Bumper sticker

I saw this on a bumper sticker the other day. It took me only a few seconds to decipher the meaning and then I was so impress with how clever it was! Really got my attention, which is EXACTLY what it is supposed to do!

Anyone else want to give it a try?

My Brain Hurts

It's relatively quiet here. I can hear the sound of kids playing in the playroom, the soft buzzing of the refrigerator and very little else. After a long day of child corralling, my body is tired and I am so thankful to have this moment of peaceful respite before the dryer buzzes, the dogs need to go out and the kids want to be fed. Ohm...ohm....ohm...
As much as my body relishes in the temporary inactivity my mind shudders in the near silence. I have never been the kind of person to be able to "clear my head." I admire people who can take a few deep breaths and go to their happy place. Not me. My mind jumps from list to list, worry to worry, chore to chore, fear to fear and so on. Never quiet. Constantly buzzing. The benefit of my line of work is that it doesn't really allow for mindless or otherwise daydream or really any reflection at all. We are on the move and alert from the moment we start the day until the last little kiddo gets picked up. Any pressing matters of the head or the heart must be pushed aside because little Ms. Priss poopied in her pants or little Mr. Tough Guy got his feeling hurt. I am not complaining. Although often exhausting, there is something to be said for being able to focus solely on a group of miniature people for awhile. They can be really entertaining!
Of course what tends to happen in my case, is a massive unloading of thought and emotion when the quiet replaces the chaos.
I am a freaker-outer. Always have been. I remember very clearly in high school taking my stereo into Service Merchandise for repairs. Apparently, I was convinced that whatever was wrong with it could not be fixed and I would be left without a stereo or a really big bill. Panic set in and overwhelmed me and I lost it. My boyfriend at the time, who NEVER lost his temper EVER, turned to me with somewhat of a fearful look in his eyes and yelled, "Quit FREAKING out!!" Over 15 years later and I can still see the look on his face. Somewhere between utter annoyance and unbridled fear. Hmmm, wonder why that one didn't stick around??

I have grown up in many ways since the "Day of the Great Stereo Freak-Out," but I am sad to say I still have a tendency to allow the most negative of possibilities fill my brain and convince me of impending doom. I over-analyze every nuance of every situation. I replay conversations in my head and I attempt to hypothesize the meaning of every expression. I am an over thinker in the worst way. I can over think until there is no possibility that an outcome could ever work in my favor. Surely, I convince myself, that all is black and white and I'm just doomed. Yeh, not good. It sucks to be me when I'm doing it, but sucks even more to be anywhere within a 15 mile radius of me when it is going on.

The last couple weeks have been a time of tremendous growth and redefinition in my life. I did not intend for it to happen, but like so much in this world, it was thrust upon me. I have done my share of freaking out. I have over analyzed and obsessed. I have studied and reexamined. I have thought and I have cried and I have freaked out some more.

And now I am done. No more freaking out for me, I have decided. I'm passing the torch on this one. Hear you go, I'm too tired, your turn. My brain hurts from thinking and my heart hurts from aching and I'm just gonna take it easy now, if you don't mind. It's funny, really. I always thought the obsessive reexamining was necessary in solving the problem. I think I am learning that it is yet just another barrier. I am looking forward to seeing only one set of footprints in the sand in the coming weeks, because I know I need the lift. I am so thankful that I have Someone willing to carry me the rest of the way.

My Love is a Fire

I am a moody person. No, really, it's true. Back "in the day" I saw my moodiness as a really cool gateway into the world of everything artistic. I tried to channel all of those youthful feelings of angst into radical enlightenment. That's right, dude, life was way groovy. I could sit in my bed room for days and listen to the same Dead Cd over and over again and feel hypnotized and euphoric. It was a drugless high and I was an addict.


I really do miss those moments of being completely lost in the moment; being able to get so enraptured by something that the rest of the world ceases to exist for a little while. Recognizing how much I sound like a whacked out drug addict at this moment, I digress.

On occasion I still can get in a music fog like I once did, but never anywhere near as heady. It's hard to really have music envelop your heart and soul when at the same time you have someone in one direction yelling to have his bottom wiped while in the other direction a wrestling match over the remote control is underway. All the while the phone is ringing.
"Come here, Uncle John's Band..." yeh, it's good but let's face it- it's not the same.

I'm okay with not be a transcendental hippie anymore. Really, I am. I know there comes a time when actually "dealing" with problems, opposed to brooding over them is a more appropriate response. I can reach truth without hours of monotonous stereo play. It comes in different ways now. But, I still miss those days of endless heartfelt deliberations.

A little over a year ago Tucker and Jim built a fire pit in the backyard. You see, Janet is an absolute fire genius and my kids and I always marvel at how she can make flames come from just about nothing. In fact, I believe I once overheard one of my children telling a friend, "My Aunt Janet breathes fire." Anyway, it was a spur of the moment decision one day, that the men would take some extra brick we had lying around and try and dig out a little pit. That night we had an outdoor fire. It was spectacular!

Over the course of the past year we have used that pit more than I think anyone expected. When we have something to celebrate- let's drink beer around the fire, company in town- we should have a fire, day off from school- let's roast marshmallows by the fire...and so it goes.

I have come to realize that that impromptu fire pit has become an outlet for me much in the same way that music was all those years ago. I tenderly build a strong base in which to begin the fire, I nurture the flames by adding wood or straw, I blow from underneath the flames to keep the oxygen circulating, and I get extremely defensive and protective when anyone steps up to "really get it going." And let me tell you- Everyone seems to think they are experts in fire building. Everyone. Usually I quietly take a backseat until they reduce my fire to a pile of smoldering logs, and then I gladly reclaim my position as fire monitor.

I can sit by the fire for hours. And I mean hours. I could do nothing all day, but tend to the fire and watch as the flames dance in the air. I inhale deeply as I breathe in the smokey outside air, convinced that somehow I am breathing in rejuvenating magic. And I sit, and I sit, and I sit. If there is someone out there for me to talk to, I will. And usually the conversations are honest and open and important, as if that is all that can exist around my sacred place. If I am alone, then I am happy alone; out there just me and the fire.

I can't believe of all things in my life that would bring me to a place of peace and reflection that makeshift pit in the yard would be the one. But it has.
And I am so very thankful.

I used to believe ignorance truly was bliss.
What you don't know can't hurt you, right?
I was so wrong.

I want to be a good person. I want to be a Christ-like person. Most people who know me probably would describe as funny or crazy but probably not Christ-like. But the people who know me well; who know my heart, understand that despite my many many flaws, I want to be a GOOD person; the kind of person that is often not really easy to be.

I have been told that if you pray for patience, God will give you something to challenge your patience. I never understood this before. I do now.

I have often heard that to be a really good artist or musician you must have a gritty life history, for it is this history that you tap into to create depth in your masterpieces. I wonder if the same isn't true for growing close to God. Although I recognize that God allows everyone into His fold, it seems to be the unimanginable sufferings that people go through that solidifies or destroys their need for Christ in their life. I have always desired a close relationship with Christ. However, as the grit of life seems to be mercilessly pummelling me lately, I am convinced now more than ever, that the only way through is through Jesus Christ.

I prayed for a close relationship with God, and I have been given something that challenges that relationship. But I choose God. I come to Him as a completely lost and vulnerable person and put all my trust in Him.

There really aren't any other options.

What do you mean I'm OLD?

After a week of an absolutley wretched stomach virus, I have finally ventured outside on this beautiful, cool Georgia morning to watch Patch as he plays in the yard. As I settle myself down in a comfy porch chair, I ready myself for a few peaceful moments of clear thinking and quiet reflection. Ever the eager writer, I open my laptop to see what thoughts want to spill onto the screen as I'm enjoying the peacefulness of the birds chirpping.
And then it happens.
What the----???
OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN-
There, in my computer screen I see it. The face of my mother; not from a photo that had been previously downloaded. No, the image I saw before my eyes, was from my reflection on the screen staring back at me. My God. I have turned into my mother.

Okay, folks, nothing against my mom, because she is an attractive woman who on her worst day is still much more put together than I am on my best, BUT the fact remains that she is my MOTHER, and mothers by their very nature are OLD, which of course I most certainly am not, thank you very much.
I should have seen this coming, really. Over the past few years I have noticed the gray hairs becoming more dense, the wrinkles getting deeper and the pounds, well let's just say they seem to be sticking around these days. I have to face the facts. I'm not a kid anymore. (quick, resuscitation!! I think my heart just stopped!)
This past week we celebrated Tucker's birthday. I have been celebrating birthdays with him for a lifetime it seems, but it still was jarring to me that he was turning 35. We met as teenagers. I was under 100 pounds and had green hair. He was solid muscle and ran a bazillion miles a day. We both could eat Waffle House at 2 a.m. and then feel fine when we woke up five hours later. Our biggest fear in those days was that Tucker would be seen leaving my dorm too late at night by the Resident Director. The thought of that now is like a straight shot of prozac right to the soul! Oh, those were the days.
But, now, I am married to a 35 year old man and apparently he is married to my mother. Ouch.

We always thought we were "cool, young parents." We were; 13 years ago when we had Emily. But now we aren't cool or young. We are those people you see at the grocery store who are holding onto each other as they push their cart around, seemingly oblivious to the stragglers that are behind them whining and pushing one another.

I think the weirdest part for me is that I don't feel like "my mother." (whatever that feels like) I know Tucker doesn't feel like the ancient 35 year old that he has become either. Inside we are still the teenagers with the cute bodies and fast metabolisms.

I guess that is why it is so jarring to look in the mirror and see an "old" person looking back.

All You Need is Love

My kids have always had special "lovies" to comfort them.
Emily had Bobby and Barney. Bobby is the tattered remains of what used to be a beautiful white knit blanket, and of course Barney is, well, a Barney stuffed animal she got when she was very small. Her entire life she has hung onto Barney and Bobby as if they were her lifesavers, and one lovie is never far from the other.
Then came Lou. She was given a pig beanie baby from my brother when she was four months old. She was addicted to Piggie like nothing I have ever seen. She constantly toted that stinky piggie around with her and her "tough lovin" of him required many a snout and hoof replacement. It got to the point where her addiction to her Piggie became so severe we actually had to take him away. It seemed, as long as Piggie was in the general vicinity, Lou was reduced to nothing more than a comatose child; a mere vegetable. So in an effort to have her participate in the world, we had to send Piggie on a little trip, as we have told her. She has a few other favorites that keep her company, but thankfully no other creates such an intoxication as did Piggie.
When I was early pregnant with Charlie I attended a craft fair where I purchased a homemade baby quilt. I was attracted to the quilt because it incorporated a frog fabric within it, and Tucker's family has always likened him to a frog. (another story for another day) But the colors in the quilt were very untypical for a baby and certainly not baby girl colors. At the time, we had no idea what I was carrying, but took our chances. To this day, Charlie carries his Froggie Blanket with him from room to room as he plays. He must have been sending me telepathy through my womb that day telling me to buy it.
Patchy became attracted early on to a yellow waffle weave receiving blanket that I believe we got when Emily was born. He would clutch it in his tiny fists as a newborn and it became so clear early on that he loved it, that we went out and bought a duplicate. He received a stuff duck for Christmas one year that also has begun to join the ranks of ultimate loviehoood. So now a happy Patchy usually requires two "Yellows," as we so appropriately have named them, and a Duckie. Okay, I'm definitely noticing our lovie names are not creative in the least, oh well.

So we are a family that appreciates the need for lovies and realizes that sometimes nothing can fix a problem quite the way a designated lovie can. Imagine our surprise when we realized our sweet little Lida, too, had a special lovie. It became clear early on to the kids that any tiny stuffed animal was fair game for Lida. Lo' and behold she found "Baby." (I know, again with the creative names...) Baby is a small white stuffed puppy with brown ears. Baby originally came from a kids meal, as did the 2 other identical dogs that are somewhere in the house. But Lida has adopted this Baby as her very own. Oh, and believe me, she knows the difference between her Baby and one of the impostor Babies. She carries Baby in her mouth from room to room and gently and lovingly licks her clean. After she deems her sweet Baby is all clean, the two will curl up and fall asleep; Baby tucked safely underneath Lida's arm. If Arthur, or anyone else happens to find Baby and pick her up, Lida makes it very clear that Baby is for her only.
There is something very comforting as a mother, to know that your children (or puppies) feel such solace in these items. Sometimes I think if all of the world's leaders just had a really good blankie, then perhaps everyone would be a little better off.

I SO Didn't Think I was THAT Girl...

My heart hurts. It hurts the way you feel after you find out a person who you really thought you knew, turns out to be someone entirely different. The worse part is that I AM that person I thought I knew.
I have always really taken issue with people who talk behind other people's backs. I subscribe to the "if you have something to say, say it to my face" theory. I work entirely with women, and over the years there has been lots of hurt feelings over things people have said; I, myself, feeling victimized by the shushes and whispers. I couldn't understand why anyone would ever be so cowardly as to not be upfront with another.
It seems, I have learned, that I am a talk the talker but not so much a walk the walker. (No pun was intended in that talk part) I really hurt someone's feelings today when she learned that I had criticized something she had done to other coworkers. Not only did my words wound her, but it made her doubt herself and her relationships with her coworkers. She was really hurt--and I was the reason. I certainly didn't want to hurt her, but I did the very thing I have railed against for years and really upset her. I consider this person a friend who I have a lot in common with, but I may have potentially ruined a friendship because I failed to meet my own standards.
I apologized to her, but it did not make her feel better. The damage had already been done. She was betrayed by a friend she thought she knew. I know how she feels, and it really sucks.
So, here I am. I am ashamed. I thought I knew myself better than this. I thought I was an upfront, say what's on my mind kinda person. I love deeply and I detest deeply but my feelings have always been out there for everyone to see. Apparently not. I really got a reality check today.

I am not the person I want to be and certainly not the person God wants me to be. I know who that person is, but I am far from her. I know I will be forgiven, even if my friend doesn't chose to forgive me. I know God will give me more chances to face temptation and reject it. I know there will be other times in my life where I will let myself and others down, but those times need not to be the legacy of who I am.

I have a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing there is someone, whom I care for, right now hurting because of me. I wish I could run away from this feeling, but I can't. I can't erase my words or my actions so I guess I'll just have to move forward with this day behind me. I pray for the Holy Spirit's guidance through the day to day challenges that become a jungle near impossible to navigate through.
I SO didn't think I was THAT girl.