i consistently wish we were (or more specifically, i was) more like that. i mean, in all honesty, how can i not be so profoundly grateful that the people i love were born however many years ago (ahem, thirty-three in todd's case) that i go all-out hog-wild on their birthdays? and don't get me wrong - i am deeply grateful for their births and their presence in my life. but i am not a party kind of gal. or a presents kind of gal. and not because i don't wish desperately that i was, but because i am a 'just get through today and worry about tomorrow tomorrow' kind of gal. which means i suck at forward planning, which is a necessary component of party planning and the getting of perfect presents.
just look up 'carnival party' on pinterest, for example. what planning! i would love to give my husband a ticket booth and games and a hot dog vendor and a moon bounce for his birthday. but then i'm all like, who do i even call to arrange for a ferris wheel? and then i give up and make a cake from a box and buy him another book or another translation of the bible.
and i feel guilty about that. because first of all, he deserves better than that - though delicious, funfetti cake doesn't really capture how grateful i truly am that he is in my life. second of all, i should know him well enough to be able to think of just one more-than-slightly-personal gift...
and third of all, the one that makes this my celebreality/i-suck-at-this-mom-thing post, there are tons of wives and moms who are great at this. and they're out on the internet in droves. they're all, sure i have seven kids and i homeschool and i blog full-time and i have an immaculate and beautifully decorated house and also i plan extravagant, memorable parties and i handcraft all my children's gifts. and i don't think all of these moms are faking it to boost their blog readership: i think a lot of them are actually skilled at this and truly enjoy it. and i think that's the thing that makes me feel the most guilty: i don't enjoy throwing parties and buying perfect presents, i just wish i was a person who enjoyed those things.
but then birthdays come around and i pretend for about 20 seconds that this year i will be that mom who's able to balance real life and also a budget and also fill thirty-five favor boxes with things found in the dollar section at target that are miraculously not tacky and perfectly appropriate for the theme of the party. but then the sugar high wears off and i realize that i'm so far from being that mom my kids are lucky if i write in their birthday card (penelope's one-year birthday card is still sitting in my organizing drawer, waiting to be acknowledged).
and am i screwing my family out of memories or the reassurance that they're truly loved and appreciated? in all honesty, maybe i am. but a lot of the time (not all, but a lot) i think the guilt i feel has less to do with how i'm communicating love to my family and more to do with how i measure up to other moms who are doing it way better than i am. and a little of the guilt is really only jealousy that they get to post their beautiful pictures for all the world to ogle at, and also they get to jump on their own moon bounce.
but unless one of my kids turns out to possess the love language of high-falutin' parties and they need their 'love tank' filled in that way (gary chapman's words, not mine) i can be okay with showing my family love and appreciation in the ways i'm specially wired to be able to do... whatever those are. and i can let go of how ironic i find it that god in all his humor did NOT make me 'paige, planner of parties and purchaser of perfect presents.' the alliteration and truthfulness of it all would knock the wind out of 50% of people, i'm sure.
so i do my best for birthdays around here: i bake something special. i invite family over for our kids' parties. we have our own special little traditions, like carving pumpkins for todd's birthday. and i try to let go of my feeling of failure for not being Carnival Party Mom.
because, i'll just say it, i suck at being a birthday mom. and as long as my family is okay with it, i have to be okay with it.
**just a note: tomorrow is the last day to cast your prediction of New Kid on the Block's gender. we'll announce the ultrasound results and the winner of the mystery prize on wednesday.
it is a shame that we are not more birthday-centric. i see families making a big deal out of birthdays, and i consistently wish we were (or more specifically, i was) more like that. i mean, in all honesty, how can i not be so profoundly grateful that the people i love were born however many years ago (ahem, thirty-three in todd's case) that i go all-out hog-wild on their birthdays? and don't get me wrong - i am deeply grateful for their births and their presence in my life. but i am not a party kind of gal. or a presents kind of gal. and not because i don't wish desperately that i was, but because i am a 'just get through today and worry about tomorrow tomorrow' kind of gal. which means i suck at forward planning, which is a necessary component of party planning and the getting of perfect presents.
just look up 'carnival party' on pinterest, for example. what planning! i would love to give my husband a ticket booth and games and a hot dog vendor and a moon bounce for his birthday. but then i'm all like, who do i even call to arrange for a ferris wheel? and then i give up and make a cake from a box and buy him another book or another translation of the bible.
and i feel guilty about that. because first of all, he deserves better than that - though delicious, funfetti cake doesn't really capture how grateful i truly am that he is in my life. second of all, i should know him well enough to be able to think of just one more-than-slightly-personal gift...
and third of all, the one that makes this my celebreality/i-suck-at-this-mom-thing post, there are tons of wives and moms who are great at this. and they're out on the internet in droves. they're all, sure i have seven kids and i homeschool and i blog full-time and i have an immaculate and beautifully decorated house and also i plan extravagant, memorable parties and i handcraft all my children's gifts. and i don't think all of these moms are faking it to boost their blog readership: i think a lot of them are actually skilled at this and truly enjoy it. and i think that's the thing that makes me feel the most guilty: i don't enjoy throwing parties and buying perfect presents, i just wish i was a person who enjoyed those things.
but then birthdays come around and i pretend for about 20 seconds that this year i will be that mom who's able to balance real life and also a budget and also fill thirty-five favor boxes with things found in the dollar section at target that are miraculously not tacky and perfectly appropriate for the theme of the party. but then the sugar high wears off and i realize that i'm so far from being that mom my kids are lucky if i write in their birthday card (penelope's one-year birthday card is still sitting in my organizing drawer, waiting to be acknowledged).
and am i screwing my family out of memories or the reassurance that they're truly loved and appreciated? in all honesty, maybe i am. but a lot of the time (not all, but a lot) i think the guilt i feel has less to do with how i'm communicating love to my family and more to do with how i measure up to other moms who are doing it way better than i am. and a little of the guilt is really only jealousy that they get to post their beautiful pictures for all the world to ogle at, and also they get to jump on their own moon bounce.
but unless one of my kids turns out to possess the love language of high-falutin' parties and they need their 'love tank' filled in that way (gary chapman's words, not mine) i can be okay with showing my family love and appreciation in the ways i'm specially wired to be able to do... whatever those are. and i can let go of how ironic i find it that god in all his humor did NOT make me 'paige, planner of parties and purchaser of perfect presents.' the alliteration and truthfulness of it all would knock the wind out of 50% of people, i'm sure.
so i do my best for birthdays around here: i bake something special. i invite family over for our kids' parties. we have our own special little traditions, like carving pumpkins for todd's birthday. and i try to let go of my feeling of failure for not being Carnival Party Mom.
because, i'll just say it, i suck at being a birthday mom. and as long as my family is okay with it, i have to be okay with it.
**just a note: tomorrow is the last day to cast your prediction of New Kid on the Block's gender. we'll announce the ultrasound results and the winner of the mystery prize on wednesday.
celebreality monday.
here it is. the official beginning of my blog nakedness. i will say that i'm not going to get completely nude (metaphorically speaking) - while i may tell you that i haven't brushed my hair in days or that i sat so long on the toilet hiding from my kids that my legs went numb and i have a suction ring on my butt, i will not post photos of these things. or go into great detail about how badly the cellulite must've been wedged into that toilet hole (or how long i actually left my very small children unsupervised) to get such a ring. i'll leave that up to your imagination.
so this is your heads-up that mondays are about to go PG-13 for partial nudity, but for the sake of your innocence and my shame, i won't be pushing any boundaries.
here we go.
general overview of how i wish my life looked:
- peachy, porcelain skin. number one.
- that's all.
general overview of how my life actually looks:
- an almost-three-year-old with a sinus infection that i refuse to have diagnosed because it costs a hundred bucks per office visit (yeah, no copay) and i'msure desperately hoping i can avoid antibiotics by shooting some homebrew up there.
- a seventeen-month-old who has been teething for the last ten weeks and who dropped a morning nap but can't handle all the awake time.
- at least one of the kids crying, screaming, or sounding some kind of general alarm signal about 80% of the time.
- me crying, screaming, hiding, or in some other way trying to escape reality about 25% of the time.
i really wish i was one of those moms with the ability to keep my cool when everything around me is falling apart. because it feels like everything around me has been falling apart. and i gotta say, at times i feel like i'm losing it. why doesn't michelle duggar ever lose it?
somebody commented the other day on how well-behaved our kids are, and while i would say that they tend to be well-behaved as far as toddlers go, they're still toddlers. they're still at each others' throats all day long. they're still bossy to each other and tattle-y (is that a word?) when bossed. they still steal toys, demand attention, and make TONS OF NOISE and even more mess. ALL DAY. EVERY DAY. NO WEEKENDS OR HOLIDAYS OR PAID VACATION.
and i hate to think that being 'real' means just complaining about my life - my kids really are sweet and ask for hugs and want to cuddle and say 'i sowwy' after they've done something they don't want to get in trouble for. but i think i was not mentally prepared for how much energy they suck just by being toddlers - even 'good' ones. and i feel like i'm in survival mode most of the time...unable (and unwilling) to slow down and just pay attention.
i want to be better - more patient, more playful, more affectionate. less busy, less preoccupied, less snappy. i want to know how to discipline somehow other than "STOP SMOTHERING YOUR SISTER'S FACE IN THE CHAIR OR GET A SPANK!" i want to know how to not be so desperate for quiet and rest and...quiet. but this is where i'm at.
but it's been wonderful to hear god say 'my mercies are new every morning'. although, i wish he said 'my mercies are new every five minutes and then also there are bonus mercy coupons on top of that if you need them.' which i know is true (maybe not the coupon part), but it would just be nice if there was a quick little verse that said that.
what i'm finding encouraging:
- god moves on. his mercies are new.
- god plans ahead - i won't always suck so bad if he has anything to do with it.
- god promises stillness and rest and quiet if i'm willing to find it in him.
- my house has a lot of hiding places for times of pure desperation.
- maybe my resurrection body will have peachy, porcelain skin. or maybe adult cystic acne will be the 'in' thing in heaven.
so this is your heads-up that mondays are about to go PG-13 for partial nudity, but for the sake of your innocence and my shame, i won't be pushing any boundaries.
here we go.
general overview of how i wish my life looked:
- peachy, porcelain skin. number one.
- that's all.
general overview of how my life actually looks:
- an almost-three-year-old with a sinus infection that i refuse to have diagnosed because it costs a hundred bucks per office visit (yeah, no copay) and i'm
- a seventeen-month-old who has been teething for the last ten weeks and who dropped a morning nap but can't handle all the awake time.
- at least one of the kids crying, screaming, or sounding some kind of general alarm signal about 80% of the time.
- me crying, screaming, hiding, or in some other way trying to escape reality about 25% of the time.
i really wish i was one of those moms with the ability to keep my cool when everything around me is falling apart. because it feels like everything around me has been falling apart. and i gotta say, at times i feel like i'm losing it. why doesn't michelle duggar ever lose it?
somebody commented the other day on how well-behaved our kids are, and while i would say that they tend to be well-behaved as far as toddlers go, they're still toddlers. they're still at each others' throats all day long. they're still bossy to each other and tattle-y (is that a word?) when bossed. they still steal toys, demand attention, and make TONS OF NOISE and even more mess. ALL DAY. EVERY DAY. NO WEEKENDS OR HOLIDAYS OR PAID VACATION.
and i hate to think that being 'real' means just complaining about my life - my kids really are sweet and ask for hugs and want to cuddle and say 'i sowwy' after they've done something they don't want to get in trouble for. but i think i was not mentally prepared for how much energy they suck just by being toddlers - even 'good' ones. and i feel like i'm in survival mode most of the time...unable (and unwilling) to slow down and just pay attention.
i want to be better - more patient, more playful, more affectionate. less busy, less preoccupied, less snappy. i want to know how to discipline somehow other than "STOP SMOTHERING YOUR SISTER'S FACE IN THE CHAIR OR GET A SPANK!" i want to know how to not be so desperate for quiet and rest and...quiet. but this is where i'm at.
but it's been wonderful to hear god say 'my mercies are new every morning'. although, i wish he said 'my mercies are new every five minutes and then also there are bonus mercy coupons on top of that if you need them.' which i know is true (maybe not the coupon part), but it would just be nice if there was a quick little verse that said that.
what i'm finding encouraging:
- god moves on. his mercies are new.
- god plans ahead - i won't always suck so bad if he has anything to do with it.
- god promises stillness and rest and quiet if i'm willing to find it in him.
- my house has a lot of hiding places for times of pure desperation.
- maybe my resurrection body will have peachy, porcelain skin. or maybe adult cystic acne will be the 'in' thing in heaven.
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