You wanna know what happens when you have a billion things that you'd like to write about, and your internet goes out for 6 days? Everything. That's what. More things than you can shake a stick at.
Maybe you have to spend 5+ hours talking to people at your ISP who were incapable of assisting you. In fairness, that was the first 3 1/2 hours. The last hour and 45 minutes were with a gentleman who didn't make me threaten to drive to his office and snap him like a twig. Shane 'I'm not the supervisor you asked for 10 times, but I'm a genius and can handle any problem you can have' needs to watch his back, however.
Maybe you have an almost threenager who refuses to stay in her own bed for the duration of the night. Maybe she will randomly appear anywhere from 2:30 am to 6 am and insist that she needs you. Perhaps she will go back to her own bed if you carry her there like a baby, sing two songs of her choice, kiss her, hug her, hug her again with a squeeeeeeeze, throw each other imaginary presents that she pretend puts down her shirt, and make sure she has Delilah. No, not Delilah, Cocoa. No, not Cocoa, Rosie. No, not Rosie, but Delilah AND Cocoa. Rosie needs to go back to her cradle. No, she can't just lay down on the floor. No, she can't be placed gently on the dresser. The cradle. The cradle. The cradle. Make sure that Cocoa and Delilah are covered up with the blankets and on the pillows, especially so that in an hour or less, they can be abandoned when said threenager shows up in your bed again.
Maybe your 5 year old son surreptitiously advises you that his daddy was married to someone else before you... in case you didn't know. Maybe when you inform him that you, too, had been married before Daddy, he will gasp and shake his head in complete disgust. He may potentially then point out that if Daddy goes to heaven to be with Jesus, that you will be a widow. But not a black widow. Because they're spiders.
Perchance your sweet husband, who has dealt with a severe spinal cord injury for almost two years, will trip over a rug in the basement and face-plant hard enough to have a golf ball sized knot on his forehead and develop numbness and tingling in his arm. To be safe, you may take your man to the emergency room and get him a CT scan which will lead to the discovery of a broken vertebrae one vertebrae down from his original injury, and a broken nose. Maybe.
It's also possible that while you're in the ER, you run into the nurse who pretty much saved your life during a miscarriage 4 and a half years ago. You could recognize him right away as the man who helped get you out of the car when you stupidly drove yourself into the ambulance bay as you lost over half your body's blood volume. You could spend a significant period of time thanking him for the care he gave you, all the while getting a level of comfort and closure you didn't know you still needed.
Maybe when you're taking your kid to school and internally raging at the fact that you are once again late, late, late getting out of the house, you come upon a truly awful wreck at the intersection that you would have likely been going through at the time of the accident if you hadn't been a little tardy.
Maybe when you sit down at your laptop, finally able to access the internet and write, you'll recognize that in the midst of chaos, God can still offer you peace. Maybe you'll grasp that your story is more than turmoil. Maybe you'll know that God has a plan...one that isn't on your schedule, that isn't the way you may do it (thank heavens), that has divine orchestration and is what is ultimately going to bring Him glory no matter what you do to try and screw it up. Maybe you were late so you weren't hurt in an accident. Maybe your husband was hurt so you could get in touch with someone who will end up helping with issues he's struggled with in his recovery. Maybe you were at that ER at that time, so you could heal a little part of you that still was scabbed over. Maybe when you thanked that nurse, he needed it more than you did. Maybe. Maybe you'll never know. Maybe you don't need to, as long as you gain some insight, or get a reminder of the great God that you serve.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
New Things
Apparently, my fitness level is equivalent to that of a ninety year old hippopotamus. I thought that running (even though I had gotten off track during the holidays) and some periodic free weights was at least sufficient to get me through one fitness class at my gym. I was mistaken. I wasn't just a little wrong, either. I was perfectly, totally, and completely incorrect.
My good friend suggested that we take a "Butts & Gutz" class at our local community center. Fun, right? Within 10 minutes of the class starting, I knew that I was ill-prepared for what was occurring. Squat repeatedly while holding weights you say? Faster? Sorry, but I've clearly been mistaken for one who actually possesses functional quadriceps. I am not.
Fifty minutes of somewhat keeping up with the instructor (and I use the term 'somewhat' VERY loosely) and I was pretty convinced that my death was imminent. As I headed down the steps to the locker room, my Jell-O legs were barely able to make it from stair to stair. I was tempted to sit down and scoot, and I may have actually tried to do such a thing, had it not been for the fact that I wasn't certain I would be able to get from the bottom step to an upright position without assistance.
The following day I could barely get out of bed. Walking around seemed to help, at least until I paused for any length of time. Sitting in a chair? Ha! To all appearances, you should be able to lower yourself in a chair rather easily. If, however, your quads, hamstrings, AND glutes are all rebelling against you, sitting should be avoided.
We are now at two days out, and the same good friend and I had the audacity to go to a Pilates class and then follow that up with a short run. My muscles were a little more loose, and that lasted for exactly 2 minutes post-run. In the mean time, I nearly rolled myself into a concussion on the large exercise ball, and laughed so hard attempting to do 'push-ups' with the ball underneath my hips that I could hardly even stay on the crazy thing. Entertaining, for sure. I'm pretty sure I made the other first-timers in class look totally fantastic... so you're welcome, ladies!
Perhaps we may try for a little Yoga Flow class tomorrow night. We shall see. I'll bet I'll make the people in that class look like the coolest, most Zen people on the planet.
My hope is that one day, my quadriceps may actually function. Perhaps I'll even have a couple of working hamstrings. You can't be too sure about these things, but I'm hopeful all the same.
Now if it's all the same to you, I think I need a nap.
My good friend suggested that we take a "Butts & Gutz" class at our local community center. Fun, right? Within 10 minutes of the class starting, I knew that I was ill-prepared for what was occurring. Squat repeatedly while holding weights you say? Faster? Sorry, but I've clearly been mistaken for one who actually possesses functional quadriceps. I am not.
Fifty minutes of somewhat keeping up with the instructor (and I use the term 'somewhat' VERY loosely) and I was pretty convinced that my death was imminent. As I headed down the steps to the locker room, my Jell-O legs were barely able to make it from stair to stair. I was tempted to sit down and scoot, and I may have actually tried to do such a thing, had it not been for the fact that I wasn't certain I would be able to get from the bottom step to an upright position without assistance.
The following day I could barely get out of bed. Walking around seemed to help, at least until I paused for any length of time. Sitting in a chair? Ha! To all appearances, you should be able to lower yourself in a chair rather easily. If, however, your quads, hamstrings, AND glutes are all rebelling against you, sitting should be avoided.
We are now at two days out, and the same good friend and I had the audacity to go to a Pilates class and then follow that up with a short run. My muscles were a little more loose, and that lasted for exactly 2 minutes post-run. In the mean time, I nearly rolled myself into a concussion on the large exercise ball, and laughed so hard attempting to do 'push-ups' with the ball underneath my hips that I could hardly even stay on the crazy thing. Entertaining, for sure. I'm pretty sure I made the other first-timers in class look totally fantastic... so you're welcome, ladies!
Perhaps we may try for a little Yoga Flow class tomorrow night. We shall see. I'll bet I'll make the people in that class look like the coolest, most Zen people on the planet.
My hope is that one day, my quadriceps may actually function. Perhaps I'll even have a couple of working hamstrings. You can't be too sure about these things, but I'm hopeful all the same.
Now if it's all the same to you, I think I need a nap.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
I started a new post yesterday about mean girls and bullies, but trying to get through it zapped every ounce of creativity I had, and I could not finish to save my life. It can really be boiled down to the following: Ladies, (especially those who tout theology and are Jesus followers) knock it off. Stop being unkind, mind your pie-hole, and remember that everything you say and do are being held under a microscope as an example of how Christian women behave. You never know how something that you don't think twice about saying or doing has impacted a non-believer, and often in a way you would be devastated to learn. End rant. I'll probably finish the initial post someday, but not today.
Today, I want lighthearted sweetness. I want something that can make me smile, maybe even laugh out loud. I want to feel anything but the overwhelming heaviness that often accompanies days like today, when it's icy cold and dreary outside.
On days like this, I can typically turn to one of my kazillion children for some type of amusement, because let's face it. They are a funny bunch. For instance, yesterday was our first day back to school from winter break for my precious kindergartener. He and his baby sister were in front of the TV before we left, telling each other how much they would miss one another while he was gone. Seriously. Holding hands and the whole nine. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I recalled the night before, when she took one of his toys which caused him to pop her in the back of the head and then call her a bully. I was reliving the tears streaming down her face..."Mommy, Cwosby called me a bu-wee." Insert racking sob here.
It had taken me 5 full minutes to figure out she said bully. At first, I thought he called her a boy. Big deal. I kept telling her that we all were well aware of the fact that she is ALL girl, all the time. Not to worry. This inspired deep sighs and eye rolls from my precious little princess. Her own mother can't understand English. The drama she is forced to endure because of inept parenting is too much for her.
On the ride to school, Kindergartener tells me "if you and Daddy miss me too much while I'm at school, just go into my room, and you'll remember me." Thanks, bud. I'll keep that in mind. I didn't tell him that I had every intention of doing some sort of jig when I got home. We'd been trapped in a house for 5 straight days at that point. Love ya, see ya, wouldn't want to be ya... peace out. That's not to say that I didn't have a sense of excitement picking him up and hearing about his day, but I did manage to suffer through.
Tonight, while I was preparing dinner for (let's be honest) the first time in a while... I noticed that my 16 year old had used his finger to write 'poop' on the microwave. Of course, it doesn't show up until the steam rises from the oven, so I have no idea how long it's been there. Classy.
Earlier this afternoon, after changing into pajamas for nap (yes, she has to have on pjs for nap, it is cause for annoyance, but a battle I've been giving up to maintain my sanity), my almost three year old was doing this jumping squat maneuver that I can not adequately put into words. When I furrowed my brow at her and asked what in the world she was doing, she said, "I'm getting all the pee out."
"WHAT?"
"Oh, mommy. I didn't pee in my pants," she scoffed.
What does that even mean? She didn't have any sort of accident...so... I mean... huh?
These things are what I shall focus on tonight. Kids being little weirdos that I so love. Making dinner for my family, even if the word 'poop' was on my microwave. 5 year olds telling jokes that make you want to slam your head into a door. The fact that every time I read The Hungry Caterpillar to my 2 year old and get to the part where "He wasn't a little caterpillar anymore. He was a big, fat caterpillar." she feels it necessary to say, "That's you, Mommy." Makes me want to "accidentally" knock her out of her bed. The giant brown eyes that look like chocolate pools when either one of my youngest two bat their long eyelashes and try to appear innocent.
I will not focus on the meanness, the cold, or the yuck that is on the news every day of the week. I will not focus on the fact that the two year old is literally digging her head into my hip as I try to finish this up, because I have exhausted her ability to be ignored. Just the light, the love that is in my household, and the friends that I've chatted with throughout my day. For now, that is just what I need.
Today, I want lighthearted sweetness. I want something that can make me smile, maybe even laugh out loud. I want to feel anything but the overwhelming heaviness that often accompanies days like today, when it's icy cold and dreary outside.
On days like this, I can typically turn to one of my kazillion children for some type of amusement, because let's face it. They are a funny bunch. For instance, yesterday was our first day back to school from winter break for my precious kindergartener. He and his baby sister were in front of the TV before we left, telling each other how much they would miss one another while he was gone. Seriously. Holding hands and the whole nine. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I recalled the night before, when she took one of his toys which caused him to pop her in the back of the head and then call her a bully. I was reliving the tears streaming down her face..."Mommy, Cwosby called me a bu-wee." Insert racking sob here.
It had taken me 5 full minutes to figure out she said bully. At first, I thought he called her a boy. Big deal. I kept telling her that we all were well aware of the fact that she is ALL girl, all the time. Not to worry. This inspired deep sighs and eye rolls from my precious little princess. Her own mother can't understand English. The drama she is forced to endure because of inept parenting is too much for her.
On the ride to school, Kindergartener tells me "if you and Daddy miss me too much while I'm at school, just go into my room, and you'll remember me." Thanks, bud. I'll keep that in mind. I didn't tell him that I had every intention of doing some sort of jig when I got home. We'd been trapped in a house for 5 straight days at that point. Love ya, see ya, wouldn't want to be ya... peace out. That's not to say that I didn't have a sense of excitement picking him up and hearing about his day, but I did manage to suffer through.
Tonight, while I was preparing dinner for (let's be honest) the first time in a while... I noticed that my 16 year old had used his finger to write 'poop' on the microwave. Of course, it doesn't show up until the steam rises from the oven, so I have no idea how long it's been there. Classy.
Earlier this afternoon, after changing into pajamas for nap (yes, she has to have on pjs for nap, it is cause for annoyance, but a battle I've been giving up to maintain my sanity), my almost three year old was doing this jumping squat maneuver that I can not adequately put into words. When I furrowed my brow at her and asked what in the world she was doing, she said, "I'm getting all the pee out."
"WHAT?"
"Oh, mommy. I didn't pee in my pants," she scoffed.
What does that even mean? She didn't have any sort of accident...so... I mean... huh?
These things are what I shall focus on tonight. Kids being little weirdos that I so love. Making dinner for my family, even if the word 'poop' was on my microwave. 5 year olds telling jokes that make you want to slam your head into a door. The fact that every time I read The Hungry Caterpillar to my 2 year old and get to the part where "He wasn't a little caterpillar anymore. He was a big, fat caterpillar." she feels it necessary to say, "That's you, Mommy." Makes me want to "accidentally" knock her out of her bed. The giant brown eyes that look like chocolate pools when either one of my youngest two bat their long eyelashes and try to appear innocent.
I will not focus on the meanness, the cold, or the yuck that is on the news every day of the week. I will not focus on the fact that the two year old is literally digging her head into my hip as I try to finish this up, because I have exhausted her ability to be ignored. Just the light, the love that is in my household, and the friends that I've chatted with throughout my day. For now, that is just what I need.
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