Mornings Good and Good Mornings

I rolled over and pulled the phone out from under my pillow when I heard loud footsteps on the stairs. It was 5:57am. I started to count, and at nine, he busted through the door whispering my name. He had something important to say (don't all 4-year-olds?). I convinced him to get in my bed and I played dead for almost 15 minutes by only giving a "uh-huh" or "uh-uh" when necessary. He let me get away with it.

At 6:17 I heard my baby cry, and I stumbled out of bed with Blaine at my heels. When I walked through the door he stopped crying and smiled, and yelled a delighted "JOO-WEE!" (his version of my name). It made my heart smile. I picked him up out of the crib, and he wrapped his arms around my neck and laid his head on my shoulder. I breathed the sweet baby smell in his shoulder, and he stuck his chubby little hands into my hair. I will never get tired of the feeling of his hands in my hair when he lays on my shoulder. I hope if I have children that they do that, too.

I took them to the nearest tv, and then decided to enjoy my last hour before work with them both on top of me. I forgot how sweet they are first thing in the morning. I forgot how much I missed them. I forget how protective I am of my babies, and I forgot how much I am loved by two very innocent hearts.

It did my heart good. It was what made my mornings good. It gave me the hope and the beauty to KNOW. To know that I mattered to someone. To two someones. To know that all I had to do to get an "I love you" was wake up in the morning. To know that hugs and kisses live right down the street. To know, without a doubt, that I was loved. Even if it was only by someone so little. I was loved, for doing nothing at all but loving back.

And that. Felt. Wonderful.

Sometimes...

Sometimes life can get a little overwhelming.
Sometimes I don't know which way to go.
Sometimes I just want to sit and cry,
And sometimes I don't know how to say no.

Sometimes it's all too much.
Sometimes it's never enough.
Sometimes I really need a damn nap,
Because sometimes life is just tough.


(postscript: I am not a poet. But this picture made me laugh, and it needed something stupid to go with it. I cracked myself up, and that's all that really matters.)

It Rains, Not All the Time

This weekend I have the privilege (which, sometimes is more of a daunting task) of spending the weekend in Seattle with my boss and the boys. When I found out that my boss's brother was getting married here this weekend, I begged to come. It's a good thing, because she would not have survived this trip without me. I do not hesitate to be bold enough to say that, because it's true. At this point I am very tired, grumpy, and bitter, but I would like to share some highlights of my trip thus far.

Seattle is beautiful. Yes, it has rained lots, but not all the time. It comes and goes. The mountains are a backdrop in one direction, and driving downtown tonight was so hilly that it resembled those rice-a-roni commercials in San Francisco. A little scary, really. The church where the wedding will be is across the lake from downtown, and the nighttime skyline is breathtaking. Quite Manhattan-like actually. I wish I could have taken pictures (but I was driving).

Flying to Seattle, however, is not quite as lovely. Maybe because I sat between a screaming 18-month-old and a very loud three-year-old. It was not a pleasant experience. A very long flight and a severe case of jet-lag for all four of us. I do not particularly want to do it again on Sunday. Too bad.

I have a very neat friend in Seattle. I do not hesitate to call him my friend, though I have only ever had three conversations with him. I had coffee with him this morning. It was a memorable experience. He's neat. You should have coffee with him, too.

I am staying at an incredibly exquisite bed and breakfast, at which I have my own floor in the separate guest house. I'm spoiled. They serve your coffee to you twice daily, and they make your bed and leave little mints on it. I might move in. The two male innkeepers are interesting characters. They're married. They have no sense of humor. That's difficult.

Well, I believe that sums up my current opinions of my trip (minus my screaming children at the rehearsal. We won't go there). I really like this city, and wish I had time without children to look around a little more. I guess I'll just have to come back. Some of you should be expecting a postcard. Postcards are fun. I send them.

Goodnight all.

*photo by jacobC

Home.

Oh, I'm home. I'm so glad. I walked in the door and was immediately hugged by my roommate. It feels good to be missed :) Sometimes I'm not sure anyone ever misses me. Now I know. And I am grateful.

As soon as I recover from a very long trip and a very busy weekend ahead, I promise I will post all that has gone on. I don't have to go back to work until the 26th. Woo Hoo!!!

Be ready for funny stories and funny pictures and videos. A week with kids produces much of that. And I'm pretty sure my boss is now one of my best friends. 20 hours in the car and a week in her parents house made that happen :) Again, I am grateful.

But most of all, I am grateful to be HOME. This is home. And I am grateful.

A Case of Cabin Fever

I have been restless lately. The kind of restless where I have a hard time going to bed because I feel like I have better things to do, and I have a hard time going to work because I feel like my days have more purpose than what I am currently using them for. It could be the change in the weather, because cold weather makes me feel cooped up, especially when it's dark by 5pm. Or, it could be the fact that a week and a half ago the unmistakable voice of God told me that He was about to ask me to totally quit my job. Possibly without a reason why. Yeah, that's probably it.

I've never been much of a jumper. I'm more of the baby steps type. Probably because I have everlasting trust issues. Why in the world would I just obey and quit my job without a plan? Why should I think that God might have something big planned that He couldn't just show me BEFORE I quit? Yeah, I don't know. I have no idea what God has in store for me. I just know that I'm praying hard that I hear Him when He tells me what to do. I'm ready to go. I'm ready for something different. I'm bored and restless. I know God's got something important for me, I just pray that I can obey, even regardless of what everyone else would have to say. He is all I need. He has become enough for me.

On a lighter note, I had a major mom moment today. In the chaos of putting the baby in the car and finding the keys and all that jazz this afternoon to go get Ashton from school, I some how forgot to put shoes on. So I, being the Tennessee born-and-bred girl that I am, went into kindergarten to get Ashton with my slippers on. At least he's still too young to be embarrassed by me.

Yeah, I'm ready for a career change. I'm praying. I'm seeking. Feel free to join in.

A Little Laugh...

I have chased so many deep thoughts today, and had so many serious issues to deal with, that I don't think I can pick just one to write about. So instead, I'd like to share my funniest moment of the day.

I picked up my newest kids, Sydney (6) and Carson (2), this afternoon and took them home. Usually when we get there, there is a key under the front door mat to open the door with. Today, Deana forgot to leave the key. Minor problem. I looked at the kids and told them that there was no key, and I was going to go call their mom and ask her what she wanted me to do. Before I had the phone open, Sydney looked at me and without missing a beat said, "Why don't you just use a credit card?". I looked at her like she had two heads, and then pondered the thought. "Well, it isn't dead bolted, so maybe it would work." I went to the car, got a credit card, and proceeded to break into the house, on the advice of a six-year-old. Fabulous.

Later, when I told Deana about it, I couldn't help but laugh about the fact that this child, at the age of six, has already perfected her breaking and entering skills. Which, I guess, isn't really a bad skill to have. :)

Noticed

This is my friend Drake. He's fifteen months old, and probably one of cutest toddlers you've ever seen, right? Maybe I'm partial, but even if I wasn't I would still think he's cute. The problem with precious baby Drake, though, is that he KNOWS he's cute. And that makes it very hard to take him in public. Wherever we are, if we walk past anyone that doesn't acknowledge his presence, he will make noises at them until they tell him how cute he is (or until we walk away). He knows he's cute, and he wants to make sure everyone else agrees. Everyone. Now we all know that not everyone in the world (especially everyone in the public library) thinks that little kids are adorable. But poor baby Drake just wants to be affirmed. He wants to feel loved. He wants to be noticed. And oh, how much I learn about myself from this precious little boy and his seemingly pointless antics. For if the truth be told, I am exactly like Drake in this. I always have been. But I hope that I won't always be.

I have never exactly been the strong, silent type, though it may appear to be so sometimes. Silence is something that is rare for me, even when I'm sleeping. I'm just loud by nature. I'm pretty sure even my thoughts are often loud, judging by the noise in my head that I can't seem to control. On the rare occasions that I am more quiet than usual, for example when I am in big group settings, my facial expressions and body language usually still speak loudly, especially to the people that know me well. And as for the strong part, well, we'll just say that is also lacking. I'm weak and needy, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. We'll just leave it at that.

The bad part about my weak and noisy status is that it causes my happiness to depend mostly on the behavior of other people. I'm addicted to approval and affirmation (in both positive and negative forms), and I'll do whatever it takes to get them. That includes letting people use and abuse me, willingly discounting my own feelings, and worst of all, trying to manipulate the people I love into loving me the way I want them to. Let me be the first to tell you, that never works. It only causes me more frustration, and causes the people I care about to stop caring.

Yes, I want to be noticed. I'll admit to that one, too. Maybe no one paid enough attention to me when I little, or maybe negative attention has always been easier to obtain for me, so I play my strengths. Either way, the point is that the people who are supposed to notice me, the people who are supposed to pay attention to me and care about me, well, they just WILL. I don't have to make them. I don't have to obsess about what they think or what I did or didn't do. I'm tired of my demeanor, my mood, and my general contentment being found in other people. That's not how it is supposed to be. I'm selling myself short. Jesus loves me, this I know, and I want that alone to be where I rest. I want to care only about pleasing HIM and gaining HIS approval for all that I am and all that I do. I want to be able to say who cares if someone else doesn't appreciate me. He does. That's all that's really going to matter in the end anyways.

I hope that I can learn to become the strong, silent type. To me, it's those people who are a picture of security. A picture of rest. While I know that in some areas I will always remain weak, I pray that I can learn to be quiet more often. Just because I'm making noise (good or bad) doesn't mean I will turn a head or get a comment. I want to be loved for who I am, and I want to be appreciated only out of that kind of love. And as for baby Drake, well, he'll figure it out. Not everyone cares how cute he is. But the good news is, the people that really count tell him so every single day. May that be enough for him, and may it also become enough for me.


(sidenote: thank you, elizabeth (and/or ellie), for the advice about being noticed. it's truth. this is where it let me.)