We came. We saw. We found a foam finger

Best mamma/daughter date ever. Layla Grace was so surprised when she found out we were going to Stanford for the big tour!! She jumped and whooped and screamed a little. But the whole weekend was great. Itinerary as follows:
-Depart Reno
-Drive to Walmart for pedicures
-Score some smokin classroom supplies for cheap while we wait
-Drive to Ikea to browse and dream an swoon
-settle on a few practical items and a couple of artificial plants
-lunch it up with salad, chicken strips, and chocolate cake. Obviously.
-Drive two hours to our hotel all the while Layla Grace asks questions about our BIG destination along the way (each question will receive a yes, no, or could be answer)
-Stop at in n out for a potty break and Layla gets her epiphany. We are going to Stanford. WOOHOO. we jump around in the bathroom a while and Layla insist on calling their bathrooms "a magical place"
-Check into our hotel, get dinner in the lobby and bring it back to our room to eat while we watch 13 Going on 30.
-debate whether to watch Just Like Heaven or something else.
-Decide to take our books and sit in the courtyard outside of our room by the fire pit. This lasts at least an hour. It was my favorite.
-Find a map of Stanford in the lobby
-Layla memorizes said map before we sleep
-wake up to a flat tire. Boo
-I put on my wonder woman costume, cape and cuffs included, and change my tire
-bahaha and by that I mean I call roadside assistance
-we head back inside for breakfast an gather our beeswax before heading up the road to Sears where most of the people who work there are awesome. Most.
-arrange for tires and tire business to be conducted later. After Stanford.
-park downtown, just outside Stanford's entrance and "happen to" run into Layla Grace's BFF from Reno.
-they run to meet each other in shock and awe and happiness.
-drive for 15 minutes looking for a parking spot on campus. Sheesh people.
-look at any and everything from the church to the mailboxes, statues to the bathrooms, ice cream counter to the gift store bursting with foam fingers.
-visit the top of the Hoover tower. Awesome.
-hug our happy goodbyes and take tons of pics
-Layla Grace promises the halls she will be back in no time
-I remain strong and do NOT buy a Stanford mom sweatshirt. I want one. But well. Maybe it's too early.
-We head back to Sears for tire repair and walk next door to the creepiest mall ever while we wait.
-realize size 0 is still too big on Layla even though she is taller than many women.
-get the car and head home
-Layla Grace leans over and says "thanks mamma. This was the best date ever."

Dreams

When I was a kid, my parents said I could be anything. I had lofty career goals. A few of them stuck, but not before making plans to be an oceanographer, a lawyer, an astronaut, and a vet. The whole vet thing was ruled way out when I observed people who actually LOVE animals. Not me so much. Nope.
I actually talked with my high school counselor about being an oceanographer, but again ruled it out because I don't like the ocean. I really don't. I mean. I LOVE the atmosphere and all, but I like the ocean on a cloudy day under a blanket with a book. Oh. And again with the animals and blood and grossness. Can't do it.
Middle school was my NASA phase. It was legit. I watched Space Camp more times than you have said "Tom Foolery" and I even did a fundraiser to send myself to space camp. In Florida. The real thing. My best friend went. I got grounded for sneaking out of the house for a boy. Sigh
The lawyer lost out to the teacher because I hate suits, I hate panty hose, and frankly I just didn't want to spend that much time at university to get my degree. Also. God told me to be a teacher. I was seven and I was standing in my room drawing on a chalk board teaching my stuffed animals.
So, when Layla Grace, my brilliant ten year old, came home from school and said she wanted to go to Stanford for college and could I please look it up to make sure it wasn't too far from home, I happily obliged. That was first grade. She has sprouted a love of knowledge and determination that can only be stirred by the Holy Spirit. She regularly asks me questions about college and what I think college will be like at Stanford.
About a year ago, I sat us both down with a cup of coffee (we are decaf drinkers) and we pulled up Stanford's website and answered any question she could possibly think of. We looked at every page. Hours later, she got up from that computer more determined than ever. She asked if her grades in elementary school matter to a university like Stanford.
For her birthday this last March, we had a friend arrange for us to purchase a hoodie, tree and all, from the gift shop on campus. THE CAMPUS. it was perfect. She hasn't taken it off much. Not even this summer.
In June, she took it upon herself to write Stanford admissions and ask them all sorts of questions about bettering her chances of getting accepted. I love this girl. How can you not love this girl???? Try it. You won't last. She's rad. The end.
Anyway. We contacted our sweatshirt buying friend a few weeks ago. She said she could get us in for a tour. So this morning. After I type this blog. My future tree and I get to load up and take a road trip. Beach. Books. Bookstores. Coffee and lots of it. And lunch and a tour of Stanford.
She may have been seven when she came up with this little plan, but she has been devoted to it since. Sometimes parents can help fan a spark that one day leads to greatness. That's my plan. Not to tell her to stop worrying because it's so far away. Not to brush her off and say she probably just heard about Stanford in a movie. Not to douse her dreams because I know that university costs $52,000 a year. I know what it's like to carry something since you are seven. God put many people in my life to fan that little spark. I am so grateful. My students are grateful.
See you on the flip side! I gotta go fan some sparks.

Two Face Tony

Sometimes I put my big fat foot in my mouth. Down there, see me pointing, I went ON AND ON about how much Pintrest overwhelms me. I thought about joining a support group. I thought about getting my drink on and putting balls to the walls till I mastered that website. (what a gross saying. I won't ever use it again. What does it mean!) anyhow.
Then. Last night. Or rather, this morning at 4am. I found that Pintrest offers an app. FOR FREE. I was on there for a smooth 20 minutes. Or an hour. Whatevers. I got the app. Happy!!?

I figured it out

Sometimes I want to change my house around and liven the colors and be spontaneous. Usually I say, to no one in particular, "I am wanting to change my house decor. It's been the same for so long. I kind of know what I want." and that person throws out endless questions to help me put my new vision into words.
The problem I find is that most people want me to visit pinterest, only that site makes my nostrils flare and my hairs stand and my fingers coil. I love when someone shares something they learned on that site. I don't mind talking about things ON the site. But things happen when I visit and have to begin searching for things. I confuse easily, apparently. Well, I won't subject myself to that.
Instead I will do a Google search and spend no less than one hour scrolling through images until I begin to sense a theme in the pictures I have saved.

I know what I was trying to say now. My new house is gonna be decorated in the oh so my style of farmhouse chic. A little old. A little new. A little this. A little that. A lotta red. I am thrilled to put a title to it. And to be honest, I feel like this research gave me a label for my entire lifestyle.

I am not quite a Flower Patch Farm Girl. I am no PW. I wish I had the skills Organizing Made Fun throws out. And I lack the ingenuity of Mothering with Creativity. Instead I am farmhouse chic.

My Espresso leather chairs that flank my dark and tattered table will blend fantastically with the red, beat down rustic farmhouse shaker chairs. My faded leather cowgirl boots will side nicely with my grey old navy flops. My hand embroidered throw pillows get along smashingly with my dilapidated rustic garden gate hanging on my wall.
My vintage green owl necklace pairs well with my banana republic tan cardigan and designer jeans.
Yup. That's me. Art town meets hay field. Tractor meets Lucky jeans. Pot bellied stove meets Tiffany lamp. Tattoos meets vintage paridot ring set in chocolate diamonds. Farmhouse chic. Let's get to it, shall we?

This just in

Praise the Lord!! We found a house!!! It's a beaut Clark! Thanks for all your prayers. Wanna stay for dinner? Wanna stay forever?
Surreal: that's the word I sense when I look at my life right now. A month ago I was fighting for contentment. We were brewing compost tea and looking forward to our new little girl hens offering fresh eggs. Our garden was flourishing, and I was making headway in my book. For real.
Then I read Flower Patch Farm Girl and she spent an entire post saying "Anything, God. I am up for anything. I will do anything. What's that you say God? Sure. I can do that and anything else you want. I love you more than me. I want to love them more than me. Anything". I felt inspired. But I was wimpy and trying to be honest with myself. So I whispered, "lord. I could do anything" but then I screamed "BUT DON'T MAKE IT HURT!!"
Then I picked up the phone. We aren't wanna be homesteaders anymore. We aren't contemplating that five acres we had our eye on. Mike is no longer considering cowboy boots and a riding mower.
Instead I am imagining where to put my new dressers and where I want the tv. Instead I am working on lesson plans to keep kindergarten kiddos entertained for the year. Instead I am considering which new gym to join and thinking up organization techniques that will make simple tasks of our new lives: two full time working parents and five kids in school full time.
It's not that any if this is bad. It's just that now I need to embrace a different lifestyle. We lived here for seven years, but it's as if we are starting all over. I don't want to feel down. When people ask if I am happy to be back, I want to say thrilled and mean it. But I need time to process.
I read psalms to help me. I read psalm 1- one of my total faves. I repeated the word "anything. Anything, Lord" because even through the whisper, I meant it. Even through my fears and so much unknown. I meant it. God showed me that I can be like a tree planted by streams. Fruitful. Plentiful. I felt good about myself that God was speaking to me. That I was feeling his reassurance. I even extended myself grace during this transition time. I allowed myself the opportunity to just focus on me and my house and my family. I am obviously so great. It's not like I have to jump right into life. It's summer after all. Sigh.

Then he showed me the verse that says "in EVERY season, I produce fruit." and he brought back the words I whispered. "anything, Lord". Then I spent time repenting that I am an idiot. That I could lead the parade for idiots. And I thanked him again for ever allowing me to be part of anything for his kingdom.
I am trying to be fruitful. I am willing to do anything. Sigh. Anything Lord.

We are moving in to our house tomorrow. Prayers and any abled bodies are welcome.

My Fellow Reno Onions

Please!! Lend me your ear. We need a house to rent. Any of you know of one available now or soon? Hook a sister up. We are in need of a four bedroom. We have a lot of freaking kids. Thanks ;)

Psalm 23 is No Joke

Sometimes passages in the Bible can feel mundane. Blasphemer, I know. But I am just being honest.

It's the same as doing anything simply because you are supposed to. Communion, making that cross on your chest before you do something stupid, throwing salt over your shoulder, reciting Psalm 23 because that's the way it's always been.
Other times, I read a passage that seems over spoken, over quoted, over played, and God seems to open my eyes and heart and mind all at the same time. I can taste the truth. It hurts in the way that when God revealed himself to Moses on the mountain he could only show the light of himself, not his whole being. It's too much.
After two weeks of an intense life uprooting for my family, we moved nearly all of our belongings to Reno. We live here now.
Two weeks is a very short amount of time to make decisions and take action for a family of seven. We sold chickens and chicken coops. We prepared the garden for new comers. We changed addresses and services and mindsets. We found a home for our pooch. We purged no less than 25 bags of garbage, 45 gallon trash bags. We donated a house worth of nonsense to Goodwill.
Intense is too casual a word.

We arrived Saturday night and slept most of Sunday. We half-heartedly looked for a house to rent, but I was slurring like a sailor and I couldn't concentrate on anything but my pillow. Today, however, we are full gusto. I started with a mean game of Blokus with the kids and coffee. Then I opened my bible.

Psalm 23. It seemed trite. After all, when you have been a Christian as long as I have, things seem so early 90s sometimes. And then, I pull my head out and realize God ALWAYS has things to say to me and his word is alive and appropriate in every season of my life. I am such a cotton headed ninny muggins sometimes (aka usually).

My travel bible has an excellent translation:

The Lord is my shepherd;

I have all that I need.

(No house, no job for the summer, no plan for dinner. But I have all I need)

He lets me rest in green meadows;

He leads me beside peaceful streams.
(I deserve deserts and swamps and my choices often lead me to vast canyons, but He leads me to amazing views and peace filled valleys.)

He guides me along right paths,

bringing honor to his name.

(I ask for wisdom, and he is faithful to give it)

Even when I walk through the darkest valley,

I will not be afraid,

for you are close beside me.

(I do not know what any second other than this one truly holds, your ways are mysterious, but your faithfulness isn't. It's dependable. It's solid. It's constant. It's more than I often think to hope for.)

Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.

(Even if it turns out that I am a total screw up, you are for me. You protect me even when I don't know I need it.)

You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies.

You honor me by anointing my head with oil.

My cup overflows with blessings.

(Despite my issues, I want to obey you and you want to bless me. More than sustaining me, you cause me to overflow. You set me apart from the enemy's plans and offer me life abundant.)

Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life,

and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.

(absoluteness. Not maybe. SURELY your goodness is for me. I know that you are for me. That means who can be against me? Nothing. Not one person. And forever. forEVER I get to have you as me Lord.)

amen. And thanks Lord. Teach me to bless others as you have blessed me. My thinking is too small. Make it more like Psalm 23. Not at all mundane or ritualistic.

Flashback Friday: A link up

Sometimes, my heart needs a good flash back. Rose She Goes and Beautiful Life are joining me to triple team you with the best parade of flash backs. Ever.

We are counting on you to link up and make our Friday moving, humorous, high kicking, giggly, and worthy of being reminisced. Won't you link up with us?

Click on the picture above and get on the flashback bus. Get it? I used a pun. I hate puns. I hate even more when people point them out. It's like I am becoming an old lady jokester. Anyway. Here are the rules:

This is the dealio:

1. You have to have been blogging for at least a year.

2. Link up your old posts from at least a year ago. Don't link up your website, click on the actual title(did you know you could do that?) of your older post and that will give you the link you need to put in the link up. 

3. You should follow your hosts they are funny, you won't regret it.

4. Ha ha Posts and hosts that ryhmes, oh no wait... back to business, um yeah get to know some oldies but goodies out there.

How you do that is read and comment on at least the people before and after you on this link up. 

5. Have fun! That's mandatory.
 My Flashback? I thought you would never ask. I also thought, since we will have some visitors and some returning friends alike, I should show you a typical and honest look at a day in the life of being me.

Just a Day in the Life

AKA, don't let my quasi athletic attire fool you.

CoHosting with my Cohorts

So, I have these two friends. They are slightly awesome with a hint of genius. I am stunned that I get to talk to them every day. Well, we don't speak daily, but we text. It's like having the prayer network and the sarcastic quip of the day right at my fingertips.

We decided to buddy up and co-host. Check back with me Friday morning or some serious flashing back to the beginning of our blogging adventures. You get to join too. If you have been blogging for more than a year, you too are invited to open up your archives and share an oldie but a goodie.

Don't be shy. Spill it. Share it. Confess it. (Actually, Casual Confessions is an upcoming link I plan to host, so check back sometime in the near future.) We would love to reminisce with you. It's like telling old stories around a campfire. So, shove that mallow on a stick and get ready for a s'more.

" I haven't had anything yet, so how can I have some more of nothing?"

"YOU'RE KILLING ME SMALLS"

Love and Not so Loverly Link Up

Linking up with that No(Dots) girl. I can't get enough of her. In fact, she and I are CO-hosting with another fine lady this Friday. Check back in for some bloggy good times. In the meantime, here is today's list.
I LOVE selling stuff on Craig's List.

Not so much that it's addictive. It really is. Try it. No don't. Try it!

I LOVE boys. They are noise with dirt on them.

Not so much the smell my tween boy exudes. so. stinky. send. help.

I LOVE our new adventure of moving.

Not so much the packing and cleaning and dust and remaining dog hairs. blech.

I LOVE leaving my doors and windows open for a sweet cool breeze.

Not so much the fly population in the greater Idaho area. INFESTATION!! Seriously. DIE FLIES. and good riddance.

Link up with me and this girl to share your daily dose of love and not so muches.

Five Minute Friday

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking 2. Link back here and invite others to join in. 3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

Today's Topic?

PATH
The Path I was on a year ago doesn't seem like the path I am on today. I do not know if that means we have strayed then or now. Or maybe it means we have grown beyond the scenery of the paths of old so it's simply unrecognizable. Last Friday, The Man received a phone call from the City of Reno offering him his position back as a fire fighter. Monday, I called my principal from my previous job and she said, "Please come teach our little peanut head kindergarteners." She didn't really word it that way, but that is what I heard.

We accepted both positions and began packing. The whole process will take two weeks. We have to be packed, moved out, and in Reno for a physical June 25. That's next Monday. I thought when I was feeling some separation from my kids' schools here that it meant we would be moving to Boise. I thought when our church was nice but not a skinny jeans type fit that we would find a new church in Boise. Last Monday, I prayed for hours in my bed and refused to move before God washed contentment over me. He did. I got out of bed renewed. And then Reno called to shake the snow globe that is my life. Clearly our path is taking a new course.

STOP

My First Link Up: Let's Talk Tuesday

I am hosting my very first link up! There is a chance I will do this all wrong, but I decided to brave the world of blog hosting in hopes of not only linking you together with bloggers of similar interests, but I also love reading what nonsense is spinning through your head. Here are the rules:

Let's Talk Tuesday

1. What's on your mind? Pick a topic (hopefully random) and give in to a short gab, letting out the pent up thoughts that just need freeing. If you can't think of a topic, you can use mine, but I encourage you to get out whatever has been keeping your brain preoccupied. Examples? Dogs in sweaters; how do you feel about it? Why won't the corners of my sheets stay put? Will my hair be this large in heaven? Should I unpack already packed boxes if I am sure there are things in there I should get rid of? Just free your mind, and start typing.

2. Visit the blog that came before you. The whole point of a link up is to meet someone you may not otherwise run into in the blog-o-sphere.

3. No diatribes. I am not one to dwell on the bitterness. Turn that smile upside down and write about something thought provoking, not something that is going to drive your readers to stick their head under the covers.

4. Grab my Let's Talk Tuesday button and invite people on your blog to link up here.

So, Let's Talk Tuesday: What have I been keeping pent up in this brain of mine? It's more of a question really. When is too soon to share with new friends? Last night I was at a cooking show, because I do this on the side. The side of wife, the side of mom, the side of teacher, the side of writer, the side of blogger. I have a lot of sides. 
So, there I am. It's the end of the demonstration of pizza a chocolate cake (win/win) and I am sitting with the host when her little boy runs in from the backyard and announces to the room of friends (and me. the stranger), "MOM! Jay is PEEING in the DOG bowl!!!" 
As a good supportive mother, I didn't laugh right away. On the outside. As any good mother hosting a house full of women, she spoke over him and pushed him kindly into Dad's arms. When everyone else resumed their boisterous conversations in the other room, I quietly shared with her THIS story. We both laughed until we cried, but the whole way home I kept thinking, "hmmm. Was it too soon to share this story? Was it too soon to let her know I told my son to secretly pee in a stranger's yard?" What do you think? Too soon. 

<div align="center"><a href="http://kreativly.blogspot.com/2012/06/my-first-link-up-lets-talk-tuesday.html" title="Nonsense at its Finest"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a2d824b3127ccef01f13e1b1f900000030O02AZNHLds3Ysge3nwg/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" alt="Nonsense at its Finest" style="border:none;" /></a></div>

Seizing Is Not The Same as Seizure

Sure these two words share a root, but so do koalas and kangaroos. This past week, I have been processing and asking and questioning and releasing in my conversations with God. We have lived in Idaho for almost a year now, and well. It hasn't stuck as quickly as Reno.

In Reno, we went to a church my brother recommended. They had me at free Krispie Cream donuts and coffee. Plus, the pastor actually seemed to be good at what he does. We fit. We just knew it was gonna fit like OJ when he tried on some gloves. Only we saw no need to weasel out of it. We were thrilled. I met two of my closest friends instantly. One is only a blog lurker (dear Ms. Marie. come out of the interwebs closet. We all know you are on here), the other has quite a mouth on her. Everything about the city was great. It was as if we were in a bowl with Reno and someone just added water. Presto Zingo. Instant happiness.

Years went by, and my husband lost his job, and he was offered a new job as a really hot fire fighter in Idaho. We accepted and set about to finding a church and adding water. But instead of instant happiness, our eyes were opened to how good we really had it. Presto Zingo. thump. My head beating against the wall.

I spent a lot of time comparing. I spent a lot of time griping. I spent a lot of time fighting tears. I spent a lot of time spazzing out and lashing out irrationally. Thankfully, God can handle my spastic fits.

Then I realized seizing is not the same as seizures. They may share a root word, but then the similarities end. Whining, tantrums, pity parties, and vocal aggravation: these are things that lead to seizures. Focusing on God's promises of fulfillment for my life, accepting where God has me, and leaning fully on his understanding (rather than my teeny tiny perspective): that's seizing!! It happened this week.

I became content with God's portion and his cup. I realized his lot for me has fallen on pleasant places. I was able to truly thank God for moving us here. I don't think I compared my two cities once. I let Reno go, like ripping that last little part of the bandaid off. And I was OK.

Why does it seem that just when you get comfortable, the rug gets pulled out? About 8 seconds after my bandaid was removed and my contentment washed over me, God said, "Hey, now that we have that covered..."

'It was like that old joke, "All those who think they have it made take one step forward...not so fast George Banks!"'

I am George Banks in this scenario. Only, when I  started processing again I was angry and I accused God of yo-yo'ing me around. AH. God is so good. He didn't even roll his eyes at my stupidity.

It isn't God that's in control of that yo-yo. He is not a yo-yo kind of guy. He may own cattle on a thousand hills, but he doesn't have a yo-yo. No my friend, that childish game is all mine. All me.

That nauseating back and forth of highs and lows is actually my faith. Not God's faithfulness. He is solid and steady and dependable and right and real. And that blasted string is affixed so tightly to my finger. And, honestly, I don't want it to go.

WHAT? I know what you are thinking. Who wants to live life like a yo-yo? But I need to remember what the yo-yo is like, so I don't ever want to go back. Rather than yanking the string off completely, I am asking God to snip it, just enough to leave that little string tied to my finger. And, I am telling God that I am up for anything. ANYthing. Because I totally trust him.

Lord, I totally trust you.

satan. Suck it. I hope you choke on a yo-yo.



 

Loverly and Not so Loverly Wednesdays

I love this link up. (Click that girl. You will love her.)

Not so much the word hate. It's like saying shut up. Always so harsh.

I love vintage.

Not so much the hunting through garage sales and dust. I have an allergy fit for a week after a good antique store.

I love coffee.

Not so much when I am out of creamer and my only option is sugar free. WHAT IS THE POINT? And what is that weird after taste? DARN YOU COFFEE AND YOUR WICKED WOMAN WAYS. I can't quit you.

I love the sense of accomplishment exercise brings.

I hate putting one foot in front of another because that would mean I am having self-control and I have made a lifestyle of living with NO self-control. So, you see? It's counter intuitive.

I love that I am done with school.

I hate that I wake in the middle of the night paranoid that my deferments aren't actually in place and maybe I was supposed to send my right arm and first born to cover the first month's payment. Also, I miss school. No I don't. Yes I do. No I really don't. But I kind of do.

Welcome to Hollywood

If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret? I want to be a writer when I grow up. Some may argue that I am already grown, but I will point my finger back at them and say the fact that I call my self a grown up, and not an adult, proves I am IN FACT a child. I am comfortable with it.

I have given a few tid bits here and there and I have honestly made some headway toward completing this bad boy I call THE BOOK.

Sometimes I get very excited about a project or calling on my life, only to organize and plan, and then I get a fake case of ADHD, and I can be found setting up for a fully different project. I refuse to let this be true of my book. So, in order to be truly welcomed to Hollywood, I am shouting out my dream (this reference should be familiar if you have ever watched Pretty Woman. Everyone who comes to Hollywood has a dream.)

Here is an excerpt. Again. Just so you know I am not going to stop wrestling until I get the blessing I have been promised. This is from chapter one, and I am getting ready to outline how a mother and a missionary are one and the same. (One in the same? Home? Hone? These are the battles that plague me.)

Do you ever feel like you cannot remember your purpose? I mean, maybe you know some of it, but you cannot quite find that big glowing path some of those other joy-filled mothers claim to be following. At the end of the day, you have washed some laundry, dried some dishes, cooked some food for people living in your house, and swept a floor. Still, you are left thinking, “That can’t really be all I am meant to do, right?” Maybe you find yourself pursuing so many paths that between keeping up with your kids’ hectic schedules, your husband’s business dinners, and an ongoing list of ministries, you end each day staring at the wall, mouth agape, wondering what in the world you accomplished. * And, please, do not get me started on giving back to the community, because most days I think showering is about as giving as I can be to others. Unless, of course, you count how many diapers I contribute to the dump each year, the number of children I have added to the earth, or how knowledgeable I am at getting lip gloss out of clothes once they have gone through the dryer. Of course, after I am done with

* Picture Goldie Hawn after her first day of playing ‘mother’ in the movie Overboard. Remember, the kids just kept throwing grapes at her while she mumbled ‘bub buh buub?’

this line of thinking, I start to feel guilty for feeling so useless. (Isn’t our thought process relentless?) One minute I am overwhelmed with my calling and the next I am just confused by it. I do not think God meant it to be so confusing. If you are a mother, your purpose is clear. You may or may not be called to Africa, but you are certainly called to be a missionary. 

I repeat- you ARE called to be a missionary. Take a minute and look around. What do you see? Whom do you see? My friend, you are looking at your mission field. Your mission field is your home, and your mission is to share Jesus with those little (sometimes Aborigines) who call you mommy. 

Please don't plagiarize me. It's considered poor form. Please be blessed. DO IT! Sorry I bossed you. I just really want you to feel blessed and challenged and encouraged that you are not alone in this confusing mess called mothering.

The * is a foot note that (outside of this blog) is located in the foot note department, not the middle of my work.  

 

Revealing

God is so good at revealing. He brings everything together in the end better than any Seinfeld episode ever could, which is saying something. My morning coffee and God time went something like this: Prayers, Worship, Word.

This is an excerpt from this morning's prayer journal:

It's so much, this burden I carry.
(You picked up the wrong bag.)
I know. I do. Everyday.
(Let go.)
I want to. But I am double minded. I want to. I want you and every bit of what you have planned- even the more painful plans, but I have relied heavily on self-preservation my entire life. It's counter thinking to release this control.
(How are you doing?)
I am not well. Not at all. I am outside your will every second I hang on to it.
(Let go)
I CAN'T!!
(Let go.)
It hurts. My hands have been gripped around the ropes that hold this burden for too long. They are intertwined. They are fused. My knuckles are white.
(Let go.)
You don't know how much it hurts.
(Don't I? Does it feel like the cross?)
NO, LORD!! How can you even compare the two!!?
(Because you are. I know. Daughter. Let go.)
I am sorry. Again and again. You suffered so much more. Unbearable physical pain, mental pain, and we broke your heart. You CHOSE us and we chose to follow fear....like now. I am choosing fear. Forgive me.
(Let go.)
I'm letting. I'm trying. I am leaning. Will you keep reminding me? Because I seem to let go and then I pick it up again without realizing.
(Yes. See you in five minutes.)
Very funny. I am picking up on your sarcasm.
(I should hope so. I am laying it on rather thick.)
Thank you for loving me for who YOU are and not for what I've done.
(anytime. all the time. every time.)

Then I closed my eyes for a second and realized Jeremy Camp was singing these words to me:

All authority
every victory
is yours

Savior, worthy of honor and glory
worthy of all our praise
you overcame

We will overcome by the blood of the lamb and the word of our testimony- everyone will overcome

THEN, I turned to my Bible study, which is all about healthy living and not at all about what I thought I was discussing with God. It said to read 1 Thessalonians 1:4-5-

For we know, brothers loved by God, that he has chosen you, because our gospel came to you not simply with words, but also with power, with the Holy Spirit, and with deep conviction.

AND, 1Thessalonians 5:24 The one who calls you is faithful, and HE will do it.

AND FINALLY, Deuteronomy 13:3-4
The Lord your God is testing you to find out whether you love him with all your heart and with all your soul. It is the Lord your God you must follow, and him you must revere. Keep his commands and obey him; serve him and hold fast to him.

Sometimes God works everything together in such an obvious message it's as if he is causing a bush to catch fire without really burning. Therefore, the only thing left to do is take off your shoes and praise him. This is holy ground. All other ground is sinking sand.
I see Lord. I SEE.

The rules for today's link up?
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

There is a really good chance I didn't follow the five minute rule. :/

Count it ALL Joy

I struggle with the verse that tells me to "count it all joy." I know what Paul meant. And half the time I get it, but when I am smack dab in the middle of the goo, it's tough to remember his point. Last night I woke up several times with the thought, "God, I don't know what you are doing." Then I would fall back to sleep. This morning, so early in the summer morning, I woke with the same thought. "Lord, I don't know what you are doing." Then, I tried to pray because it's a good idea when you want to understand and hear from God, that you take a second to listen after you pose sentiments like mine.

I have interviewed for a full-time teaching position with several schools in Boise. I feel this school district is not only a great fit for my kids, but my teaching styles and philosophies seem to align perfectly- so much so, the principals laugh a little when I tell them my preferred lesson plan model is a mix between two: Madeline Hunter and SIOP. They say, "that's funny. That's exactly what we use now. The district chose the best of both, and it works great so far." Yah. I think so too. 

But instead of getting hired at the end of each interview, I get a call some time later saying the same exact phrase. "You are such a strong candidate, but..." And they let me down easy. To add to the fun, my teaching job for the school year has ended, and I am bringing in a few hundred a month with Pampered Chef, but not enough to cover the bills. The cherry on top? We just lost a significant paycheck from my husband's severance pay. "Lord, I don't know what you are doing."

But maybe I do. Maybe I know God wants to give me a job close to home, instead of 45 minutes away. Maybe he wants to save me money in car upkeep and gas, and allow me to use that drive time to actually BE with my family. Maybe he has plans to prosper me and not to harm me. Maybe HE knows the plans he has for me. Maybe he knows I am seeking my security on the knowledge of landing a teaching job next year. (insert disappointed in myself face).

"All other ground is sinking sand."

So, today, I am thankful that even though the devil tries to mess with my mind and security, I do not lean on him. I fully lean on Jesus' name.

I am thankful I have someone as capable as God, and that I don't have to believe the devil if I don't want to.

I am thankful that I have an education that will one day land me a rad job.

I am thankful that I have a summer of hanging out with my kids and raising them to be the coolest kids in town.

I am thankful that GOD knows the plans he has for me and I need not fret.

I am thankful that God does not hand out demeaning head pats when I am repeatedly doubtful. Instead he hugs me closer.

What are you thankful for? I am linking up with these girls because they remind me to be thankful.
 

Follow Me Wednesday

So, I am wandering blogs tonight. Just checking out who would like to be friends, and who has good things to share with me. I want to be an athletic supporter, and I would like to be supported. Athletically and otherwise.

I love surfing these blogs, meeting these women, and basically finding out we are all on the same boat- moms trying to make an impact as we attempt to take a pleasure cruise through eel infested waters.

Here are a couple blogs I found today. I hope you enjoy them. I am eager to get back.





 

I'd love it if you went whole hog and followed me as well. I know many of you pride yourselves on being a lurker, but don't you think it's time to commit already? Come'on and share some love! You can follow by email or just click that little blue button over there. See me pointing?

Love/Hate Link Up With NoDots

My friend No..el is a really fantastic blogger. She always has been, but lately she has been sprucing her goose (NOT a euphemism).
Today she is hosting a link up. We get to join her in posting anything or one thing or several things with which we have a love slash hate relationship. Click her beautiful face and pay her a visit to check out the serious circus she has going on over there. See me pointing?

LOVE/HATE

I love my hairs.

Not so much when they touch me and make me feel the strangle.

I love my guitar, Rosalie.

Not so much the ouchies she leaves behind making it obvious that I haven't picked her up enough this week.

I love flops, Old Navy ones to be precise.

Not so much the less than baby soft skin to which they lead.

I love Starbucks.

Not so much the Nampa location, as they insist on putting the mouth hole on the seam. Get it together people. That is SO barista training 101.

I love massages (much like the one I had today)

Not so much when they end. PLEASE DON'T GO MASSAGE LADY! :(

What do you love slash hate right now? Leave me a comment, and tell No..el that I sent you.. Or large Marge. Whatevers

Work it Sister

Week two schedule for getting that booty busted. Get your leg warmers on and get to getting.

 (As is typical, when following a new exercise plan, check with your doctor and know your limits)
A few notes: My running app is excellent, and worth the $2.99 price. Those of you who want to bypass this option, just do a jog/walk alternating session. I like to walk for one minute, run for two until my 30 minutes are up.

**Details on the full body plank can be found here

Monday
Running App- 30 minutes with quick but thorough stretch
5 pushups- girl's, boy's, whatevers- just do 5
10 minute for real stretching (get your bendy on)

Tuesday
Running App- 30 minutes
10 minute stretch
30 second full body plank**

Wednesday
We call this day recovery. Drink your water. Eat your protein. Get a massage. Take a bath. Let your muscles heal.

Thursday
Running App- 30 minutes
Five for Five:
5 pushups
5 squats- watch yourself in the mirror and make sure your weight is in your heels
5 minute yoga stretch-really bendy. This will make all the difference.

Friday
Recovery

Saturday
Running App- 30 minutes
One hour workout video- I choose The Dailey Method, and it's amazing. Trust me. Do you trust me?

Stay strong little roots. You can do this!

Things that make my brow furrow

There isn't coffee in my hands.
I wanna watch hours of Gilmore Girls but can't.
There is a fly buzzing around my head, and he isn't small.
I have my third sinus infection of the year. Ghetto
My desire for donuts right this minute.
There isn't coffee in my hands.
Sam (5) can only communicate with passion aka crazy emotions.
My husband is at work.
I have deadlines looming.
I have so many thins to do, I don't know where to begin.
There isn't coffee in my hands.


Things that make me smile?
I hear my big boy helping his brother AND making me coffee. Well played Elijah. Don't tell anyone, but you are totally my favorite.

Five Minute Friday

Don't fight it. Write for five minutes for this Friday's blog link. No editing. No back tracking. Just write. Topic? Opportunity. Ready. Steady. Go.

First of all, I am going to be typing a whole lots more slowly than usual because I may teype quickly, but there are SO many mistakes. Point proven with how I wrote the word "Type".
Opportunity? Oh we all have so many each day, every second. I know I do. I fail to make the most of most of them. I succeed in over thinking most of the ones I jump after. And if I make it that far in the process, I begin to let horrible seeds of doubt take root. Today, I had the opportunity to spend time with my kids as they got out of school early for their last day of school. I opted not to spend as much time with them because I felt my sinus infection creeping in, and I think he is here to stay. Instead, I took the opportunity to take a nap. It so rarely happens around here, and I have been getting up so butt crack of dawn early this week to get my exercise on, I wasn't going to wait to be told twice before seizing this diem.
I saw a license plate on a car that lived next door to my brother. (At least I think that's where I saw it.) It said something like CRPADIEM. I get it. Now. Carpe Diem. Then I thought it said crap a damn.

Five minutes is up.
I think I should apologize. You have to be careful when you step into this mind. It's a scary place sometimes. I am off to snuggle with my movie and tissues. Until we meet again. Crap a damn!

Ode To The Natalie Rose

There's a girl I know
She carries a glow
every day, about her

It's not just a light
It's honest and bright
every day, about her

The patience it takes
new life, high stakes
every day, about her

A season to wait
Trust in God's fate
every day, about her

In honor of my new friend Natalie Rose, in honor of anyone who has been asked to wait an indefinite amount of time while God works everything out in a way that only he can, I dedicate this poem. But mostly to The Natalie Rose.

Waiting is painful. Sometimes it even transfers over to physical pain. I get tense during the day, and I don't even realize it. Then, I go to lay down at night, and instead of melting into my covers and settling into my pillow, I find I can't release the tension. It hurts. I realize I have been clenching my teeth. I realize I have given myself a headache, dull and ever-lingering in the base o my neck. Then I get super frustrated with myself for being such a doubter through my pain.

I am choosing. I am choosing to focus on my list of everything for which I am grateful. Not grateful because I have accomplished them. Things that are amazing because they are true gifts and blessings to me. Things I couldn't have made or picked for myself or done better.

A husband who loves me most.

Five kids when I thought we would have none at one point.

A house that not only holds up a roof to keep me warm but that is super cute.

Coffee around every corner.

Writing. I am so thankful for writing.

Music. It helps me learn. It mellows me. It wakes me up.

It's Thursday. Be thankful. Make a list of what you are thankful for so the waiting isn't quite so rough.

Accountability Is Not For Suckers

The best part about besties is the accountability. I love love LOVE that when I am going through something, or need some motivation, my besties call on me or text me up to see how it's going. Well, I am looking to all of you to hold me accountable. This place is gonna track my progress (and no doubt some set backs), but I'm agonna run.

There, I said it. I put it out there in the blog world that this girl is gonna run.

I have a neighbor who is in the same boat as me: too many donuts, too little veggies, and families that need. But we have both come to a point where we are believing that God wants us to take care of our bodies. This temple will never shine, but dang it, I am going to spruce it to the best of my abilities. So, we are looking at a race in Boise that is sure to give us a fun goal and fancy environment to run our little booties (soon to be little) off. Baby fat, they time has cometh. We have the app, we have the shoes, and we have the chubby middles that must GO! I don't need a bikini body. I need thighs that are silent instead of chiming in every time I sit down on the couch in a skirt.
For those of you with whom this may strike a similar chord, I invite you to join me. Meet back here regularly for weekly training schedules, tips and to-dos along the way, and a few great recipes to replace those well-out-of-your-calorie-range meals.
Did I lose you at "weekly training schedules"? Do not fret, friend. Here are your baby steps for days 1-3; I KNOW you can do this! So does Rob:

Week one (This schedule will run slightly behind my own):

Weekly Goal

Drink your allotted water for each day

•  Drink half your body weight in ounces (ex. 100 lb person drinks 50 ounces of water each day)

Day 1

Take a 30 minute speed walk; don't be wimpy. Move that hiney.

Measure your target areas and record the results

• bicep
• chest
• middle waist
• low waist (pooch and love handles)
• hips
• thigh

Day 2

Put it in writing

• What do you hope to accomplish? What are your goals? What size do you want to be? Why are you doing this? Think on these questions and more, and write down your findings.

30 minute speed walk

10 minute stretch (whole body, but focus on legs especially)

Day 3

30 minute walk

10 minute stretch

Day 4 OFF

Day 5

One hour Dailey Method (or other high intensity workout)

Day 1 of Running App (two miles at a jog/walk combo)

Begin taking vitamin D daily

Day 6 OFF

Well played. This schedule began on Tuesday for me because of our weekend out of town. This gave me Friday and Sunday as my days off. Tweak this to meet your schedule best. Happy following! I would love to hear from any of you about what you are doing to be healthy these days.

Reminisce

Sometimes looking at our past is important. Sometimes it is just out right hilarious. This is the latter. Reminisce with me, won't you? The following story is not a test or piece of fiction. The following story is #111 why we should have our own show. 

as promised, the grocery store

::flasback segment::
Layla Grace-6 monthish
Eli-18months-ish
Isabelle-4 ish
me-the day I turned gray
It's a day like any other. We have errands to run. One including the grocery store. We stroll into Albertson's. Oh so unsuspecting. I have Eli and Layla squeeezed into the front seat normally meant for one. They are rigged, two legs in one hole and a baby blanket wedged to one side. Isabelle is walking. I have my calculator, my list, and we are all set with goodies from the cold drink aisle. I do the usual patrolling. "don't take that off the shelf." "don't lick the cart." stuff like that.

About an hour or more into it we are in the home stretch with only about three aisles to go. I am at the butcher counter getting steaks for dinner. Ah the good wife. ::pat pat pat:: then suddenly out of my apron wearing day dream I notice a cold something or other ::drip drip drop::

what is that?
 :drip: I bend to see milk splattering under my cart.
:drop: quite a bit of it.
"What? How did that happen?" ::drip drop::
"Elijah, what did you do?" and this is where, if he could speak, he would tell me he ate through the carton- right through the plastic.
Good grief. What a mess.
I wiggle closer to the lobster tank where they provide you with free paper towels... for the dive I suppose. As it turns out they are equally handy for almost-two-year-olds.

So I get my steaks and turn around just in time to notice Layla Grace has gnawed herself a little snack. This one is made of a different variety. Same animal- this time it is raw hamburger.
(Yep, you heard me)
Through my disgust and her tears, I manage to dig as much as possible out of her mouth, left wondering how much she actually ate. ew.
I notice a convenient trash can next to me and deposit the remnants of her snack into the can, and just as I do, my hand gets snagged on the lid. It is one of those big metal cans with the teeter tottery lids.

Life is now in slow motion. teeter, totter, teeeeetter, toooooottterrr.
The kids are crying, the butcher woman is agasp, chest heaving, and my eyes are wide as the trash can lid flies up up up into the air.

I am spider man as i look around me, taking it all in.
And then, the display catches my eye. I hadn't noticed you before. I make a mental registry of everything as it all comes crashing to the ground.

No. not paper towels, that would be easy. I see can openers, corkscrews, wire baskets, salt and pepper shakers, thermometers, anything metal a grocery store would carry. Yes, it is all on this very special metal itself, display. It too is on the floor.
You know what always amazes me? How everything gets so quiet when a terribly loud noise happens.)
Isabelle is the first to speak...and I quote "NO WAY THAT JUST HAPPENED!"
I am still too shocked to say anything. Still silence.

The butcher lady comes close and says, "Just go, honey. I will take care of everything."
So I unloaded my children, and we left the grocery store.

And in my best Alex Trebek voice:
"Why don't the Brewer kids go to the grocery store?"

So, if you know of a guy who is looking to take a chance on a new reality TV show families every where will love, send him our way. This is a fairly typical afternoon of nonsense around here.

Snarky Ain't All It's Cracked Up to Be

This is our squirrel. Well, that isn't her actual name, but it has been her label since our older daughter used her lisp to call this little one a crazy girl. It came out more like, "Crazy Squirrel." She was only a year old then. She is seven and still Squirrel.
This face is commonly found on her face. It means many things, and my husband can regularly be found trying to decipher it through loving conversation only a Daddy can deliver. He has grotesque patience. He could out meditate Ghandi. I mean it. Don't even bother with a staring contest.
I do not recollect what these two were talking about when I took this picture (it's easy to get distracted when I see my husband being delicious and a dad- I am human). Squirrel's face could mean any of the following depending on the day:

• This place is a tomb and I want to go to the nut shop where it's fun, or
• This guy has been disciplining me for three minutes too long, and I stopped listening six minutes ago, or
• I will not be appreciated until I am dead; you people don't deserve me, or
• Leaning against this counter isn't hard; I do it all the time, see?

When she was a smirk older than one, she could make you feel inferior. It's not a learned behavior, and I can't quite decide if this could somehow be considered her ministry or just rude.She could make Tony Robbins feel insecure. She is still honing her sarcasm, but the fact that she spent five minutes trying to convince her older siblings that the Indian man at the airport was my father (we are Lebanese), tells me she has real untapped potential. I DO know that I love being this girl's mamma.

Mug Swap

Sometimes you find people randomly in your life, so you KNOW God wanted you to know them. I have recently made a friend on Instagram. I love that app. I love watching my New Zealand friend's pregnant belly grow. I love seeing what my Florida chef friend made for breakfast because it's not eggs with her, it's artwork. I love that I get to share pictures of my kids with my dad even though he is techno-slow. But today I mostly love that my new friend Rachel and I met because God wanted me to know people out there get me.
Since moving here, I have had my doubts that I will ever have a friend. I have an unbelievable group of girls Here, Here, and Here, plus some other girls who don't keep or update their blogs. WHA!? I know. Maybe I don't totally get them. HA.
So, in honor of awesome bloggers, of women, of meeting new friends across the country only to find you look similar, act similar, and make mock of others similarly, I am participating in the Mug Swap. Bonn Bonn is hosting a coffee mug swap that will connect you with a possible kindred spirit- aka someone else who would wound others for coffee if it came down to it. Come on! Take a chance and click

Coffee Is My Manna

OK, so I know that coffee isn't really what sustains me. But, I will tell you what- I SURE LOVE IT.

I understand Lorelai's outstretched arms. That face in return is because Luke (or whoever I am speaking to at the moment) knows I am downplaying how much coffee I have consumed. I use every ounce of will power to stop at one cup of coffee. And, because my will power ounces equal around 6, I usually have my second cup on the way to work. This morning, for instance, I was served one cup in bed, and I followed it up with two more cups at IHOP. I was so tempted to go for cup number four, but I didn't ask for decaf, and I was concerned my heart or my kidneys or my bladder would explode.

Do not worry; I am alright- organs in tact.

This sums up my feelings nicely. My Mother's Day was excellently full of laying in the grass, gardening, breakfast out, coffee in bed, and some of the BEST homemade presents a mamma could ask for. But what I really want about now is a steamy, snuggly cuppa Joe.

Dear Clutter, Get Out

I don't know where it comes from, clutter. My counters are a jungle of papers and hair bands and dishes and other tom foolery. I had a day off because my boy has a cough due to cold. I did a little research and found this lady and her list of how to have a more organized home in four weeks. Yes please. That's an excellent way to kick off the summer if you ask me.

I tackled an entire week of her list in one day. I realize she is going for routine, but since I still have a week of work days left, I figure I should give our house a boost and work on routine later. This counter just looked so pretty I had to photograph her.

Then I scrolled down and realized one of my first chores was to clean out my fridge. SHEESH! I knew this was going to be an event. I do not at all understand what is happening in my refrigerator. Chaos.

I grabbed my baking soda and my old Pampered Chef quick stir pitcher. This pitcher is perfect for cleaning because I can throw in my gallon of water and my 1/4 cup of baking soda and mix it all easily without dirtying up a spoon. I emptied, I scrubbed, I soaked my shelves in the bathtub.

I even grabbed my Pampered Chef stoneware scraper to handle that beastly stuck on foods. Brilliant inventions. I use them to scrape my counters, fold papers properly, and get in the seams of hard to clean areas. I was rewarded with this beauty.

Furthermore, I threw down a challenge to myself to find 50 items to get rid of. Money Saving Mom says seven a day. FlyLady says 27 every week. I went crazy and said 50. I ended up chucking or donating 120 items.
Dear Clutter, Get Out

Pardon Our Dust

I am rearranging, but now I have to go to a meeting. I girl's gotta make some money. Be back soon.

A Chicken Decision

Sometimes My Husband gets an idea in his head to build a little box for a chicken or two.

Then instead he builds a chicken palace big enough for the Capulets and the Montagues and all their servants and all their servants' chickens.

This is one of those times. And, do you know what I have to say about that? SHE'S A BEAUT CLARK!! I love it. Seriously, I want to get my pillow and my blanket and snuggle up in that there castle before the real characters arrive: Stella, Stanley, and Fredword. Hopefully you will see these guys soon. We opted to wait until we return from our graduation trip before we bring those new babies home.

Prayers for Persevering

Persevering. It's almost an offensive word for people who are stuck in the middle of it. This is an excerpt of my prayer journal recently. I was feeling frustrated that we haven't adopted some babes. I really want to adopt some babes. I really think God wants us to adopt some babes. My children are completely offended that we haven't adopted some babes. My husband thinks we already have a lot of children. :/ God's witty comebacks are in parenthesis:
Lord, diligence and I do not move in similar circles, but I know you can change this. (You are practicing diligence).
Thank you, I get caught up. I feel like this adoption road has no end. (I see it.)
Is it good? The road, I mean. Is it happy at the end? (Of course it is. I made it).
Thank you. (Welcome. I love you.)
I love you more (Not possible).
Yeah, you always win at that one. amen

Saddest Rodeo Cowboy in the Circuit

Melancholy Cowboy

That Sam I Am. That Sam I Am. Who doesn't like green eggs and ham? Only people who are too nervous to try it. I do not know what it is about this little boy of mine, but he sure gets the melancholy mumps on a regular basis. He is sad in this picture because I won't let him carry a woman's purse. Poor kid. He doesn't know all I do for his own good. To his future wife- you're welcome.