Seeing Things

Now I know things look a little different here, but those aren't the things I am seeing. I'm not talking about wallpaper and font or type size and quippy titles. I am talking about numbers. Here is a list of numbers that look just a little differently now that it is February. 

13 that's the age of my oldest son. 

2- he's the second kid out of several. 

11.5- his shoe size

5'8"- his height

1- the number of girls he has a crush on 

1- the number of girls he gave a handmade card and a candy bar to this week because she had a birthday. 

4- his age when he began introducing himself as "a pastor here" at our church. 

19- the age he wants to be when he gets married. 

6- his football number when he was just a tiny little sprout

1- the number of girls he has asked to a school dance. 

0- the number of rejections he has received when inviting a girl to a school dance. 

4- the number of inches he has to grow to be as tall as his dad. 

2- his average intake of cheeseburgers. 

2- the number of times he has shaved. 

8- the number of times he has watched Tommy Boy. 

1 gazillion- the number of times he has quoted Tommy Boy. 

Countless- the number of times he has made my heart leap- good and bad. 

I love you my Elijah Daniel. 

Downton Abbey

You know those shows where everyone keeps telling you, "it's so great; you HAVE to watch it," or, "You are going to love it. Watch it,"? Well. Usually, I don't like it at all. I'm not being a rebel. It's just that usually the how doesn't live up to the hype. I didn't build the hype. I'm not the Great White Hype, which leads me to a favorite quote:

"My father used to say 'laugh and the world laughs with you; cry, and I'll give you something to cry about you little bastard!'"

I wish I was that good of a writer. Anyhow. To the point of this post. Downton Abbey. Mr. Bates. Lady Granthum. Lady Mary. Matthew Crawley. Lady Sybil. I love them all. Someone said "you HAVE to watch this show" so I did. And it worked. I love them. I'm beside myself with the waiting. I haven't a clue when the next show is on and when season four will be available on DVD. But I want to go back and re watch them until it does. 

Why? Because it makes the new British accent in my head justifiable.

 If you've a hankering for a not so simpler time and a great look into the rich life of the early 20th century, check out Downton Abbey. Mention my name and receive nothing whatsoever. Not even a wink or an atta girl or a jolly good show young chap. But you might decide you are suddenly happy you aren't rich and yet still want old lady Granthum as your Gram. She's brilliant. 

It All Changes So Fast

What a whirlwind two weeks. Three weeks ago I felt the tug to put my kids in school. All of them. I prayed and pondered for about a minute before I knew it was right. Of course it was the middle of the night. Just see my last post if you need clarification.  

I got on my phone and Googled my options. Slim, I tell ya. I asked around. I stopped a woman in the grocery store whose child appeared to be wearing uniforms. (I wasn't searching for a uniform promoting school. I am anti-uniforms for what I feel are very good reasons, but that post is still in draft mode. Be patient). Anyway. Her girls go to a magnet school in their neighborhood. Nowhere near me. I called two charter schools. Full. One offered to give us a tour and put us on the waiting list. There are four people on the list and their names are all my children. We missed it by four kids. 

We discussed. Argued some. Prayed. Welled up over the implications of sending my babies to school. Had a couple conversations with some truth speaking, wise parents/besties. 

Then we got a call last Tuesday saying kid number four could start ASAP. I left work and purchased her uniforms. Bah. 

We waited three more days and signed my number two and three up for their local zoned middle school. I cried. Threw an inter-tantrum. And rallied in my mind before handi

ng over their file and registration. 

Now? Now I homeschool kid five and work and drive 17 places a day. Why didn't someone tell me there was so much driving? Why didn't someone say how time consuming it is to send your kids to school. I promise you homeschooling takes less time and coordination, but so much good is coming from the kids in school. 

My favorite so far is my time with Sam. That kid is more than hilarious. I don't even know what word comes after hilarious, but that is Sam. 

As we were driving downtown Addie was reading a casino sign. "We've loosened our slots". Sam laughed hysterically and yelled "DISGUSTING"

Now that's funny stuff. 

Meanwhile. I would like to tip my hat to large families in school. That takes an amazing mamma. I'm working on it. 

I have five kids in four different schools. So I started drinking. HA. Ok. I simply added a cup of joe to my daily grind. 

I am also hoping to add a chiropractor, massages, and the gym. And yes. I am still considering a house keeper. More than ever actually. Try and stop me Napoleon. 

If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em

This is true of so many things. People eating chocolate when you woke up thinking diet, for instance. Also, four o'clock. This morning, like at least 3 out of 5 week day mornings, I awoke between 2 and 4. Actually. I might be lying. I popped my right eye open, and then I read my clock. 4:01. That's a stupid time.
It happens SO much now that I've developed a few strategies. When my husband is gone, I catch up on emails, blogs, postings, Instagrams, iPhone games. It's all nonsense, so why WOULDN'T I look into it in the middle of the night? When he is home, I just lie there in what feels like a beside myself manner. I go over my day to come and what's for dinner and who I should call and how I could rearrange my closet. The most bizarre things occur to me during this time.

"I used the last of the milk in the potatoes. No milk for breakfast."
"I told a friend I could watch her baby, but I just remembered I am supposed to take my own child somewhere."
"Shoot. That email I sent was missing the attachment."
"I sneeze. Every time I use the downstairs soap I sneeze for at least five minutes. I am allergic to lavender. Why did I buy lavender soap? Why do I keep using it?"

Helpful, but untimely. I have ranged from teary at the sight of these awful hours on my alarm clock to morose. From just-give-in-to-it to maybe-I-could-be-productive. It really just depends on the morning. This morning, I gave in.

4:01 eyes popped wide open. I chose to lie in bed until 4:36. Not a minute sooner. I came downstairs, chose water over coffee (obviously my mental state is questionable), and opened my computer to iTunes and THE BOOK. I edited a chapter. I stumbled upon some pictures from 2004 and 2006. I laughed out loud once before I realized it was the ungodly time. And then I ate breakfast.

It was one of the most productive days I've ever had. OK!? THERE. I said it. But now it's 8:30 pee em. I can't keep my eyes open. I want coffee. And the only reason I want to stay awake is to watch television. To be specific, New Girl. Which is recording. Because I didn't actually cancel my cable yet. I was too tired.

I'm not sure how long I can keep this up.

Yours,
The Girl With the Shifty Eyes and Drool on One Side

Thoughts at Odds

You know what matters? My memories. 

Do you know what doesn't? Money. 

Don't worry; this won't be one of those money hating posts. I love the stuff. I grab some any chance I get, but there has to be a minute that we stop and consider the pros and cons of the life we are creating for ourselves (not to be confused with what God has for us). 

There are some things at odds in my head. I used to know how each theoretical gift weighed out on my mental scale, but I've found the balance tipping a bit, and I don't understand my own thoughts anymore. What I mean is, I think my mind is changing of its own accord. 

I would rather spend ten minutes snuggling and catching up on my daughter's day than have a break in my day. 

Laughter over money. 

Freedom and light shoulders over one more shopping spree. 

Five minutes listening to Samuel tell a joke rather than catching up on my Instagram. 

And these steps lead to further steps which lead to. You guessed it. More steps. Pretty soon I've stepped so far from that silly wasted life that I can't remember what held me there in the first place. 

I want to be the kind of wife and mother who can truly say she has no regrets. Of course I plan to make mistakes, and I'm not willing to give up arguing with my husband because the making up is just too worth it. But I won't regret them. I want to lean and grow and perceive and change and grasp meaning. I want to replace the wasted time away and pour deeper in to the relationships I have. I'm so abundantly blessed with a loyal, loving, and kind man. My kids? Forgettuh boutit. We are five matches made in heaven. Literally. My parents? Friends? Pastors? All precious gifts. 

This month, when love is in the air and chocolate is hiding in my pocket, I aim to be intentional about people knowing just what they mean to me. And I want to show them in a way that matters to them. I plan to take the time to find out what tht means and then follow up with an action. 

Words, Time, Acts of Service, Gifts, Touch. These five major ways of communicating are my focus this month. 

How can you show you love someone?