Archive | December, 2013

I’m tired. Tired, and thankful.

13 Dec

Last night, my children, again, teamed up against Mr. and myself. So please excuse any and all errors in this post.

This is how my night went last night:

8:00PM- Bedtime.

8:02PM- Little Miss has to go potty.

8:08PM-Middle Little needs a drink.

8:09PM-Little Miss also needs a drink.

There were a few more things, but you get the idea.

Fast forward to midnight.

We decide its bedtime for us, resolving to do a few things that need done in the morning, instead of before bed.

We crawl  fall into bed.

Exhausted.

1:00AM- Middle Little needs another drink.

1:15AM- Middle Little is still awake.

1:45AM- Middle Little goes back to bed.

2:30AM- Buddy Boy wakes up.

2:45AM-Buddy Boy is back to sleep.

4:00AM- Middle Little needs yet another drink. And a new diaper, since he has had about a million drinks since he went to bed.

4:15AM- Middle Little is back in bed.

5:03AM- Little Miss is wide awake.

She makes a lot of noise when she wakes up. Volume control is beyond her. Oy.

5:08AM- Middle Little is also awake.

5:09AM- 2 kids and 2 adults are crammed into our queen size bed. Kids are talking, and tickling, and giggling. Parents are shushing, and glaring, and shushing, and shushing.

5:15AM- Everyone is settled and resting nicely.

5:17AM- Middle Little announces, “I need to cuddle with Mommy!!”

Everyone rearranges.

5:25AM- Everyone is settled and resting nicely.

5:32AM- Little Miss whines (loudly, remember the volume control issues?) that now its her turn to cuddle with Mommy.

Everyone rearranges. Again.

5:40AM- Everyone is settled and resting nicely. Again.

5:48AM- Someone made some sort of noise  and Mommy killed everyone and Mommy decides to offer a movie in hopes of a little more rest.

5:50AM- Everyone except Mr. scrambles (loudly) to the living room. I promise them TinkerBell and $100 for anyone who lays nicely on a couch. They both lay down, waiting patiently for the cute little fairy to appear.

6:00AM- Netflix isn’t working and we all died.

6:02AM- I pray to the good Lord above, and promise anything and everything I can think of if He could just please make there be something good on Disney.

6:03AM- I turn to channel 34 (Disney). Mickey’s Twice Upon A Christmas is on. 

*Whew*

Now, here I sit, sipping my coffee, watching the faces of my two littles as they watch a chaotic tale of Mickey Mouse and his friends.

Am I happy that I am exhausted? No. Am I so very blessed beyond measure that my kids even woke up today? Yes.

There is so much wrong in the world today. So much hate, so much pain.

I can’t fix it.

But, I can enjoy the snuggles of a now sleepy 2 and 3 year old, as they sit on my lap, and thank God for blessing me with these little people.

Out of all the people in the entire world, God chose me to be in charge of these babies.

He sure must love me a lot.

 

Hug your kids. Count your blessings. Be thankful for what you have, and make sure you thank the One who gave it all to you.

 

Advertisements

You Are More Beautiful Than You Think

5 Dec

What defines beauty?

Who defines beauty?

Well, if you are Webster, you define beauty as, ” the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit”.

Gives pleasure to the senses. Hmmmm… Mr. Webster wasn’t very specific as to whose senses. What if it gives pleasure to your senses, but not mine? Is it no longer beautiful? I believe the person who sees the beauty is the one who defines what is beautiful.

As a (shorter than average, overweight, less than striking) woman, I have spent many hours of my life defining what isn’t beautiful about myself.

And all the women said, “amen”.

But why?

Let’s switch gears for a second.

When I walk outside, I am drawn to beauty.

I walk out and see the pretty flowers in the spring, the perfect, white snow in the winter, the birds flying in the summer, and the crispy, crunchy leaves in the fall.

I don’t walk out the door and start pointing out flaws in nature.

“Ew. That flower should have been pink, not blue.”  or “That bird’s wings seem disproportionate to his body.”

So, what is the relevance of the two scenarios?

God.

He made both the flowers, and me. He made the birds, and me.

I believe that all of His creations in “nature” are beautiful. Even the worms. I am in awe of them. And, despite the fact that I don’t find them to be gorgeous, the chubby little hands of my kids can’t stay away from them.

So, if I believe that about the flowers, the birds, and even the worms, why can’t I believe that about me?

Why do I doubt that God actually chose this height for me? Why do I doubt that God chose these lips for me? Why do I doubt that God chose me for me? Why do I doubt that God made me beautiful or pretty or attractive or even “good enough”, let alone perfect… whoa. Did I say that out loud? Am I beautiful? If so, to whom? Certainly not myself.

But, I know someone who sees me as beautiful. Mr.

He is always telling me how pretty I am, or how attracted to me he is.

I always think he is lying.

God chose Mr. for me. He chose someone that he knew would build me up in my insecurities. He chose someone who saw me as beautiful, even when I hadn’t.

But why don’t I think I am pretty?

I think the flowers are pretty, but a colorblind dog walks by and pees on that same flower.

I think the same is true with people.

Growing up, people made fun of me. For anything they could think of, really. That’s how Middle School goes, you know. There are 5 “pretty ones”, and everyone else gets made fun of.

The problem is, as time went on, I allowed myself to believe the “dogs”, and I started telling myself they were right.

But they weren’t. They were wrong. Not because I think that I am beautiful, but because God knows I am beautiful. And, He made everything, so He is right. Also, because He is God, so that also makes Him right. Also, if George Clooney told me I was beautiful…. I digress.

The point is, beauty isn’t “defined”, it is seen. When you choose to see the beauty, it is beautiful. Whether it be people, nature, food, or a pile of laundry. Laundry might be pushing it, but you get the idea.

You have to see the beauty in yourself before you can ever be truly beautiful.

Don’t believe me? Watch this.

Do you think you are beautiful?

This is a very important question to ask yourself. Not because I want you see yourself as beautiful, but because your children and those you influence (youth group, students in class, friends) will take their cues from you.

Don’t teach your kids that beauty is defined. Teach them to see their beauty. And to see the beauty in others. And teach them to tell others that they are beautiful.

Stop seeing the human defined “less than perfect” and start seeing your beauty. Because, my friend, you are beautiful. Believe it.

You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you. ~Song of Songs 4:7

“What’s that?”: A story of the birds and the bees

3 Dec

Yesterday, the dreadful day came. The one I have been {successfully} avoiding for over 3 years. The day in which my daughter was no longer satisfied with calling everything in the underwear zone, “butt”. Good news, though: I survived. Barely.

Mr. and I have said from the beginning that we would handle questions regarding private parts and other such things one way, and one way only. Truthfully. And {hopefully} with a straight face.

I mean, come on… they are funny words, meanings aside, they words still sound silly. Also, vestibule. That word gets me giggling every time. Vestibule. Ha. Haha. AHhahahahaha. *sigh* I’m done now. Wait…. hahahaha. Ok. Now I am done. Seriously, though, “vestibule” doesn’t make you chuckle even a little? Teeheehee. There I go again. I’ve got to stop.

Now, where was I? Oh, right. Private parts.

Yesterday, this little scenario played out:

I begin changing Buddy Boy’s diaper.

Little Miss: What’s that?

Me: What’s what?

Little Miss (pointing): That. On his butt.

Me: Ummm… poop? (I really did think she was asking about the poop, at this point).

Little Miss (pointing a little more emphatically): No, Mom. That

Me (still thinking she is talking about poop): Poop. That right there (point to glob of poo), is poop.

Little Miss (now pointing so close there is no denying it): MOM! What. Is. Thaaat? 

Me: Oh. (Maintain straight face. Think of discontinuation of coffee… maintain straight face.) That? (Point to part). 

Little Miss: Yes. That’s what I said. (Points again.) What is that?

Me: That is called a “penis”. 

Little Miss: Peanuts?

Me: No, not peanuts. Penis.

Little Miss: Oh. Well, I don’t have one of those on my butt.

Me: Nope. You don’t.

Little Miss: But, [Middle Little] does. 

Me: Yes, he does.

Little Miss: Why?

Me: Because boys have penises, and girls don’t.

Little Miss: Oh. 

Whew. Glad that is over.

Little Miss: What do I have on my butt?

Dang. So close.

Me: You have a vagina.

Little Miss: A wuh-China?

Me: Yes, a va-gi-na.

Little Miss: Boys have penis. Girls have wuh-China’s. Right, Mom?

Me: Yep. That’s right.

Little Miss: Ok. Thanks.

Well, that went well. I think. I hope. Good Lord, I am just glad it’s over. Good, bad or ugly – It’s over!

About ten minutes later, Mr. calls.

Me: You will never guess what your daughter just asked about….

Hearing my conversation with Mr., Little Miss asks to talk to Daddy.

I hand the phone over.

Little Miss: Hi, Dad.

Mr.: Hi. How are you?

Little Miss: Good. Ummm…. Mommy told me something.

Mr.: Oh? What did she tell you?

Little Miss: [Buddy Boy] and [Middle Little] have penis and I have a CHINA!

Silence.

Faint chuckling.

Mr.: That’s right. Mommy is right. Are you having a good day?

While I joke about this being awkward and awful, I really think I handled it well.

Have you had to have the parts talk with your kids? How did it come up? What did you tell them? Do your kids have penises and vagina’s too, or did your kids come with pee-pees and hoo-hoos? Let me know in the comments!!