A Tutu Giveaway!!!

I'm so excited I can hardly stand it! I only wish it was for an adult size tutu. If, say, it were, this is the one I'd choose. Plum Poof. I even like the way that sounds.

If, however, you have a little girl, oh the sweet joy she would know to win one of these absolutely, most-stupendously adorable tutus! Oh y'all! They are some cute! My daughter would squeal, and then dance all day!


Aqua/Mint Poof


Milk Chocolate Satin - Be still my beating heart.


Bubble Gum


Candy Apple Red Satin - This will probably be my choice, if I'm chosen.


Sassy Pink Poof - sassy indeed.

Jennifer has some of the cutest things in her shop. They almost make me wish I was six again. Almost.

Go see for yourself at Little Piddles. Check out all of the Be Jeweled tutus and leave a comment. Maybe you'll win. I hope not though. Because I want to win. :)

Works for Me Wednesday

I've never participated in this before. Mostly because I couldn't think of any handy tips to share, but now I remember that I do actually have one!

Our little Sugarhead used to get ear infections ALOT. Several times a year. Every time she was checked out and her ears were (again) infected, her then-Dr. would prescribe a round of antibiotics. And did I mention she got them alot? Grrrrr. I got so sick of it. I firmly believe that she got so many infections because of all of the antibiotics, but that's a whole 'nother post. Not for today. And on top of that, every time she took antibiotics she got an angry yeast infection that made everyone in our house miserable.

And angry.

I was so frustrated - and I thought, there has to be some other way to treat these things without the subsequent nightmare! I wanted something that worked, and would still allow us to be shiny happy people. Something I could feel good about.

And then...

A while back, I picked up a GREAT book at a library book sale called The Complete Book of Essential Oils & Aromatherapy. It probably cost me about $1. It has been a wealth of knowledge for me. I found me a diamond in the rust y'all.

Anyway, back to the story at hand.

Inside my little gem, I found a remedy for ear ache/infection. And you know what? It works!! Every time. Without fail. Hallelujah!! And NEVER since I've started using this have we ever had to treat an infection with antibiotics again. Ever. And let me also add, she gets them SUBSTANTIALLY less often now, too. I can't even remember the last time she had one. It's truly amazing. And I am one happy mama to have this in my bag o tricks.

So here it is:
Warm a teaspoon of olive oil and add to it, 3 drops of tea tree oil and 2 drops of lavender. Blend well; soak a cotton ball in this, and squeeze the oil into the infected ear(s). (You could use the cotton ball as an ear plug, but I don't.)

**Note: Make sure you use 100% pure essential oils. I buy mine at our local health food store.

For more WFMW ideas, go see Shannon at Rocks In My Dryer. You just might learn sum'in.

Where are the talent scouts when you need 'em?

I don't know how y'all decorate eggs in your house, but I feel quite confident that some of our gems could win some awards.

As fate would have it, some of them did.

We had so much fun!! We saw, too, that some of our peeps had buried talents. It was great to see all the abilities in our family. It's not fair though really, all the talents we have. It's an uneven portion in comparison with other people. Apparently we're God's favorite children, and He loves us more than the rest of His created beings. The last category pictured here is just further proof that we were in fact given more than a double portion of skillz.


"Egg plant" - Most Creative Egg WINNER

"Sheep" and "Sumo" - Most Creative Egg contestants

"Snuggle Bunny" - another Most Creative Egg contestant. It's an egg dressed up in a felt bunny costume. (I made this one)

"Sleepy Eyes" - Ugliest Egg contestant.
Stretch made this beauty. It's a mid-yawn person who just woke up and has an excessive amount of mucous (or as some call it, "sleep") in their eyes.
Ugly. Gross. Yes.
I know.

"Bad Toupee" - Ugliest Egg WINNER
In case you're wondering, that is hair.

Yes, human hair.

Which is clearly why it was voted Ugliest. And it's also why we screamed in horror when we saw it. As you can see, my Father-in-law is a very, very talented man. Maybe God loves him the most.

**Edited: I think it should also be noted (I forgot to mention this before) that my brother-in-law had this same idea! Sick. I know. Only he ran out of day, and therefore didn't have the time to actually put it all together. Dem boys are somethin' else. I believe my other clever brother-in-law said it best. "The egg doesn't fall far from the tree."

I have sunk (sank)(sunken) to a new low.

I was confused.

My mind was clouded by the deal... How could I pass on five boxes of cereal for $10 plus a free dozen eggs?? Isn't that obviously the right choice? More food for less money?? So what if we take issue with corn syrup and crack for breakfast. It's a good deal. Right? And although I usually stand strong, face like flint, against these kinds of attacks, this time I caved. And because I was blinded, I made the drive to Albertson's. I huddled my poor, innocent by-standers children into the beastly, cumbersome and too-small-for-Sweet Pickle's-legs car, and I somehow managed to maneuver my way to the cereal aisle without knocking over any endcap displays, although my CARt seemed like something from hell sent to ruin me. It was a miracle that was equal to or greater than the parting of the Red Sea.

I should've just walked away. I was taken by the Crack-Cereal Giants, LLC. These were the "Great Deal" options I was offered they were pushing, and what I ultimately brought home:

Cookie Crisp Colossal Toothrot
Berry Burst Cheerios Freezedried Toothrot
Cinnamon Toast Crunch Toothrot Squared
(not pictured) Curves Honey Wheat flakes
(not pictured) Curves Whole Wheat something or others

I understand that these choices, with the possible exception of the last two, don't even qualify as food items. But who wants to eat five boxes of boring flakes? Not me, I can tell you that much. And not anybody else in this house either. They probably won't even eat a bowl. I'll be the only one eating my Curves away.

So you see how I got myself into this then?

My dear sweet precious, precious family,
I'm so sorry. Never again will Mama purchase such cheapness and try to pass it off on you as food. I don't know what came over me. I wasn't myself. I don't even know that person. We're takin' it back to the old school, and we'll be going back to cereals I can feel good about feeding you. I know I can do better than this!! I know other people eat this stuff. Please forgive me, and just let me eat the rest of the Cookie Crisp. It's not good for you.
Sincerely,
Mama

Puddin'

Because why do now what I can put off till later...

My friend Teresa at A Life at Home tagged me (which is always flattering, so thank you Mama T). I love to fill out a survey, and procrastination agrees with me too (not really, that's not true).

Anyway, here we go.

What I was doing 10 years ago:
The year was 1998. I was failing out of college- completely strung out on drugs, estranged from my parents, and I needed to rest, and to eat, and I needed rescuing. Thankfully, that day was soon approaching, because in October of 2000, Jesus (my Superhero) stepped in and saved the day - but not before drug rehab and jail (because apparently I wasn't finished partying like it was 1999).

I'm very glad to have all of that behind me now.

5 Things on my To Do List today:
1) Watch TV!! This is the most exciting part of today's list. No contest. Why? You ask. Because. I answer. Thursday's are my favorite TV night. Because look at what plays! The Office, Survivor, and The Apprentice! Great stuff.
2) Make a few phone calls - pertaining to making and spending money.
3) Take care of Puddin's pink eye. Or, pink eyes rather.
4) Scale Laundry Mountain.
5) Cook supper. And then eat it.

Snacks I Enjoy:
I think my love for Earl Gray tea has been well documented here. As has my undying devotion to feta cheese. So I think it goes without saying, those would qualify as things I "enjoy".

Things I would do if I were a Billionaire:
It's impossible to say exactly what I would do with all of it, but here's a general idea. First, I would see to it that we were instantly and entirely debt-free. I would give a lot of it to kids who need sponsors (like Mission of Mercy, or Compassion International) and to efforts like builing homes for girls they're rescuing from childhood prostitution. I would do everything I could to see those girls rescued.
Also, I would buy a bunch of stuff. The kind of stuff that is typically found in a closet. And then, I would go on some sweet trips. And then, I would buy me a personal trainer for life. And also, a personal chef so I don't have to think about how to cook stuff. And of course, I would obviously save a bunch for our kids lifetime of school tuition. Because really. It would be stupid dumb to be a billionaire and still not have money for them to get smarter.

3 of my Bad Habits:
Organizing. My bad.

Filing. My other bad.

((Cartoons by Dave Walker.))

Being responsible. My other other bad.

5 places I have lived:
All in Louisiana:
Port Barre, Ville Platte, Mamou, Eunice and Carencro. Obviously I like to list the big, prestigious ones. They really showcase where I learned to be so classy and sophisticated.

5 Jobs I have had:
Again, I just want to give y'all a broad spectrum picture of where I learned to be so cultured.
1. Taco Bell (in Franklin)
2. Taco Bell (in Eunice) Because I totally rocked at my job in Franklin, I got the ever-coveted transfer to the Taco Bell in Eunice when we moved. I was um, Grandfathered in. Because like I said, skill. Talent. Charisma. Savoir faire. I had it all.
3. That two days at the mail warehouse.
4. Personal Trainer to the stars.
5. Sandwich Maker Extaordinaire, Etc. at a local health food store here in Lafayette (which I credit with my love for health food)

I'm not gonna tag anyone else this time, since I just tagged a few people for a meme not too long ago. So the buck stops here.

Unless I become a billionaire.

Anybody else want to glean from my wisdom?

My friend Holly has told me recently that she often hears herself saying, "How does Jodie do it?" She, for obvious reasons (as you will soon see) views me as a very patient mother of well-behaved children. Just so happens we had an incident this week to illustrate my great prowess (exceptional or superior ability, skill, or strength). I emailed her this story.

(clears throat)

One day after school I had a great idea. I'm gonna take the kids to Dollar Tree for a treat. They love Dollar Tree. I'm a great mom. I'm creating happy feelings and memories in the hearts of my children. Puddin's exhausted, so he's gonna sleep. So really, I'll just have two of them to take care of. This is gonna be fun.

So we get there. In the parking lot, I kill the engine. I turn to them and give them "the talk".
There will be no running in the parking lot, as running in the parking lot is very dangerous.
We will hold hands when we walk into the store, as not holding hands is dangerous because of the other cars in the parking lot.
When we get into the store if you behave you each get one treat. If you don't obey Mama, there will be no treats.
We're gonna look at the toys, and there are some things Mama wants to look at too.
And you're gonna stay by the basket. No running ahead.
Okay?
Yes.
Yes ma'am?
Yes ma'am.

Gooood. I'm confident that we will have a good time. It's gonna be fun. (still delusional)

We get out of the van and things are going pretty well. When we walk in I have to reign them in from the stuffed teddy bears at the entrance and say (again), "remember what we talked about. Stay by the basket, ok?" I'm a little miffed I have to mention it already, because hello. It's only been 2.2 minutes since "the talk".

I have to tell Sweet Pickle (again) to stop bouncing his ball and throwing it in the store. Finally I take the ball and put it in the cart. "One more correction and you don't get this ball, ok?" Ok.

We shop a little more. Puddin is not sleeping. He's wide awake. He's whining and he has spit up on himself twice. His shirt and the straps of his car seat are soaked through. His white shirt is now yellow. He stinks.

Time to check out. We get in line and I take the baby out of his seat because he's crying again. Why hasn't he fallen asleep? He was exhausted pre-trip.

As I'm unstrapping my stinky Puddin', Sugarhead (3) grabs Sweet Pickle's (4) hand and they walk off to the shelves of nick nack trash trinkets. I follow them with my half-dressed baby on my shoulder. He's wearing a long sleeve shirt, a wet diaper and a pair of socks. I don't look much better. There's spit up on me too.

I snap my fingers and hiss. Back to the cart. Now. And no toys. (Why did I think this would work?)

We're all back in line. There are people in front of us and behind us. Now the pressure's really on. The kids in front of us are playing with these chickens placed strategically at the register. They squawk LOUDLY when you squeeze them. (trying to ignore how badly that sound grates on my nerves)

They finish up. Now it's our turn to squeeze the chickens. I check out, tell the girl I'm gonna pass on this coloring book and this ball. I'm sorry.

Sweet Pickle has a chicken in his hand and when I say "okay guys, time to go" he looks me square in the face and says forcefully, NO!

Oh yes he did.

I tilt my head to the side and attempt to burn his retinas with mine and say, "YES SIR! Put the chicken up. NOW. We're leaving. "

"NO!"

A lady behind me says, "Aw mama. He just wants a chicken."

Yes she did.

(Jesus, I think I'll slap her. That's what you would do, right?) I snap back, "He may want a chicken. He's about to get something else!" I never thought for even a second, be polite Jodie. I'm sure she means well.

I walk over to him, my chest is on fire. As I'm walking over Puddin' spits again. This time it runs down his leg, onto the carpet, and I have no spit rag. I take off his sock and wipe his leg, and ignore the carpet. Because really. I cannot take any. more.

I look at my child and I say with clenched teeth, "Son. I will take you in the bathroom right now and discipline you in this store if you don't put that chicken up right. now. I said it's time to leave. Obey." (I'm secretly thinking, if this doesn't work, I'm screwed - because really, if I have to follow through, I have to put down my baby who will no doubt furiously scream his head off. I really don't want to have to deal with that right now. I just want to go home.)

He puts down the chicken. I'm very relieved that he believed me. We leave. I almost forget what I bought and have to walk back to the register for my bag.

We get out of the door. "Hold your sister's hand." His hands are stuffed firmly in his pockets. He has no intention of holding her hand. "Take her hand son. Right now." In the meantime, she starts to walk into the parking lot on her own, ahead of us, and in the wrong direction.

Grrrr.

We finally get into the van. I'm fuming. I take a deep breath and pray on the way home. God please. (Most of my prayers begin this way) God please. Give me discernment. I need wisdom. Please give me the right words, and self control.

At this point I'm really not even wanting to calm down because I want to be angry. I was so mad. Long story short, we get home. There's crying and gnashing of teeth. When all is calm again, Sweet Pickle and I hold hands and pray together. I really want him to understand, and I want to train his heart, not just his behavior. He's older and I think better able to understand that part. That it's about disrespecting Mama, and disobeying, and he needs God to help him to be respectful and to follow the rules.

At the end of the day, we were all on good terms, albeit tired and worn out. But I felt good about how I handled it with him. I usually feel guilty because I have a difficult time being both firm and nurturing. Then later, usually when they're all asleep, I feel I've failed them as a mom. I failed to teach them the bigger lesson. I failed to nurture them while I was angry. Most of the time I feel horrible - that they acted that way (I take it personal), that I didn't handle myself better, that I haven't taught them better than that, that I've trained them to ignore my first warning and not take me seriously, that I left God out of it, and that I'm terrible at this...

So I sent the story to Holly so that she could see that other kids have tantrums and are difficult to manage, too.

It really is no wonder she looks up to me. I clearly have exemplary mothering skillz.

Correction & Cessation

Last night one (or both) of the kids tore 2 books. I hate it when they do that. We never did get the whole truth and nothing but the truth on whodunnit. So I'm telling them how disappointed I am that they didn't take care of their books, and how that makes me sad. I tell them that if they don't take care of their books I won't buy them anymore. (Even I don't believe that part.)

And then I say, "and you know, Jesus said He wants us to take good care of our things."

Sweet Pickle (4 yr) looks at me and gives me a slow nod and says, "Oohhhh okay. I see what you're sayin'."

I think he's figuring out how to make my mouth stop.

My new obsession, and OH NO!

Well, it's not really new. I used to be obsessed, and now it's back. I've been on a major Earl Gray tea kick. I'm drinking like, 5 cups a day. It's so good. I can't help myself. I was drinking one tea bag at a time in a small cup. Now I've graduated:

large travel size mug
2 tea bags
boiling water
a few Tbsp fat-free half and half
a few tsp white sugar

Happiness. Mmmm. So good.

A few minutes ago I put some water in my fabulous enamel tea kettle to boil.
I got on the internet.
I forgot about said kettle.
I remembered it in a panic!

Oh my. Ohhhh Jesus!

All of the water had evaporated and my precious tea kettle melted onto my stove coil. Melted. I loved that kettle. My mother-in-law gave it to me. I loved it! Because tea is so much more than a delicious, warm beverage. It's an experience. And I love all of the beautiful accoutrements that go along with tea. Like my kettle. And now it's gone. Now I'll have to boil my water in an ugly, although very useful, skillet.

So back to my issha... I deferred to Google... my preferred method of problem-solving. "They" said to just replace the coil. This whole thing just makes me feel really nervous.

If anybody knows of another way of getting it cleaned, please help a sista out!

Now I need to go and unwind.

I think I'm gonna go have a cup of tea.

A Thing of Beauty Is a Joy Forever

Last night we had an impromptu girl's night. I was happy. On the way to the restaurant I had on the radio and got all giddy to hear Journey singing Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) (1983). It's not every day I hear Journey and it had been a long time since I'd heard that particular song, so I pumped up the volume and sang.

Loud. (I know. It's supposed to be loudly. But I don't talk like that.)

When the song wrapped up, I heard the sweet and sultry voice of none other than (are you ready for this? Because I wasn't.)



Casey Kasem. Yes! Casey. Kasem. I know! (I didn't even know he was still alive. Sorry Casey.)

I was delighted (highly pleased). I wanted to start clapping really fast, but I was driving so you can see where that would be hazardous (full of risk; perilous). I had landed on a Top 10 of sorts. What a great start to girl's night!! You cannot imagine my excitedness! Then he plays Hey There Delilah which I was so happy to hear from start to finish because I love that sweet little song. Next up, another blast from the 80's (1989 I think), a hit from the B52's. Yep. Love Shack. (Did they ever have another hit??) I have a great love for most things 80's, but a really sweet spot in my heart for the music. Only until now, I didn't know how sweet it was.

My oh my.

So I'm singing along (to Love Shack) at a volume that should be embarrassing (but I'm not embarrassed). I'm beating it out on the steering wheel, so happy to be alive. And then something happened that surprised even me.

I got a lump in my throat. At the height of the song, the bang bang on the door baby, I had to stop singing, much to my chagrin. And shame (the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another).

Because I was crying. I squeaked out tin roof! rusted but it was puny. Nowhere near the passion and gusto I was going for.

It was a very telling moment for me. I had no idea that my love for the 80's ran that deep.

So that experience in the car (which was most assuredly sweetened by Casey Kasem) coupled with some face to face time with my dawgs - Ohhh sweet mercy. It was a perfect night.

A thing of beauty.


**You may have noticed a few definitions scattered throughout this post. It's because WordGirl's feelin' verbose today. Word up!**

Everything's betta when you got some feta.

I'm pretty sure that when God rained down "manna" from heaven for the Israelites in the desert, what they really got was feta cheese. I believe it because I know for certain that man can indeed live by cheese alone, but even God said you can't live by bread alone.

Oh, I kid. Don't get all excommunicatin' on me.

It was really bread. Bread that had been made completely out of feta cheese. I mean, consider, it was sent from Heaven. Where else would feta cheese come from?

A Quote

The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of. --Blaise Pascal

Lovesome Luggage

I'd love to have this bag! It would make for some happy travels.

I'm ready to bust a move.

When I was in my early twenties- before kids, when we were first married, I felt this very strong resistance to getting older. It seemed like the worst thing that could ever happen to a person was to be no longer 20-something. How merciless and hateful life could be - to strip away the years that start with 2. I wanted to be 20-something forever. I never wanted to cross over. I dreaded being out of my twenties, because bad things happened after thirty. Things like being referred to as an "older woman". I was quite certain that you'd never turn another head as long as you lived, and any attention you got would only be mercy flirts. Turning 30 seemed worse than gaining 20 lbs. And as fate would have it I did that long before thirty anyway. A woman over 30 was to me, a woman who'd lost "it", and her best years were far behind her. She wore mama jeans and had a long, flat butt.

Now I can't wait to turn 30. I'm 28, and I feel stuck between worlds. And I don't want to go back, like I thought I would. I'd much rather spring forward and get this season behind me once and for all. I'm ready to be 30. I'm ready to be beyond this place. There's so much searching, wrestling and questioning. It's very tiresome. And it makes me feel all twitchy.

So what is it about the 30s that have bewitched me now? And no, just so we're all clear on this, it's not the mama jeans. Or the long butt. Those things are still unsavory.

It's the desire for less drama, less fretting, a greater understanding of what it means to bring my kids up, a settled heart that God is who He says He is, that He is indeed good, and that He is in control. I see a different level of ease in my older friends. They seem more easy with themselves, gentler with other people. More okay with just being who they are. And for me, getting there is a process. I hate a process. For the record. I'm having to work out a lot of junk "with fear and trembling". And processing takes time. Which I why I hate it. I keep thinking that by the time I actually turn 30, enough time will have passed that I'll have worked out some kinks. You know, undesirables. I don't know how to be happy with myself just the way I am. I feel like I'm too insecure and unsure to be happy this way. How can so unsettled a person be content?

I think if I had to choose one word to describe women over 30, I'd have to say that generally, y'all seem so much more settled. I see great benefits that come with age. Age mellows people. And I've grown tired of being so tense, and anxious, and troubled. I wish I had inherited the hippie gene. But my people are not hippies. When God handed out the hippie gene my people were off somewhere frettin' and wringing their hands. How I would love to just be breezy. To really enjoy all of life without getting twisted into knots. To suck the marrow out of life. I'm not there, but it's what I'm aiming for. For those of us without the hippie gene, we just have to wait & let time (and God) work some magic on us.

So that's how I got here - where the 30s look so appealing. And farther off than I'd like them to be.

And that's something I never thought I'd ever say.

My Coveted Fashion Pictu-mentary

If all my wardrobe dreams came true (in other words, if I found a large unmarked bag of large bills or maybe some gold bricks - preferably without a ransom note) this is what I'd buy: Yes, I'd go shopping. Not to the Police Dept. to return said cash. Shopping. A-hem.
Where was I?
Oh yes, what would I spend all of the filthy cash on....
1. A trench coat. We are big Apprentice people here, and I saw Ivanka wearing a silvery-gray one like this recently. It looked great on her, and from that moment on, I've needed one. This one would be nice. Plus it's on sale at Target for $20. That's my kind of bargain. But what do I care? I just found a ton o' cash!

2. Lots of jackets and sweaters. I'm becoming more and more obsessed with outerwear. I used to hate to shop for winter clothes because we live on the equator in S. Louisiana and winter only lasts a few hours here. But I have really fallen for the look of a jacket/sweater coat/cardigan. They've become my favorite clothing category. I could easily spend all of my husband's money on fun ones like these:


The red one speeds up my heart. :)
I also like this, and this.
3. Dark trouser jeans. They look flattering on EVERYBODY. I keep putting off buying a pair though. I want to be thinner before I make the investment as I like to wear my clothes until they dry-rot, so it's imperative that they fit well - for a looong time. Buying a pair of jeans is a serious commitment people. I like this pair.

4. New tops that aren't so casual. I'm a homemaker, which means I clean up a bunch of messes all day, but I really get tired of feeling like a frump-a-dump. So I'd like some new dress-up clothes. These would make me feel sassy:



***Note: some of these are pictured as dresses. Rest assured they would be worn as shirts on this model. ;)
5. Shoes. So stinkin' cute, these ones are:


I understand that these all look like basically the same shoe. I'm totally okay with that. Cuteness matters more than sameness. And really, color. How could I choose between that delicious green and that rosy rose?

Oh and I love these boots. Big big. I've been on the lookout for a pair of gray boots. These would be my best good friends. If I could walk in them.

As I look at these pictures all lined up on one page it is very clear to me that I am a pattern chicken. It is also quite clear that I'm drawn in by similar detail - like shimmery stuff, and ruffly stuff. That, and yellow & gray.

I find myself at a fashion crossroads. I'm 28. Almost out of the 20-somethings and into the 30-somethings (which I'm so ready for - I think I'll post on that soon). I'm ready for a look upgrade. A delicate balance of cute and funky. Classy funky.

I look in my closet now though, and most of my threads don't fit that mold. They're my "bridge clothes". What I wear in the meantime, while I update my style, one piece at a time.

I understand how terribly boring this post is. If you're still here, bless your heart. :) Now you know me a little bit better. And have squandered precious minutes of your life reading the most boring thing ever written. :)

Happy Sunday!

May I have a word?

I wish I'd thought this out better before I got started. If it wasn't so much trouble, I'd probably change it now, but I think it's way too much trouble, and much too late. Drat.

Double drat.

I'm talking about the name of my blog. You know, I've been asked the question before, if I could have a superpower what would it be? I used to think I'd want to be invisible, but I've done that, and it's overrated. So what then? Well, after much thought and deliberation, or maybe it was just after seeing one episode, I've decided that I want to be WordGirl. And if I didn't already have a blog I would totally name it Word Girl. Because that's ME! (at heart anyway)

Am I not the girl that won the Spelling Bee in the 4th Grade!? I even got a trophy, with a gold bee. Very classy. And then I went onto regionals (only to be crushed in round 1 by the dumb judge who mispronounced reservoir, making it sound like reservore. Which is how I spelled it. And how was I to know it was pronounced reserVOIR!? I was in the 4th Grade. How could I know anything about a receptacle or chamber for holding a liquid or fluid.) Dumb judge. I could've been somebody! I could've been WordGirl! Because what's important to a word girl?... "It's her love of vocabulary that helps WordGirl save the day in her never-ending battle for truth, justice and use of the right word". I am ALL ABOUT THAT! That is ME.


For now I'll just try to be content with watching her on PBS and getting my kids to fall in love with her, too. So that I don't have to miss an episode. Because man, I love me some WordGirl.

But if one day I can figure out how to make it happen, I will make the blogosphere switch.

And if it's not too much to ask, could you just call me that from now on? I'll be answering to WordGirl from here on out. In case anybody wants to know.

Signing off,
WordGirl

Con-vic-she-own

You love Jesus only as much as the person you love the least.

Ow. That stings a little.

Love Letters from God

I love today! If you've been here long enough you know that I have a delicious husband who gave me the best Christmas gift ever. Well, today was my last day with my trainer. And it was also the day to assess "the damage" - you know, re-weigh, re-measure, re-calculate, re-visit. And GUESS WHAT!? I lost 6 1/2 inches!!! In 6 weeks. Now that is reason to happy dance! Not only that (as if that's not enough), I also lost 6 lbs. of fat. Fat. As in, lard. Six pounds of poundiferousness.

Now here's the best part. Getting this package as a Christmas gift was huge for us. We don't have an extravagant income, although my husband works tirelessly to provide for our family, and for me to stay home with our kids. I feel very blessed in that regard. But here we are, at the end of my 6weeks, and we just don't have enough extra coin to pay gym membership fees. I've thought and fretted about this, and prayed a little too.

What to do. What to do!

So I talked to the owner today and I am going to work part time in the nursery to pay for my membership! *squeals of delight* I know!!

THAT is why this is my love letter from God today. THAT is what brought tears to my happy eyes this morning, and made my heart feel full of thank you's to God.

It is a GREAT day.

Small objects that make me smile real big

I don't recall how, or where, but I stumbled across the most delicious site that made me so insanely giddy I could hardly stand it. It's called The Small Object, and look!! Just look at all of the cuteness!

A collection of these Celebration Candle Kids would make me so happy sitting on my birthday cake, or cupcakes. Why? Because they're delightful. That's why.


I love, lovelovelove, nesting dolls. I think they're WONDERFUL. These are tiny note papers. I think I'm in love. Oh sweet nesting dolls, will you be my Valentine?


And aren't these the most darling needle cases you've ever seen? They make me want to sew. Or at least organize my notions.

Especially the needles.


And look! This is a stamp set. An Official Mail Correspondence stamp set. Complete with carrier pigeon. And I heart this so big. I love to write letters. I am a not-even-about-to-recover paper addict. And I like it. How happy would you be to receive a letter stamped with this??? I cannot begin to tell you how happy that would make me.


And if your heart can stand the excitement... More stamps! I know!! Is there anything more happy than a set of happy Little Woodland Pals stamps! No indeed. Except maybe the Nesting Dolls stamp set. Yes. They have that too.

Now you know what to get me for my birthday. Or any other major holiday, like, say, next Tuesday. It's Buy Your Friend a Stamp Set Day.

My how time flies... and drags.

Has it really only been 9 days? Because I swear it feels longer than that. It feels like at least a week and 3 days.

And several hours.

I missed y'all! And you know, I've gotten so much sweet feedback from some of you that it made it even harder to stay away. As much as I'd like to break away and spend some good face-to-face time with my friends more often, we're all in busy seasons of life and getting together is HARD. We sometimes go weeks, and so, this has been really good for me. Therapeutic in a way because your comments build my confidence. Y'all have encouraged me, challenged me, and even in some ways, discipled me. It's been really good.

This past week (9 days. Whatever.) has been so busy I've had nary a minute to get on anyway, much as I wanted to. I've cleaned and cooked and read - and still found at the end of the day so much more to do! It's been a satisfying week for me though. I've done some of those things I've really wanted to do, and it feels good.

You may be a bit bumfuzzled about what I'm doin' here at all, considering my last post. Well, my darling husband and I sat down a few days ago and talked about blogging, and how much I missed it (SO MUCH), and did he think there might be a way for me to still do it, just not you know, so much, and not leave my family feeling ignored. We wracked our wigs trying to find a solution we could all be happy with, and then in his great wisdom he said, what if you just blogged on the weekends? (I was thinking maybe if we put our minds together we could think of a way for me to do it every day, but even we're not that smart.) So I said okay. And I smiled. Because it made me happy.

So here's the deal: Weekends only, unless/until I am truly satisfied with the status of everything else. Translation: I cannot have a pile of ironing I've been meaning to get to for a week and a half or three, and I can't neglect the leaning tower of Piza papers (that need to make their home in the filing cabinet). You know. Stuff like that. And other things too, like, what's for dinner, and have I played with my little dumplins yet today? Have I spent any time in their world? Have I focused my mind on God yet today? Bottom line, am I truly okay with the way the rest of my life is, and if the answer is no, than there's really no time for blogging.

Except on the weekends. The rule is more stretchy on the weekends.

So yay. I'm back! And I'm terrible happy 'bout it.

...to do what REALLY matters for our family.

Late last night I was reading up on some of my favorite blogs, and I went to In the Midst of It and read this post by Sarah. Every time I woke up during the night I was thinking about this post, and how I should consider that for myself. And the fact that I feel a strong internal resistance is just proof of the fact that I need to pull back. The computer is fun, but I spend too much time here to acheive what I really want for my life, for my family.

So I, too, am taking a break. I love the internet. Maybe too much. I am so easily sucked in by it - checking email, myspace, facebook, blogs - my own and others. So much of my thought life is wrapped up in what happens here, at this desk, on this computer. So I'm leaving it alone for a while - posting on my blog, constantly checking myspace and facebook. I'll be limiting email and using my phone to actually talk to people instead.

I have a family I've neglected - a husband and 3 young children that deserve to be loved well. I waste alot of valuable time sitting here, doing this. I don't want to look back over my life and see these years, and regret the way I spent them. I want to be a better homemaker, a better mama, and a better wife. Like Sarah, I want to be sucked in by making breakfast and dinner for my family and by reading stories to my children. And I want to get better at knitting. I want to spend the evenings with my husband. Not my blog. I want to embroider and sew, and make spaghetti and meatballs with PlayDoh with my children while they still want me to play with them.

I want to take care of my family.

PS - Sincerely, thank you to all of you have offered your encouragement and support to me here. It's touched my heart. I'm glad to have "met" you and I am grateful for your reaching out to me.

The Discipline of Dejection

I woke up this morning and felt gently compelled to read My Utmost for His Highest, so I read the reading for today, and then I looked over to the opposite page at yesterday's reading and saw this verse at the top . It gripped me and I immediately saw myself. How many times have I said, aloud or in my heart, but I trusted... So I read on, and this is what it said---
(Things that are in bold or italics are my own added emphasis)

But we trusted... and beside all this, today is the third day... Luke 24:21

"Every fact that the disciples states was right, but the inferences they drew from those facts were wrong. Anything that savours of dejection spiritually is always wrong. If depression and oppression visit me, I am to blame; God is not, nor is anyone else. Dejection springs from one of two sources -- I have either satisfied a lust or I have not. Lust means --I must have it at once. (Wow! That's revelation!) Spiritual lust makes me demand an answer from God, instead of seeking God Who gives the answer. What have I been trusting God would do? And today -- the immediate present - is the third day, and He has not done it; therefore I imagine I am justified in being dejected and in blaming God. Whenever the insistence is on the point that God answers prayer, we are off the track. The meaning of prayer is that we get hold of God, not of the answer. It is impossible to be well physically and to be dejected. Dejection is a sign of sickness, and the same thing is true spiritually. (Ouch) Dejection spiritually is wrong, and we are always to blame for it.
We look for visions from heaven, for earthquakes and thunders of God's power (the fact that we are dejected proves that we do), and we never dream that all the time God is in the commonplace things and people around us. If we will do the duty that lies nearest, we shall see Him. One of the most amazing revelations of God comes when we learn that it is in the commonplace things that the Deity of Jesus Christ is realized."

I've recognized for a while (since I read Inside Out, aka The Best Book Ever Written) that I have a demanding spirit towards God. I needed to read this today because dejection has been such a part of my daily spiritual life, and has held me back from God, in a misguided effort at self-protection, and threatened to keep me in bondage. I'm shaking right now as I type this because I get it. God's not to blame. I am. And I can live with that, because it doesn't feel unfair. And that's fixable. It's no longer me vs. God. God has righted my thoughts, and He is now back on my side.

And the fact that I read this now, even though it was yesterday's reading, is my love letter from God today.

I love it when He freaks me out like this! :)

I Could Easily Be a Meteorologist

The weekend forecast was correct. Tears rained down as predicted, but alas, we're all still above water, and sleeping better already. Just call me the Weather Girl. The first night can be described in no other terms than hellish. If I were in fact a Weather Girl, I could show y'all some rad graphics. Ohhh, we were miserable. All of us. And awake. AKA, miserable. I almost cried and I may have pulled out some of my hair. I was pretty sure that I would cave, thereby undoing all of our progress, but did I mention that I've been tired? Well we made it through the night, and after all the crying was done, sweet sleep was awaiting us, and was such a delightful and welcome guest.

Saturday and Sunday were better. Much better. Each day it gets easier on all of us, and I think it makes Schmo happier too because he's much more rested. That makes everyone sweeter.

In other news, Saturday is my usual cheat day and so I eat an unholy amount of calories because I spent the week earning that. This Saturday was especially sweet because I was ripe for some emotional eating after the Friday night we had had, what with all the crying and all.

So it was McDonald's breakfast burritos to get me kicked off in the right direction, T-Rex pizza for lunch, then some magical chocolate cake (with chocolate chips in the batter! Thanks Tonja!) for a quick sugar pick-me-up around 2 or 3, and then Wendy's for supper.

My rings left creases in my fingers after church Sunday morning, undoubtedly because my innards look much like the Dead Sea. Just think of what they'd have looked like had I eaten the fried Oreo that taunted us from the menu after lunch. Uh-huh, fried Oreo. And yes, it taunted me.

It was all, you don't have the guts. You can't handle me.

And as fetching as arteriosclerosis sounds, I felt it wise to heed the sage advice of Nancy Reagan and "Just Say No". And I passed! I passed the test! I'll just go ahead and confess right now though, because it's good for the soul, my resolve was pretty flimsy so if someone else had ordered one, I would've had to have one too. Thankfully, everyone else is like, iron willed against the sugary devils, so I just rode to victory on their coat tails.

Hey. Any way I get there is fine with me.

Turning Over a New Leaf

There's been a whole lotta crying over here lately. Our sweet Lil' Schmo used to sleep all night. It was beautiful. And then all sorts of evils started changing that, and stole our nights from us like a thieving bandit. Things like teething, constipation/tummy aches, hunger, growth spurts, and itchy eczema - and he started waking up again. That was 2 months ago. Some nights it's only once, other nights it's been up to 4 times. Four times. As if all I have to get done the next day is take recovery naps.

The last two nights have been pretty sleepless, which has brought me to this point. It is time.

I have a feeling that this weekend holds even more unnerving crying, but this'll be different because it'll have purpose instead of the meaningless crying and wakefulness all hours of the night that we've been enjoying. I'm calling it Operation Sleep All Night Weekend. I'm a tired mama right now. So tired. Tired of being awake at night. Tired of guessing what to do to make him happy. Tired of being frustrated. I'm tired.

With our other children we let them learn to go to sleep on their own, when we felt it was the right time for them, and us. The time has arrived... again, for this one. We have an extended weekend because the kids have half the week off of school next week, and we're attacking this beast head on. I've put it off for different reasons, but the biggest one is that Schmo shares a room with his big brother... the only child in the house who has to get up and go to real school during the day. I haven't wanted all the fussing and crying to steal his much-needed rest, too. The holiday will be a treat for him though, because he'll get to sleep in Mommy & Daddy's bed while his brother figures out how to go to sleep without his props, namely his Mama!

Turn and face it, dig deep. I'm psyching myself up because really, this is never easy. But in the past it has been SO worth it. I'm over being sleepless and mean.

It's so last year.