Me and George W. - we got a good thing goin'!

I really truly enjoy George W. Bush. I may not always agree with his policies, or actions. But I do believe he loves the Lord with a depth and sincerity the White House has not seen in centuries. He is a genuine human being, who makes mistakes. But I am proud of our President, warts and all, in a way that I can not say about previous Presidents.

One of the "warts" I especially enjoy is the way Bush communicates. Why? Because I do the same exact thing! But instead of just giving a few good friends another laugh, Bush is made out to be an idiot.

Now mind you, I feel passionately about the English language. I love it. I have a degree in it, for goodness sake. I most especially love vocabulary, and it can really grate on me when words are used incorrectly. But I sincerely enjoy idioms that are misplaced, or mangled in delivery. I have a penchant for it myself. For instance, while trying to get my head around a certain expression in our vernacular I finally blurted out,

"You know, I am an animal of routine."

Christopher stared long and hard at me, expecting my second head to pop out at any moment. When it didn't, he said, "What are you talking about?" I, of course, was stunned that he was not more educated in colloquialisms, but assumed it had something to do with that computer degree. Then I realized my own blunder, and between gasping for breath from laughing so hard restated my position.

"I am a creature of habit."

You can imagine how relieved he was that I did not have a second head. But only Christopher truly appreciated our little moment because it was not aired nationally during a televised debate for nuclear disarmament. If it had been, the following poem would surely apply to me.

MAKE THE PIE HIGHER by George W. Bush

I think we all agree, the past is over.
This is still a dangerous world.
It's a world of madmen and uncertainty
and potential mential losses.

Rarely is the question asked,
Is our children learning?
Will the highways of the Internet become more few?
How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.
I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.
I know that the human being and the fish can coexist.
Families is where our nation finds hope,
where our wings take dream.

Put food on your family!
Knock down the tollbooth!
Vulcanize society!
Make the pie higher! Make the pie higher!


You go George! I am right behind ya.

Red

Leah wakes up every morning wearing nothing but her diaper. It should not be supposed that she goes to bed every evening in this same state. I distinctly remember watching a cute, fuzzy, pajama'ed girl get carried upstairs by Daddy just last night. If memory serves, it was the curly-haired one, which can only mean Leah. So what happened to her clothes?

I asked her this morning.

"Leah, why don't you have any clothes on?"

"Ummmm, red."

"You took your jammies off because of red?"

"Yep, red."

"Do you like red?"

"No."


I am not sure which of us will need more therapy.

Sick and Tired

You hear that phrase a lot. I don't personally like it, and don't generally say it very much. Although I am guilty (what parent isn't?) of resorting to it when my children have pushed the boundary too far.

I am sick and tired of... fill in the blank -
clothes on the floor.
dishes being left out on the counter.
cleaning up after your messes.

But right now, I must tell you, that I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. This particular pregnancy has really wiped me out - and we are only in week 11! Seriously, I have never experienced morning sickness like this in my life. I have never been this fatigued, this exhausted, this unable to consistently cope with the affairs of my household. It is epidemic.

Why am I sharing all this? Well, besides the subtle, and maybe not so subtle cry for prayer, understanding or encouragement *wink*, I am learning that I can only be responsible for what God calls me (often through my husband) to take care of, and not what anyone else thinks I need to be doing. It is a liberating freedom to know that I am not responsible for managing the expectations of everyone in my sphere of acquaintanceship. The problem is that I continue to battle laying hold of this truth and walking in it. So rather than taking the nap when I should, I push myself to take care of something less important, become stressed and irritated, feel lousy, and bite my children's little heads off. YIKES!

In our society this is what is said about moms... They should be able to:
~~make 4-course home cooked meals every night.
~~keep all the laundry pressed, folded and delivered to each drawer and shelf in the home in a timely manner (that means Caleb's favorite shirt should be clean every day).
~~plan spontaneous outings while simultaneously manage to be organized for every foreseeable circumstance.
~~sing 3 originally composed lullabies for the baby every day.
~~read great works of literature to older children, and explain all the nuances of plot, vocabulary, context, and larger life applications for each sentence.
~~sew a minimum of 1/2 the households clothing, or if this is impractical spend countless hours searching second-hand and clearance marked racks at stores to always bring her family the deals.
~~maintain personal beauty and health through regular visits to the gym, hair salon, manicurist and beauty supply store (spending a total of $10 per year).
~~be willing and available to meet every need within her children, relatives, husband, friends and the local girl scout troop trying to raise funds which, incidentally, will cease to exist without her help (well, maybe the cookie drive isn't that hard).

Did I mention stay sane?

Ha!

The list could go on and on. Moms working outside the home, moms home educating, moms with sick little ones who need special care, moms running a home without a husband, moms trying to keep it all together.

One of the blessings I wanted when I met Christ was the, "my burden is easy and my yoke is light." Do you feel that way regularly? A book I am reading shared an invaluable insight about this struggle, in women particularly. Jesus was alive for about 33+ years. He died before Rome was overthrown, world peace attained, and all the crippled, blind, broken people healed. That is quite a laundry list to leave for tomorrow... especially as a perfect man capable of doing all those things in a single breath. So what gives?

Very soon before Christ's arrest, and final crucifixion he says to God, "I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do." (John 17:4). WOW. So God didn't intend for him to take care of all the things that were left undone, even when his own disciples thought he was not nearly finished.

Whose expectation am I fulfilling? Am I caught up in people-pleasing and not God-pleasing? What is more important, a calm and rested spirit with a few things to do around the house, or an immaculate home with an irritated attitude and sad little children? I know the answers to these questions. But subtly it is easy to see how others, while believing the "right" answers too, still place expectation on you to do it all.

Well, I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. And since there is not a dern thing I can do about being sick and tired physically, I am going to do whatever I can emotionally, and spiritually to stay healthy. And that might just mean you get to come over and see my laundry sitting in piles waiting to be folded. I am not going to feel guilty any more! *wink*

P.S.

I am typing at nearly 45 words per minute so far! You needed to know that in order to make it through your day.

I Was Hit

I received this little ditty in my inbox today, and thought I would pass it along for all moms to enjoy.... consider yourself "hit".

PRETTIEST MOM
You've been hit as a very pretty Mom

Before I was a Mom-
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry about whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom -
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom-
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom-
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put them down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew this was what it would feel like to love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom-
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom-
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.

Can't See Me

Our darling daughter Leah loves to get into trouble. Mostly she just wants to do things her way, and not worry about things like... rules. She is by FAR our most precocious child. Her latest doing is not only hysterical, but applicable to our lives as well.

Leah can not understand that the dirt in our backyard is off-limits.

Now, a bit of story here so you can fully appreciate this boundary. When we first moved into our home the back was literally bark. The previous renters did not want to bother with yard work, so they laid down black gardening tarps, covered those with redwood bark, and left a small perimeter around the fence for a "planter" (that was overgrown with weeds). It was probably nice when they first did it, but by the time we moved in the bark had deteriorated, exposing much of the tarp and underlying dirt. It was filthy. The kids could not play outside because they would get splinters from the bark, and come back inside absolutely covered in wood chips and dirt. We decided very early to replace the bark with grass. So a few months after we moved we paid to have the backyard sod with grass - from one end to the other. No planters. No decorative borders. I wanted only grass for clean, soft outdoor fun. However, we (mistakenly) did not sod a small strip on the far side of the yard where the picnic bench sat. It was only some 3x9 foot long stretch, and between our large smoker, and picnic bench it was covered. I didn't want to pay for grass that would just die from lack of sun. I should have gotten rid of the smoker and picnic bench for the sod. It could have saved me so much heartache. But then, you would not have this story. See, God really does work all things out for the good of those that love him. All of this to say, the tiny strip of dirt has never ceased to be a constant struggle with the kids staying OUT OF IT. Back to the story...

Last night Leah was using a small cup to scoop dirt up and then dump it at a different location in the yard. I watched her from our family room and called out that she needed to stop; the dirt was off-limits.

She did it again. I warned her that she would be spanked if she continued playing in the dirt. She dropped the cup and left the scene - for three minutes.

The next thing I see, Leah has picked up the cup and is moving towards the dirt again. I have a clear view and I watch her intently. She glances towards me and we make eye contact. We both know what she is trying to do. Now, get this... instead of dropping the cup and walking away, (like any of my other children would do) Leah proceeds to place her entire left hand over her eyes so she can not see me. Then, never turning her back to me, she works her way over to the dirt, bends over and, keeping her eyes covered so she can not see me, fills the cup with dirt!

I, of course, went immediately outside to stop her latest rebellion, but because her eyes were covered she did not see me come near her. When she thought she was a safe enough distance away from the actual deed she lowered her hand and literally started when she saw me standing not two feet from her. She dropped her cup and said, "You not spank me?"

Yep. She got spanked.

But don't we do the same thing? I was telling my mom and dad what happened, when my mom said, "Kind of like what we do with God. We think if we don't look at him, he can't see us."

I am trying to take my hand away from my eyes today so I notice the "warning look" BEFORE I get spanked.