Wine Saves Lives (just ask my family)!

January 18 marks my one year anniversary with Scout & Cellar Clean-Crafted Wine…and what a journey it has been!

Last school year was one of the most difficult ones our family has or had ever experienced and at this time last year, I was in a very, very dark place. The walls I’d built around myself were thicker than they’d ever been, I was allowing outside forces and negative energy dictate my self awareness, I wasn’t returning friends’ calls or texts, I was being incredibly mean to myself, and my self esteem was in shambles. I was simply surviving and  praying for SOMETHING I could be proud of, something I could call my own, something to give me purpose and help me climb out of the deep well of self-hatred I was drowning in.

January 18, 2018 was the day my prayers were answered. Not only was I offered the opportunity to get back in front of the camera for Moms Talk, I also put my faith in a long-time friend and signed up as a consultant for Scout & Cellar. Keep in mind, the S&C consultantship was simply to earn commission on the wine I was already (heavily) consuming - I was in NO position to host tastings, share the product, and most definitely was in NO position to actually reach out to people in general. I’ve always feared rejection, so for my own mental health, the thought of doing anything that might solicit such a reaction was ludicrous. Absolutely crazy.

Fast forward a month and I’d hosted two tastings (with the help of Amanda, who flew up to train and hang out with me) and I was having FUN. FUN interacting with people, fun hosting tastings, fun sharing the product, and fun seeing people love it as much as I did. I’d been told ‘no,’ but it didn’t debilitate me like it would have before…and I’d been told ‘yes’ so much more. 

Even more importantly, I was becoming more like myself again - reconnecting with old friends, making new ones, and establishing some pretty solid FRIENDSHIPS along the way. 

Fast forward almost a year and the income I’m bringing in each month isn’t half bad either and I’m blessed to be the 99th consultant in the Founder’s Club of a ground floor direct sales company with $20 million in sales in only one year. Oh - and the scale shows I’m one pound lighter than I was when I got pregnant with my son FIFTEEN years ago and 8-10 pounds lighter than I was at this time last year! The only thing I’ve changed is the type of wine I’m drinking, so it’s a true testament to the decreased amount of carbs and calories in S&C wine.

I’m thankful I put my pinky toe in the water, because now I’m swimming in the deep end. 😊

Summer Survival Tips

My word. This summer may be the death of me. Lord knows, it's aged me. Just a few tidbits I've learned that I'd like to share in the spirit of motherhood (or fatherhood) survival:

*No matter how much a child BEGS not to have a nap, MAKE THEM TAKE A NAP!! Be firm. Be strong. The struggle is real, folks, but it's even worse when you don't hit the target head on (and the target is the child's...and your...need for a nap). If said nap doesn't happen, WWIII happens around dinnertime. It's not pretty. And it's not just happening with said child - said adult may lose it about that time too.

*Separate your children as much as possible!! This is also incredibly important for your mental health (as well as probably theirs, but that's not really the concern right now...) ;) Too much togetherness FOR ANYONE is bad. Especially bad for a certain 13 year old boy and his 6 year old sister. Yes, I know that makes little sense given the age gap...BUT BELIEVE ME - IT'S BAAAAD. They are apparently lacking in attention, which is ludicrous. **rolling eye emoji**

*Scheduling summer camps to keep your kids 'busy' while you try to work DOES NOT WORK. You become an unpaid Uber driver, you are on THEIR schedule, your kids are overly tired (not in a good way), AND YOU DON'T GET ANY WORK DONE. In fact, you end up working at 10:30 p.m. on a Friday night. Or 10 p.m. on a Thursday night doing laundry. Either way, not a win for you. AND you're out A LOT of camp fees...and gas.

*Oh - and if you have the 'luxury' of working from home, they don't actually think you work...for anyone BUT THEM. Even explaining that the toys, or bracelets, or freaking fidget spinners you bought them that day were because YOU HAVE A JOB THAT YOU GET PAID FOR, doesn't register. AT ALL.

*Enjoy those few seconds of togetherness you experience with your child one on one, because again, in 3.5 seconds, it all changes. Relish it.

*If you're now an introvert (I wasn't always), summer is basically your worst nightmare. There's kids, friends, people EVERYWHERE. They're coming and going at all hours. Plans change constantly (and for an OCD planner, this is an issue). No silence, no recollecting your thoughts, no walking around the house in your pajamas. Just random people in your house that you don't know and because some of them are teenagers, they haven't even introduced themselves to you even though you cooked them dinner. AND I RARELY EVEN COOK. But I digress.

So, as we enter the last half of summer, I pray for your sanity, for my sanity, for GOOD memories to be made...but I also pray for ALL OF YOU to recognize that just because one day doesn't go perfectly, you are still a good parent. You still love your kids. And they are still going to be okay. But dang, can't we just go back to our childhood where our parents just sent us outside to play and fend for ourselves?!?! It's our job to love and feed and protect our children. God didn't say we needed to entertain them EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY and GIVE THEM EVERYTHING THEIR LITTLE HEARTS' DESIRED.

*stepping off my soapbox

Alzheimer's Sucks, Part 3713

My mind is overflowing with blog posts. My emotions, though, have gotten the best of me today...so they will come at some point. I’m way too tired tonight. 

Today’s silver lining, even though I have an issue even calling it that knowing this sweet man is likely sitting alone crying, afraid and sad in his new home, in his new foreign room. Now as I type this, I definitely find it hard to find a silver lining - even though I meant this to be as much as a positive post as possible. My goal was to show the freaking silver lining. Okay, it’s there. I know it is. Wait - where is it?! 

Weekends at my dad’s ‘home’ are skeleton crew at best. I don’t mean that badly, but that’s just the way it is. While the sweet lady went to change my father’s pants and clean up the accident he had in the living room, I offered to take a new resident to his room. He was disoriented and confused and there wasn’t anyone else available...and honestly, somehow helping the other residents makes the visits bearable. 

What I didn’t realize is that this was a new resident (I mean, I knew I hadn’t seen him before, but I’ve been slacking and hadn’t gone to see my dad since Monday). Please don’t judge me. I’ve been surviving. I’m juggling three jobs and caravanning kids...not even factoring in the emotional toll involved. It’s HARD to see my dad like that and sometimes, I just can’t do it. Judge away. But just wait...if you’re ever in our shoes. 

I lead the sweet new resident to his room. He was fully put together. Levi’s, collared shirt, boots, leather belt. If he wasn’t using a walker, I would’ve thought he was a visitor. He was a handsome older gentleman. No one would know his illness. 

But he was not a visitor. He’s new. He’s there to stay. He cried immediately as we entered his room and told me he was so scared. He repeatedly told me he was afraid and didn’t know where he was. He was confused. I broke down. I tried to be strong for him, but how do you tell a grandpa it’s going to be okay when hell, you don’t even want to be there AND YOU CAN LEAVE. I tried EVERYTHING I could think of. I used fiblets (thanks, Ken Branum), but I didn’t know enough about him to truly placate him. 

I’ve spent 5 years in Alzheimer’s support group meetings and realized I’m not trained for that. I’m not equipped. I easily told a ‘fiblet’ to another woman a few minutes before that we were sitting down with the wedding party to get her to eat. It worked wonders - she ate like a champ!!! But this...this was new. 

I began to cry (like, really, really CRY), then I realized I needed to get it together or I was going to upset him more. We looked at his family pictures, we looked through his limited belongings. ...but he was still teary and afraid. He still wanted to know where he was. He still continuously told me how afraid he was. A grown man. Scared beyond belief. I was worried my limited knowledge would make it worse, so I placated him and went to look for help!

...by the time I made it back to my newly changed father, my mom and my kids, I realized one thing. One VERY, VERY important thing - at least when we leave my dad after a visit, we don’t have to worry about him sitting alone crying and afraid. THAT IS HUGE. Huge. Especially in this hell we’re living in. 

My heart aches for the sweet man I know is hurting, sad and scared tonight. While his feelings may be relatively irrational, THEY ARE HIS FEELINGS AND ARE SO VERY REAL. I saw it in his eyes. HE WAS SCARED. Legitimately afraid. 

I’ll have trouble sleeping tonight, but I know his family will be in worse shape. 

Pray, pray, pray for these sweet souls. They don’t deserve this. No one deserves this. 

#alzheimerssucks

Father's Day. We had a moment.

Father’s Day...and my dad and I had a moment that was amazing and unbelievably sad...all at the same time. 

To preface, Friday was the Father’s Day party at the Cottages, where dad is staying. So many people love him, so he had quite a few visitors that day, but he was restless and not interested in sitting down with us. In fact, he was getting a little agitated that we wanted him to. He wanted to walk and was doing this strange thing where he leans down and it seems as if his upper body goes limp and that he’ll pass out, then he comes to as you raise him up or touch his arm. To say it was difficult to see is an understatement. 

So, that being said, I wasn’t sure what to expect today. I walked in and found him in the front room pacing with his head down like normal…and like normal, I followed him around worrying like an old mother hen that he would hit his head (he can’t see where he’s going, because he has his head down) or that he would trip (it’s amazing the balance he has given the fact that he nearly trips about…once every few minutes). I suppose that should be a blessing, but I digress.

He finally sat down and I was able to give him his Father’s Day card. I read it to him and told him I loved him, and he began to cry. Eyes red, tears flowing, CRY. We locked eyes for a few seconds - long enough for me to see that the ‘real’ him is still in there and long enough to tell him I loved him so very much. He cried…I cried. I apologized (through tears) for making him cry and he smiled, grabbed and patted my arm to console ME. He was present for a moment and although it was fleeting, I’m thankful for it...emotional rollercoaster and all.

Ironically, this song was playing when I got into my car (Ignore my dirty screen. It’s a pet peeve, but my OCD is too tired to care right now). 

Big girls DO cry. In fact, I think big girls cry more than little girls.

 

My Father No Longer Knows My Mother

What’s on my mind? 

Real talk. REAL TALK - the sh*t no one wants to talk about - that kind of REAL TALK. 

We can go ahead and pretend life is amazing and we’re waltzing through the rainbows with butterflies as our guide. 🌈

It’s about perspective. I GET IT. I shouldn’t be crying about the fact that my father didn’t recognize my mother, married for more than 35 years, for the first time today. I shouldn’t. There’s so many other devastating issues happening across the world at this exact time. But you know what? This, THIS, is real to us...just like so many other more devastating issues are real to the families experiencing them...and they are in my prayers EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. 

OUR feelings are OUR feelings. OUR worlds are OUR worlds. We have every right to FEEL what we FEEL. No one can dictate what that looks like to any of us, regardless of what some might feel is the insignificance of the situation based on the significance of someone else’s situation. 

Let’s love each other and empathize with one another as we deal with this thing called life. Help one another survive and thrive. It’s the least we can do. ❤️❤️

My Father No Longer Knows Me.

Dread. The feeling slowly washes over me as I navigate the now familiar drive. I’m stone-faced and on a mission, trying with all my might to stay strong, to ignore my beating heart, my shallow breathing, the tears welling up. I turn up the music. It doesn’t help. My chest is heavy, my mind is racing in circles trying to prepare myself for what I already know is about to happen - what I know I will no doubt face. I tell myself to be strong. I HAVE to be strong. I have no choice. I change the song to one of my favorites, hoping to distract myself so I can belt out the lyrics with the music so loud that surely it will drown out these terrible, heart-wrenching thoughts. 

It doesn’t. I think, what if it’s worse, what if HE’S worse? In that moment - then and there - the guilt hits me like a ton of bricks. How dare I? My SIXTY-THREE year old father is locked up like a caged animal and I’m worried about HOW I WILL FEEL if he’s declined further in the days since I’ve seen him? How. Dare. I? I should be ashamed of myself...and I immediately add shame to the laundry list of emotions taking over my body. 

I take a deep breath and walk to the door putting on a confident air, because that’s supposed to help, right? Once inside, I immediately see him - shuffling, pacing, his head down to the point that even my vertically challenged self has to bend my knees to try to look his normally larger than life 6 foot stature in the eye. We’ve seen it before. It’s the first thought I have in the morning and the last thought I have as I (try to) fall asleep. That and the tiny twin bed he sleeps in without the comfort of his wife of 35+ years. What does he think? What does he feel? DOES he think or feel? Does he know - even for a moment - where he is and what is happening to him? 

My constant prayer is that he doesn’t. But I do. My mom does. My grandma, my children, my brother - we all do. And we all feel deeply - deeper than any of us could imagine. Our hearts ache even during what should be our happiest times. In fact, I’ve found my heart aches more during those times - those times my dad would or should be present, the times we’re getting to experience something he never will again...while he’s away from us shuffling and pacing and looking at the floor. 

What I didn’t expect today, what I couldn’t prepare for, is that today was the first day my father didn’t light up when he saw me. I bent down trying to distract his floor-concentrated gaze, looking into his beautiful blue eyes that have always, always beamed at me with love and pride, have always been happy to see me, have always made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl in the room...and all I saw was a blank stare. He met my gaze, but for the first time...my father didn’t know me. My father no longer knows me.

Parenting in a Fallen World

With each and every school shooting, mass shooting or terrorist attack, I remind myself that we cannot let pure evil dictate our feelings of safety, that we cannot let the unbelievably tragic events keep us from living our every day lives. ...but with each and every event, my feelings of safety for my children DOES diminish, whether I like it or not. That's real talk - not sugar-coated and most definitely, not me pretending that these events can't happen here. 

That being said, our lunch conversation today focused on making sure Eli and Everly knew how to react in the case of an active shooter at school or elsewhere...even though, sadly, I know deep down that such preparations may or may not actually impact whether or not they would be able to survive such an incident given the nature in which they've occurred. But NOT preparing them would most certainly fail them. Finding the words to explain why such an evil act has and could happen was difficult enough, but then explaining it to a first grader without terrifying her was even harder. 

We should never have to look into our children's eyes and see absolute fear...and in Evie's case, tears of a reality she should never have to know exists at her age. ...but the reality is here and not preparing them for the possibility is, for me, not an option. 

Active shooter response has joined the ranks of stranger danger, drug free awareness and fire safety...and it's absolutely sickening.

Be kind. Be humble. Be loving.

Robin Williams - one of my heroes and one of the men who transcends all of our notions of who is okay...and who is not, the man who has reminded us that not all we see is what we should believe. The man silently suffering while you and I sit back and take in his comedy. 

My take:

Robin Williams - the funniest man in the world battling his own inner demons...and they won. He’s the epitome of what we think could never happen, but does. He’s the one who showed us that even the person in the room who appears the happiest, who appears to have it all together, doesn’t. Be aware of your surroundings. We’re all suffering from something - what it is may not be seen. 

Be kind. Be humble. Be loving.

robin williams.jpg

Mirror

A sixth grade student sang this song at a talent show yesterday and I was enamored with the words...and so impressed with the message this young girl was sharing with her peers. I wanted to save the lyrics for Everly and pray that I am able to pass on this positive message to her, above and beyond what society preaches on a daily basis.

"Mirror"
Barlow Girl

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, Have I got it?
'Cause Mirror you've always told me who I am
I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect
So sorry you won't define me
Sorry you don't own me

Who are you to tell me
That I'm less than what I should be?
Who are you? Who are you?
I don't need to listen
To the list of things I should do
I won't try, I won't try

Mirror I am seeing a new reflection
I'm looking into the eyes
of He who made me
And to Him I have beauty beyond compare
I know He defines me (Yeah)

Who are you tell me
that I'm less than what I should be
Who are you?
Who are you? (Yeah)
I don't need to listen
To the list of things I should do
I won't try, no, I won't try

You don't define me (You don't define me) [x4]

Who are you to tell me
That I'm less than what I should be
Who are you?
Who are you?
Yeah!
I don't need to listen
To the list of things I should do
I won't try, no, I won't try
Yeah

Who are you to tell me
That I'm less than what I should be
Who are you?
Who are you?
Yeah
I don't need to listen
To the list of things I should do
I won't try, no, I won't try

**originally posted December 11, 2011

The Path.

Within two weeks, I will become the Board President for Family Support Services. While I was honored to be chosen to serve, I hadn't really thought deeply about what this service really meant to me. That all changed in an instant at the Christmas dinner last night, as I listened to the testimonials of the outgoing president, featured client and volunteer. I realized that God has led me to this post for a reason - not only for the agency, but for myself.

You see, I understand what so many of the clients feel. I was that 3 year old girl, stepping off a plane from Boston with my mother who was carrying two suitcases containing our only worldly possessions. Without the support of my aunt, we would have needed the help of the shelter. Without the inexpensive items at Goodwill and on the "sale (or soon to expire) rack" at the grocery store, we would have needed the help of the local food pantry.

As a college student dealing with the pain of my past and the uncertainty of my future, I reached out for counseling services. Services, I believe, saved my life. You see, I was also thinking of why ending it all was a better option than living.

And as a young adult, I felt the pain of abuse. I hid the bruises from family and friends. I felt the extreme shame, because you see, I was headed down a successful career path. These things shouldn't be happening to me. I shouldn't have let them happen to me. 

My pain and my experiences were short-lived and nothing compared to what our clients have experienced, but I felt it, lived it, nonetheless. I am thankful now that God prepared me to empathize with those we serve. I'm thankful for the path...and excited for the future ahead.

**originally posted December 13, 2011

Pregnancy Perils

Ah, Pregnancy! I couldn't help but jot down a few of the "perils" I encountered while pregnant with my beautiful Everly Verona. :)

• Please refrain from telling me how big I’ve gotten, how I’m “blossoming,” or how I’m really showing since last time you saw me. I know. I have a mirror at home. I break down in front of it at least once a week. How about let’s try this in the future – “You look so cute.” Or if I don’t, don’t comment on my appearance at all. Simply ask about the baby – when she’s due or if we’ve picked a name. It’s pretty simple.
• On the same note, while I’m overeager to share the name of my sweet bundle of joy, not everyone is. That’s their choice. When you DO ask about the baby’s name and they tell you they’re keeping it a secret…that’s a sign to LEAVE THEM ALONE. They haven’t told their family, why in the world would you think you’ll be able to break them down and talk them into telling you? I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be. 
• Speaking of, I also have friends who don’t plan to have babies now – or maybe even ever. That’s ALSO their choice. I’ll never understand how Random Person thinks it’s appropriate to quiz someone about their decision – especially in Random Place, like a crowded restaurant. Unless you plan on carrying and caring for the sweet baby, also LEAVE THEM ALONE. 
• Yes, my previous “steel trap” of a brain has turned into partial mush. I realize I’m forgetful. It also makes me a bit crazy. That’s why it’s best not to blame my “baby brain” for anything that’s forgotten. 
• It’s incredibly difficult to find the balance between thankfulness and complaints. Let me explain. I don’t feel good. I’ve gained a crazy amount of weight on my otherwise rather small physique in a short amount of time. My hormones are a wreck and I can’t sleep. BUT I know I’m incredibly blessed that God has chosen me to house this little miracle. So…that being said…when you ask me how I’m feeling, I really want to yell how I REALLY feel, but I don’t. My statement at that moment tends to be, “I feel pregnant.”
• I feel like I’m drowning in water. Not literally, mind you, but my twice-hourly visits to the bathroom really cramp my productivity. And my doctor wants me to drink MORE water to combat my body’s obvious resistance to the increased blood flow. Eesh. Every 20 minutes it is.
• Please don’t tell me how you or someone you know is absolutely precious pregnant. That’s wonderful – I’m excited for them. But I feel and look anything but precious, so I’m not really interested in hearing about how adorable they are.
• On that same note, please also refrain from telling me how you or so-in-so were wearing your pre-pregnancy clothes within a week or two of delivery. I don’t care. I won’t be and I need to be fine with that, so you’re not helping. Oh – and I may ruffle some feathers, but I really question whether that’s entirely healthy. Just sayin’. Everyone’s body is different…so please put your miracle stories away and I’ll focus on what’s to come.
• I’m pregnant. I’m hungry. And I can’t have the luxury of wine, so please do not comment on how much I’m eating. I’M GROWING A HUMAN BEING IN MY STOMACH. If I want to eat something, I’m going to. Until my doctor says there’s a problem, that’s what’s going to happen. Period.
• Reiterating the comment above…I can’t have wine. Therefore I tend to be a bit cranky after a long day of work. I do my best to avoid people. You might want to do your best to avoid me. ;)
• I am incredibly tired. Not just a little sleepy, but exhausted. I know this, because I can barely keep my eyes open and my arms feel like I’m carrying 20 pound weights at all times. I also know this because at least one person a day tells me how tired I look. That helps.
• I had another point to make here, but I lost it. Yes, baby brain. But only I can blame that. ;)
• Oh – remembered! Please don’t tell me that you know I’m carrying a little girl, because my looks have changed. Especially when you add not to worry, that you get your looks back after the baby’s born. Translation: wow – you’re fat and ugly. That’s not nice. I realize it’s an old wives’ tale, but just like dangling a piece of string above someone’s stomach to determine the sex of the baby, it doesn’t mean anything to me. It just means I’m fat and ugly.
• Being pregnant is the best way to find out all of the birthdays surrounding the due date of your baby. No matter who you tell, you find out the birthdays of everyone in their family who is near that date. What’s odd to me, though, is when Random Person seems to be offended when you say you’d rather not have to wait 10 days AFTER the due date to make sure your child’s born on Random Person’s Cousin’s birthday. Like I have any control anyway. 
• Dear Waiter, it’s not really all that funny to bring out extra sauce “to the pregnant woman at table 12.” Anyone who knows me, knows I love my condiments even when I’m NOT pregnant…so please refrain from this type of comedy. 
• Dear Wine Bar Owner, do not approach me minutes after I enter your establishment to tell me that you cannot serve me alcohol. Um, I was there to hear a friend play – not to jeopardize the health of my unborn baby by imbibing in tons of your wine, thank you. On the other hand, many doctors say it’s fine to drink even one glass of wine a day - so who are you to tell me or anyone else what we can and cannot do. I choose not to drink at all. My choice. I don’t appreciate you making a scene like you’re having to cut me off. Maybe you should have focused more on the hand full of people I saw leaving your establishment obviously drunk that evening. 
• There’s something a little demoralizing about not being able to bend over and tie your shoelaces. It’s not a good feeling.
• I realize my September due date was not good timing – and that I’ll have to go through the heat of the summer. It’s 100 degrees outside, so I’m obviously aware. We were shooting for October/November, but God had a different plan. There’s not a whole lot I can do about it at this point!
• By the way, this is a TEN month process instead of NINE months. I’m not sure who came up with that substantial lie, but it’s a huge difference!
• My daughter’s name is Everly Verona. I obviously love the name or I wouldn’t subject her to it for the REST OF HER LIFE. So, even if you don’t like it, please pretend to – or don’t ask to begin with. I’m not going to change her name just because Random Person says, “Oh.” with a confused look, so really at this point, you’re just being rude. 
• While I realize that my physical condition is obvious, what I plan to do with other parts of my physique really isn’t any of your business. It is never appropriate to ask someone if they are planning to breastfeed. If you feel it necessary, at least use the word “nurse.” On second thought, just don’t ever feel it’s necessary. Nursing is something that many women are incredibly uncomfortable discussing – especially if they’re first-time moms and they’re not sure if it’s something they’re interested in doing or not. I’m more open to discussing it, simply because I did with Eli and plan to with Everly, but even I don’t particularly enjoy having long, personal conversations about my breasts with Random Person. 
• I also realize that I have developed a small waddle with my walk. It will only get worse as I get closer to my due date and there’s not much I can do about it. Again, I’m pregnant. You know that, because just yesterday you commented on how much bigger I’d gotten since the last time you’d seen me. Last week. Just so we’re clear - I’m carrying an extra human being – be it a small one - and my center of gravity is a bit off. While the waddle may be cute to you, it is NOT cute in any way to me. In fact, I find it much more enjoyable when you don’t point it out. 
• It’s always important to think before you speak. Case in point. The following statement isn’t very nice: “Wow, you’re about to have that baby, huh?!” I still have six weeks to go. See, if you had thought before you spoke, you might have realized that you have no way to gauge the timing of her impending birth…so it’s best not to suggest it’s tomorrow.
• I have decided that hitting the 33 week mark cues something in others to discuss the position of your increasing belly. I can’t tell that she’s dropped, so I really don’t understand how you can either. Or, how you can tell that the baby of my friend who’s due a week after me has also dropped. It’s intriguing to me that we can both get the same comments in the same week at separate places of employment.
• I can now identify with a beached whale. Rolling over in bed just isn’t the same. If it wasn’t so much work – and so uncomfortable – it would be funny. But, ask my husband who accidentally laughed…it’s not. ;)
• Despite the physical toll of hormones and extra weight, your self esteem can only take so much. :) I hope this puts into perspective a little of what pregnant women go through – and why they may be a little more irritable than normal. Please be sweet to them.

**originally posted November 16, 2010

Eli - Preschool Graduation!

Eli is officially a graduate of First Baptist Church's Christian Learning Center. :) He was such a big boy at his graduation and was so proud of himself. His teachers asked all of the children what they would like to be when they grow up and Eli stuck to his standby - a policeman. We'll see. :) I'm also adding a picture of Eli and his girlfriend Kamryn. He absolutely loves this little girl and I think she is so precious! :) He has good taste!

**originally posted May 19, 2009

Live in the Moment.

"We live but a fraction of our lives."

Henry David Thoreau

How very true that simple statement is. I've always been one to look forward to the next big thing or event in my life - be it something as meaningful as the birth of my child or something as entertaining as a trip with friends. But it's never been more true than it is now. I count down the days, but forget that as I count, I lose a part of my life that I can't get back. I know I'm being sentimental...but after spending the last 48 hours cranky because life isn't always fair, I decided I need to focus again on the things that make me happy. Every day. Now, that doesn't mean I won't long for that next special time, but it does mean that I'll live every longing moment. ;)

"Use your precious moments to live life fully

every single second of every single day."

Marcia Wieder

**originally posted January 8, 2008

Eli - Heaven?!

My baby boy is four. It doesn't seem possible that four years ago yesterday, I was in the hospital praying that my sweet little angel would be healthy (and would HURRY up and get here)! ;) In fact, I told Eli the story right when we woke up yesterday morning...right after I told him Happy Birthday and that he was now officially four years old. Which, a little side note here, was the funniest thing ever! He was so excited...he giggled a bit, said "I'm FOUR" over and over again, then giggled some more. He then followed up with, "I feel so BIG!" Lol. Okay - back to the original story. I told him that four years ago today, I was in the hospital. He interrupted right away and said, "Oh no, Mommy! Why?" I explained that I was in the hospital to get him out of my tummy... He said, "Oh, oh! I 'member that!" I said "Oh, you do?" laughed, then we got up and got ready for church. At lunch, I was telling my little brother the story and Eli interjected that he DOES remember. He said it was like a swimming pool in there, and a park, and the ice cream man was there and God was there. Hmmm...I had to ask if he really thought Mommy's tummy was big enough for all of that (which at the time, I certainly felt like it was), but in all sincerity, it made me wonder if in some way our little ones DO remember. All of those things would be like Heaven for Eli...a little slice of Heaven before entering the "real world." Just a little something to ponder.

**originally posted March 31, 2008

Trust.

The issue of trust plagues my thoughts today, so I looked for advice - where else? - on the web. Here are a few of the quotes I found.
 

"Trust is like a vase. Once it's broken...though you can fix it, the vase will never be the same again."

"Follow your heart, but be quiet for a while first. Ask questions, then feel the answer. Learn to trust your heart."

"You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough."


The "advice" I found just complicates things all the more. I'll take the second and try to trust my heart...and pray that the Lord places the real "advice" directly on it.

**originally posted March 31, 2008