Don’t know much…but I know I love you

There comes a time in your faith walk where you have to face the truth.  Last night was one of those moments for me.

I was asked by a friend’s daughter to be her confirmation mentor.  Sure!  I can do that.  No problem.  To help a child become a member of the church and to explore and strengthen her relationship with Christ…I was honored. 

I am a believer in Christ.  I accepted Jesus into my heart a long time ago.  I was 13 at the time and I loved Jesus with all of my heart.  I loved and believed because I loved and believed.  It was the love of a child and I don’t think I’ve ever gotten past that.  It was a moment I won’t ever forget.  And it has been a journey ever since.  I have faith and I believe.  I love God and that has always been enough.

Last night at the confirmation meeting, PR asked the question, what does faith or belief mean to you?

Well…hmmmm.

I pictured myself as a contestant in a pageant.  I’ve always wanted to be in a beauty pageant and it just never worked out.   My question was…why do you love God?

“Well” (insert big, cheesy smile here), “I love God because I have faith and I believe.  And I just love him.” (Continuing to smile a big, cheesy smile)

(Announcer voice) And what does faith and belief mean to you?

(Insert silence and big, cheesy smile HERE)

I’m not sure how to answer the question.  I do however know for a fact that I would dazzle the judges with my Zumba moves in talent and my skirted tankini in the bathing suit competition.  So I’m not sure the answer even matters as long as I remember to take my glasses off before I start the Zumba portion of my talent. 

My point to this is that I am not sure I know why I have faith or why I believe.  I feel like I have been just getting by in my faith walk and perhaps I need to dig a little deeper to find out why I love God so much.  I know in my heart I am full of peace because of the spirit.  I know that in good times and in bad…I am never alone.  I know that I love God and that His love for me helps me to love and forgive others.  But the bible…and scripture…and our history?  I don’t really know where I stand and what I believe. 

To have childlike faith is a blessing.  But as an adult trying to influence others and show his love…I feel like it might be time to know more.  Hang on…it could be an adventurous few weeks. 

Have a blessed day!

Referee of 3

The truf

Be a truf teller.  Always tell the truf. 

When one of the boys was younger, they would get their th sound mixed up with the f.  (I can't remember which one...I guess I should have written that down in a baby book somewhere...)

I thought it was so adorable.  (I guess that is a Mom thing)

Anyhoo...I came across this article via a good friend of mine and I was shocked by the response it stirred up.  The article has been posted and re posted to facebook many times.  I will add the link to the end of this post. 

Here is the secret ingredient to my writing and maybe this author's as well. 

TRUF.  (That and humor)

Otherwise known as the truth.

People like to read the truth.  Especially when they are in the thick of what we call reality.  I enjoy knowing others forget things.  I love the fact that there are other people out there with little will power and a lot of stress.  Not because I wish those things on other people...but because sometimes, life just gets that way and it helps to know you aren't the only crazy in the room.

I love to read blogs of other people.  LOVE THEM.  But the perfect people blogs...I just pretend they aren't really human.  The crafty ones...the super cute Mom blogs...the cooking blogs...the completely in touch with their spirituality blogs...they are all so nice to read.  But they can't be real...can they?

I mean does anyone really have a clean house all of the time?
Do children really smile for their pictures?
Do people really look that good in all of their everyday pictures?
Does food really look like that on a plate?
Do closets and laundry rooms really stay clean and organized?
Do walls really get painted like that?


I suppose in some extraordinary lives...it all happens.

But what happens in this house (and in this blog) is the truth.  The mess...the disorganization...the anger and frustration...the good times...the bad times...the short of money times...the full of joy times...they all REALLY happen. 

Of course I long to be extraordinary.  I want to be organized and a really, really good cook.  I long to have will power and to not be tired at the end of the day.  I long to have a clean car and an actual schedule when it comes to laundry. (Not "do it when someone needs something" laundry) 

And I'll keep working toward those things daily...(maybe). 

But life is what it is.  As we go about our daily lives, we shouldn't be pressured to be perfect.  We just need to be.  Be happy.  Be content.  Be full.  Be true.

I have God...my family...a dachshund that I am not sure I even like...a semi hoarder type kitchen...a hall full of laundry...and a minivan full of stuff. 

But my cup runneth over...and that is the truf.

Always be true to who you are.
Referee of 3
Carpe Diem (The article I was referring to)

Mom Lesson

There comes a time in every Mother's life where they realize...life is moving fast.

Life is moving very fast.

Let me back up.  In my post the other day in regards to my eye rolling pre-teen, I left out a few key details.  I did that because I hadn't realized them yet.  As those realizations fell like a thud on my heart...I decided to share them with you.

In my mind, this is my Big.  I love this picture because I can remember taking it and thinking...wow, he looks so big with his hat on backwards!  He was almost one and I loved him so very much.  I cherished every moment with him.  The ones when he was screaming at me for no reason were hard to cherish...but as a new Mom...I just did.

The eye rolling preteen has taken my by surprise.  I was caught off guard the other day at the barber shop.  This is where it began.  Big and Middle had just gotten hair cuts and Big came over with hair on his face.  As any Mother would do...I reached up and wiped it off.  He jerked away and glared at me with a look I hadn't seen very often.  He wanted me NOT to touch him...and he meant it. 

This broke my heart.  When did he decided he no longer needed me?  Creep.  That was it.  If he was going to take that attitude on with me (and grow up without my permission) I was going to ground him from everything.  Who does he think he is getting that tone with me (and growing up without my permission)?  I mean seriously?  Since when does a 12 year old not need their Mother to wipe stray hairs off their face?  And since when does a 12 year old not need their Mom to help them zip up their coat and make sure they have their gloves?  And since when does a 12 year old not need their Mom to hug them nighty night? 

Oh dear...I just heard myself.

I am no longer 12, but I remember being 12.  Wanting to grow up and be treated like an adult.  DANG IT.  I don't want this realization.  I am right and I KNOW I am right.

Right?

Wrong. 

I am a Mom.  And every single one of you reading this will understand.  I had this chat with Big last night and it took every ounce of me not to cry.  (until I left the room of course)  I have spent 12 years taking care of you.  I love you.  I feed you (sometimes burnt food, but I feed you).  I make sure you are warm.  I make sure you have all that you need.  And no one loves you like I do.  NO ONE.  (except for your Dad...and God...and your Mimi and your Nana...and your Aunt Chele)  I am your Mom and all I want is to make sure you have the best that you can.  I want you to be warm and fed.  I want you to feel loved always...and to be happy.  And to be little.  Is that so much for me to ask?  I need you to need me...okay?

Stupid tears.

Honestly...being a Mom is so very hard.  And...in my defense...I still have a Little!  Middle is my sweetie and I am quite certain he'll always let me wipe his face for fear he'll hurt my feelings otherwise.  He is very much my child.  And Little...if I don't wipe his face, no one will.  He is five...and he needs me.  Oh I love how he needs me. 

My point to this...is that half of my anger toward my eye rolling preteen is justified.  TOTALLY.  The other half is my unwillingness to realize that my Big is not little anymore.  I explained to him that I am a woman.  That I am an unstable, emotional basket case.  That I need to be needed.  That I'll stop wiping his face and calling him Bubba in public.  But that I'll never stop trying to take care of him.  I'll say things like..."wear your coat" under my breath.  And I'll allow him to wipe his own face, if he still hugs me at bedtime.  His smile melts my heart.  His freckles make me love him more every time I see them.

His eye rolling just ticks me off.

I'll work on finding the right balance.

Someone should have told me this parenting thing was hard.  After the bottles and diapers, I thought I had this thing locked up. 

Not so much...

Have a blessed day!
Referee of 3

In looking at this picture, I now see the difference between Big...and Little.
My heart is full...and my tear ducts are empty.
This picture says so much about them...if you only knew. 

Just so you know :)

This morning, I was going through some old emails and came across a couple of sweet messages regarding this blog.  So many times I sit down to write something and it just comes.  I can sit and tell a story like no one's business.  And then there are those days when I am stumped.  I know what I want to say, but can't think of a good way to say it. 

After reading these messages, it is clear to me that sometimes people just need to hear what you have to say.  I am a person that gives a lot of thought to what I say before I say it...as I say it...and after I say it.  I am not usually one that worries, but when it comes to the feelings of others, I worry a lot.  I don't like confrontation and I never want to offend. 

The truth of the matter is that if we do and say things with a Godly heart...it will come out as it should.  Because in that moment, they aren't really our words at all.  And in the great words of Dr. Seuss...

"Say what you mean and act how you feel,
because those that mind don't matter and those that matter don't mind."

Right?

As I read those emails, it occurred to me that what I wrote wasn't the magic that gave someone peace.  It was the timing of His words as they made an impact on someone else that made a difference.  All the times I run across a devotional that makes a difference in my life...it isn't the author that makes that difference, it is God in their heart and mine that puts it all into place.

So to those who follow this blog, thank you.  I love that people read about my quirky life.  I love that people are on this journey with me.  Thank you for opening your hearts to the Lord and for laughing with me along the way. 

It isn't about me at all.  And forgive me if it seems as if I have ever made it that way.  I am blessed to be able to write what is on my heart (or about the craziness that happens in my every day life) and have people care enough to laugh and cry with me.  I realize not everyone is as open with their lives, their habits (good and bad) and their obsessions (cookie dough and the Pioneer Woman!) 

Anyway, thank you for all the sweet words, laughter and tears.  It is what it is...just so you know.

Have a super fabulous blessed day!
Referee of 3

Eye rolling pre-teen, chipotle peppers, & a new living room

When I was pregnant with Big, I was at a co-ed softball game watching Coach.  There was this woman there...and I'll never forget what she said.  She had a toddler-ish monster that was throwing an absolute fit.  I was pregnant.  With my first child none the less.  And I just couldn't believe that someone would speak to their child the way that she did. 

Do you know what she called that child?

The Devil. 

I was appalled.  I clutched my larger than usual belly and promised my baby that I would never act like that.  And I swore to myself I'd never let my child act like that toddler monster was acting. 

I wanted to tell her what I thought, but she was dragging her toddler by one arm...no doubt making one arm longer than the other...to her minivan.  (I'd never drive one of those hideous things either)  So, off she went.  And I rubbed my belly in the warm summer air looking perfectly ready to be a Mother. 

(Insert screeching car tire noise here)

I have had it with this child.  I am telling you...the toddler monster part was easy.  This pre-teen, eye rolling business is about to push me over the edge.  I don't know if the devil actually takes over their sweet little bodies or what...but I would like to drive my minivan around to find that woman and tell her how much I truly understand what she meant that day.  I felt this overwhelming feeling the first time my own sweet toddler monster told me he didn't like me and wanted a new Mom.  Well, fine then...you little...DEVIL.  From there it got better.  The toddler years came and went, and I felt like I had the hang of this parenting thing a little more. 

Not...so...much.

The pre-teen eye rolling and hands thrown up in the air go right along with my friend's teenage daughter saying "stupid" in a whisper type voice every time her Mother interferes with her life.  WHO ARE THESE CHILDREN?  We as parents deserve so much better!  We love them, we feed them, we take care of them...and all we are asking them to do is wear a coat when it is cold outside!  Is that so much to ask?  It is a good thing I drug him around by one arm during his toddler monster years.  This has made one arm longer than the other and I have threatened to take that long arm of his and tie it around his neck if the eye rolling continues.  I am a really good parent. 

Oh the joys of motherhood. 

On another note...I have decided I want to be Ree Drummond.  I realize I can't actually be her.  But I think I might love her.  I watched her cooking show on Saturday morning with Middle, and we decided we could cook like her.  So, in an attempt to be more like Ree, I bought chipotle peppers to spice up my pot roast for tomorrow night's dinner.  I'll let you know how it goes.  As I watched her cook, I realized I'll never be her.  I made breakfast this morning and talked to myself like I was on a cooking show.  I am good at the talking part, but totally burnt my eggs.  I'll keep working on this.

Finally...for those who keep track of my furniture moving addiction, I moved my living room again and life seems in balance for the time being.  Little doesn't understand why the TV keeps switching places throughout the room, but he seems to be fine with the arrangement.  Coach just shook his head when he walked in like a defeated man.  I love him.  And I love that he lets me be weird.  And a big thanks to my friend Trista for helping me be weird and loving me for it too. 

This week in Sunday school, we talked about the hurry in life and how to find your joy.  I have a lot I want to write on these so I'll save them for later this week.  I found my joy in pretending to be Ree and moving my furniture.  Coach found his joy in wearing his favorite old sweatshirt and camo hat to Wichita today.  PR said to set aside a day to be full of joy and included that we should wear our favorite clothes.  So when I told Coach he looked a little under dressed, I was told not to be a joy sucker.  Thanks a lot PR.  :)

Have a blessed day all!
Referee of 3

ZUMBA

I was invited to a Zumba class by a friend of mine. 

Sure...I'll go.  I am a really good dancer so this will be right up my alley. 

In my mind, I've always had rhythm.  I can do the running man, the cabbage patch, and the sprinkler with ease. 

It started with my 7th grade dance.  I worked so hard keeping up with my really good dancer friend Jamie, that I sweat through my shirt.  My ratted hair was soaking wet and my electric blue mascara was smudged down my face.  But Vanilla Ice was playing and I couldn't stop.  In my mind I was the one in the middle of the circle showing off my moves.  In reality, there was no circle and people were only watching because I looked like a fish out of water.  Literally. 

From school dances, to my first sorority formal...I was a star on the dance floor.  I was smooth and caught the eye of others in the room with my "moves".  (That is how it played out in my mind, of course)  My beautiful red dress with rhinestone straps was barely hanging on as I swung my arms around in a shopping cart motion.  (I always wondered why that guy never asked me out again)  Again, after my experience tonight, it is apparent to me that I looked like a fish out of water.

I am surprised by the fact that I haven't fallen down more in my "dancing days".  Wedding dances have been my moment to shine as an adult.  And I always thought I had the best of the best moves.  (I am kidding)  The beauty of my personality is that even though I know how ridiculous I look, I would wave my hands in the air...wave em' like I just don't care!  And there...on the other side of the room, in the dark shadows, would be Coach.  Shaking his head in shame.  Bless his heart.

Anyway, Zumba.  This my friends is not for the weak.  As I stood in the back of the room, I realized that all of my "sexy" moves, were hideous.  One side of my body rolls right.  The other...well, it is just unfortunate.  To all the women who were noticing that...I apologize.  I would imagine that those who can Zumba, really do look amazing.  I...simply...looked...RIDICULOUS.  I kept apologizing to the girl next to me as I flailed my hips and arms around like not a fish, but an octopus out of water.  About the time I would get the hang of a move, and was really getting into it, the move would change.  I didn't dare look up as I knew I would just fall down.  I concentrated on my feet and the hands on the clock that slowly moved around the clock.

Graceful, I am not.

Sexy, I am not.

Coordinated, I am not. 

But most of all...in 2012...a QUITTER I AM NOT.

So I will resume my humiliation on Thursday and will attempt to get there in time to stand in the back of the room.  I will be practicing my hip rolling and my "moves" as I try to move around tomorrow. 

Zumba...you will not defeat me.  I think what defeats me is that all of these years, I've thought of myself as a good dancer.

And now I realize...

dancer, I am not.  Let's add that to the list of...Chef, baker, organizer, cleaner, hair fixer, gymnast, runner, stylist, etc.  (and the list goes on and on)

Laugh on friends.  For I will WIN THE BATTLE OF THE ZUMBA.  And will look like a total freak doing it. 

Have a blessed night!
Referee of 3

Once Upon a Time

I know this will shock some of you...but I like to think of myself as a bit of a Princess.  I always have.  In my mind, I would marry my Prince shortly after he saved me from something.  Death...destruction...something...anything.  It just so happens that my Prince saved me from failing macro-economics.  Whatever...he saved me.  However...that was after he married me. 

What is she talking about? 

My love...Coach.

For Christmas this year, my dear Coach got me a Kindle touch.  Because that is what I specifically asked for.  Specifically meaning, I sent him a picture in an email and told him how much, where he could get it and how much I would LOVE to have it. 

After I got over the surprise of getting exactly what I asked for...I loaded a book.  The very first book I loaded onto my sweet Kindle touch was this. 



I have a slight obsession with the Pioneer Woman.  Don't think I am crazy.  She is awesome.  I have a few friends who I KNOW will agree.  Sista included. 

Okay...and my obsession didn't come until AFTER I read this book.  Sure, I'd heard of her.  She was a blogger.  She was also a photographer and super fabulous cook.  So I had no interest in reading her blog.  She takes incredible pictures and makes meals without burning them.  Not only are they not burnt, but they are good.

But this book intrigued me.  I don't know if it is that I went through a cowgirl phase in the 8th grade and thought I could relate?  Or that she is a blogger and has written a book which is one of my lifetime goals.  But for whatever reason, I started reading this book and could NOT put it down.  Coach even threatened to take my Kindle back to the store if I didn't start incorporating some other things into my reading time.  Right...right.  I think this is why I am not much of a reader during this stage of my life.  I get addicted.  I get completely hooked and can't stop.  I read the Twilight Series in a week.  All four books.  I remember trying to wipe Little's face off while reading and wiping the back of his head instead of the front.  It is bad.  I can admit.

But this book was amazing.  Let me tell you why.

The Pioneer woman, lived a very normal pre-married life.  She fell in love and this book tells of their love story.  I won't bother you with the details as I'll spoil the whole experience for you. 

What I will tell you is that this book is changing my marriage. 

Coach and I have been together for 13 years.  We have lived in this house for 11.  I have driven two minivans in the time that Coach has had the same white truck.  We bought it when I was pregnant with Big.  We watch the same shows...eat the same food...and go to the same activities.  Those of our three darling children. 

Life had become a bit...dull.

We love each other very much.  But we love each other when we have time to notice each other.  When we aren't passing each other in the hall or using texting as our main source of communication. 

In reading this book, I started to remember how we fell in love.  I started to remember all of the things that made me fall deeply and madly in love with him in the first place.  That one year when we were just "us".  Times when we were able to pick up and go without any hesitation.  When we couldn't wait to see each other on weekends that I came home from college. 

The more I read, the more I felt them.  The butterflies.  They were back.  All of the memories of our past came rushing in and I remembered things about he and I that I had completely forgotten.  We aren't just a Mom and a Dad.  We aren't just a Coach and a Referee of 3.  We are us.  Somewhere along the way, we had forgotten to nurture that. 

It isn't too late.  We hadn't gotten so far from one another that we were falling away from us.  But we could feel it.  I know I could.

And now...thanks to this amazing blog writer, photographer, cook, marriage saver...we are better than ever. 

Getting married is easy.  STAYING married is not.  So many times, life gets difficult.  Times get tough.  Things happen that bring us to our breaking point.  And then something bigger intervenes and brings you back to the moment when you felt butterflies.  I am so grateful to God for giving me such a special man in my life.  I am so grateful for the Pioneer Woman and her love story with the Marlboro Man.  I am so grateful for my Kindle...and for my Coach. 

I love you babe...so, so much.

See y'all next time!  (That is with a real southern ranch style accent.)
Referee of 3