My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

Fourth Verse, same as the…Well, not so much.  E.L.F. again stands for Eyes. Lips. Face.  So I tried E.L.F. and it wasn’t that great. In fact it was kind of a mess, literally.  And I may “H” word it, as my son Daniel says.  It was a two sided mascara, in a really thin case which I was pretty excited about. And by two sides I mean one end is Waterproof, the other end is not.  I opted to try the waterproof side first. It went on okay.  My lashes didn’t look lovely, or long, just like I put on a little bit of mascara. Pretty standard. But hold the applause because  ba-ba-ba-BUM: Big huge bummer. It was on the day after my major breakdown.  The day where I called my Mom, Joc, the day I cried some more.  And it smeared EVERYWHERE! Down my face.  It was waterproof, I checked again.  I hadn’t unsealed the other side.  Maybe it was a mistake, maybe they packaged it wrong.    And unfortunately it was on my work day, so by the time I went back in for my second and third meetings I looked like I had bags under my eyes.  Well, bigger bags than normal.  And though it smeared all over, I couldn’t wash it off.  Annnnnnd, when I took a shower that night and washed my face it got in my eyes and burned really bad.  Then when I got out of the shower it was even worse. Again all over my face.  For not looking like I was wearing much mascara, a lot came off.

There are very few things I “H” word.  In fact I don’t let my kids use that word, because I find it should only be used for special occasions… I Hate the devil, sin, pedophiles…you get my point. Really bad things. 

But there are a few things that I really dislike(probably more than a few) and I think most of them are pretty petty, and some not so much.   And you might disagree, and that’s ok.

I really don’t like…when people text while they drive. 

I really don’t like…when people write lol.  Here is my disclaimer, if it is really funny that’s okay. But a lot of times it’s just like a thrown in phrase–“My husband/boyfriend is picking up dinner tonight lol.”  What?  Do you really laugh out loud about that?  Seriously?  Yes if you laughed out loud, then write it.  But I think most people just use it, to use it. And forever I thought it meant lots of love.  So really that shows how uncool I am.  And this is the only time you will see me using it.  Also I don’t mind if my little sisters, niece Mikaela, or my Mom use it.  Because they are teenagers and I love that my Mom texts.  And lmao- to me is Lame-o.  Because it takes a lot for me to laugh that hard.

I really don’t like it when…people aren’t consistent with their kids. Or don’t watch their kids. Or when they parent so loud in a public place, like they want you to hear them. 

I really don’t like it when…people don’t keep their dogs on leashes.

I really don’t like it when…I see a picture of me, and start to feel bad about myself. I wish I was better than that. 

I really don’t like it when…I see husbands and wives talking bad about each other.  And not like the mild complaining, “oh I came home and it looks like a toy threw up all over…” No, really putting each other down.   

I really don’t like…bitter people.  Or Evil Step Mothers(because I’ve had one). Or gossip.  Or passive aggressiveness.  Or cheaters. Or judgmental people.

I really don’t like…being left out. It’s an issue I’ve had since I was a kid. It really bothers me.

I really don’t like…letting people down.

I really don’t like…when people don’t use an OB-Gyn when they’re pregnant, or at least have a Midwife who is over seen by an OB-Gyn. Okay, and this might tick people off…but my most traumatic birth was not with a OB.  AND…I’ve lost a child.  A lot of things can go wrong, and really fast, and I don’t want anyone else to go through that.  I’m still not over it.

I really don’t like… the unsolicited opinion of hippies about how many kids I have. I have four.  That REALLY is not that many.

I really don’t like… when naturally fit people  act like they know what it’s like to be overweight.  It is a much harder burden than one can ever imagine.  Especially when you’ve never had to pick out anything over a medium.

I really don’t like…how low my boobs hang.

I really don’t like…bullies.

I really don’t like…people that don’t think Catholics are  Christian.  I LOVE JESUS! HE is MY GOD!

I really don’t like…people that don’t support police.

I really don’t like…Strep Throat.  Or H1N1.  Or any of the nasty bugs my family got this year.

I really don’t like…that I probably passed on the kidney issues both my daughters have had.  It breaks my heart.

And I really don’t like…E.L.F. Mascara.

I know I may be petty, but I could write a million blogs of all the things I love like the smell of my kids after they take baths, and the sound of their laughter. I love that even though I’m always cold, even the tip of my nose, that Chris touches it, and says he’ll always be able to find me in the dark.  I love my yard, and our little house.  I love my faith.  I love my family, and all our quirks. I love the seat warmers in my suburban.  I love running. I love blue skies.  And I love feeling pretty.

But not when mascara is running down my face, burning my eyes.

Final Score:  2. I’m giving it a 2, which I think is generous but I am choosing not to use the other side.  And it is mascara.  lol.  JUST kidding…It was not waterproof unfortunately. And I will not be recommending it anytime, ever.

Next Mascara, Maybelline New York: the COLOSSAL VOLUM’EXPRESS.  Stay tuned…I pray you love much more than you “H” word.

If you read my post from yesterday…Wow! You’re one of the three. I deleted it. It was written in hormonal, kind of hysterical haste.  After a conversation with my Mom, my amazing friend Jocelyn, and some prayer…I realized I was letting something get to me too much and I didn’t need to use my blog as penance.

  Ok, for the rest of you, who didn’t read my rambling blog, first of all I was sad because we sold our Mini Van. Her name was Vanna White.  We had her for seven years, and I loved her. We sold her to some friends who had prayed about getting a bigger car for their own growing family. And with four kids, plus whoever is coming over that day under 5 ft…we out grew her, which is why we bought Fancy my suburban last year.  Chris for years has pined for a Truck, and a friend was selling one and was going to give him a great deal. Chris admitted to me that driving a minivan all the time, was hurting his manhood.  Which by the way is a crock, because there is nothing not masculine about him! But I digress, we sold her.  And I cried.

Secondly, I had gotten a call from someone I hadn’t spoken to in 16 years. Within five minutes of the conversation, she brought up some choices I’d made back then.  In a nutshell I made bad decisions as a kid. I also had some things happen to me when I was a kid that really stunk. But it was over 16 years ago. If I was the same person that I was 16 years ago, I’d be listening to Boys II Men on a ghetto blaster, with a bad perm.  I’ve changed. I have faith, and amazing kids, and a husband who has beautifully muscular arms.  I made some really bad mistakes but I don’t need to apologize forever…I’ve been forgiven. Christ has forgiven Me!  And my mistakes, which were actually lies I told, never were meant to hurt anyone, because they were about me, not anyone else.  I was just messed up. There was no excuse, but at the same time I was dealing with a lot of stuff no one knew about.  Thank you God for my Mom, who knew it all then and now. Thank you God for my friend Jocelyn who I can tell everything to, and has some freakin’ perspective.  16 years ago. A lot can change in 16 years.

But if you had the misconception I was perfect…I’m sorry.  I am a big sinner. But if you’re not…a sinner, totally feel free to throw my dirty laundry back at me. I’ve got plenty, enough in fact for 6 people.  But after you do that could you come and help me fold it?

But enough about me, let’s talk mascara.

Test # 3: Cover Girl, Multiplying Waterproof Mascara…or Multiplying Hydrofuge — sounds much fancier.  Thin dark blue casing, with a silver top. Standard sizing. Color: Black Brown.  I actually really liked this mascara. It didn’t make lashes thicker, but it did make them longer and had a really clean fresh look.  It was supposed to multiply, but I don’t think I looked like I had lashes, and lashes, and lashes.  I did go running twice wearing it and it didn’t smear down my face. And the day that I rambled, I wore it again, and it did smear a teensy bit. But I was crying a lot.

Final Score: 6.5.  It was a good mascara, definitely not perfect, but I’m starting to wonder if it may just be my lashes. But it was above average.  I really liked the clean look of it.  Which is very Cover Girl-ish.   Very appropriate.

Next E.L.F. which stands for Eyes, Lips, Face.  It is another waterproof mascara, and I’ve already tested it out.  Next Blog though!

After writing a blog, deleting a blog, writing another blog, I was thinking about how there are so many thing that we wish we could redo, change. We pray about these things, whether it’s more money or patience or perspective.   In the past few months my faith has really changed, and my prayer life has become a very consistent source of comfort.  I think that’s why what happened a few days ago threw me off so much. I was doing well and suddenly something so far back, made me devastated.  But Evil is that way. Satan uses our past, so that we can’t function in our future. And whether you are religious or not, we all have instances, experiences that try to kill our joy. 

One constant joy in my life is my son Micah.  He is bold and strong, and sweet as can be.  And every night when we pray, he has by far the best intentions.  One night he prayed that, “That Daddy would give me back my Star Wars toy, and that my toy horsey would stop hurting my feelings.”  Another night his prayer was so sincere, “I pray that God will always be God.” He loves the Hail Mary, and asks if we can pray it again as soon as we finish, and he’s even made a dance to it.  He also prayed once for “Indiana Jones.” When I repeated, “Yes, Jesus we pray for Indiana Jones…” He interrupted me, “No Mommy, I pray that I can become Indiana Jones.”    What I love about it is that he has such an unabashed boldness when it comes to prayer. He prays, and he believes. 

I want to be that way.  I want to pray and accept God’s forgiveness and grace, and ask for help.  I don’t want to be guarded.  I don’t need to wear a hair shirt to be holy, and by the way, a hair shirt I’ve heard is seriously itchy.  I just have to have hope.  And I need to let go of the conception that my dirty laundry is the only mark I’m going to leave on this world. On people’s memory of me. Because it’s not.  My prayer is that you can do the same, that you can live a life where the past isn’t what hinders you from embracing life.  We all do things. And our actions can show our real intentions. And sometimes our intentions aren’t good. And sometimes they are masking other pain.  But there is always forgiveness.  And there is always good. And I am blessed with much goodness. 

Goodness comes in all shapes and sizes.  Like a mini-van who is filled with the smell of french fries, and the echo’s of kids laughing.  Like someone who grew up, and has people who love her in spite of her past.  Like Mascara.

Before I unveil my next findings I have to explain why I couldn’t post right away after my second try at a new mascara. My family in true form and fashion got sick.  You know how some people have all the luck?  They are the kind of people who have random amazing things happen to them: they win the lottery, when they don’t have debt.  They win a Caribbean vacation when they own a home in Spain…Well my family is one of those families who shares a lot.  We share germs. Read through my past entries and you see that we get sick. And then we share it. This time it was the stomach flu.  Started with Daniel…Hit Jonah…Smacked Micah…and then POW, I got it. Last night until the early morning.  I’m trying to have hope.  Because tomorrow I am supposed to be at this Woman’s Retreat near Salem Oregon. I have counted the days to go, literally, and I was so excited to see a lot of my good friends there.  And of course we get hit right in the gut with the pukes.  I’m not going to complain, but really? Really? 

But I put on mascara today, even though I wore sweats and no bra.  It’s the little things.

Name: N.Y.C. Curling Mascara

It comes in a small black and silver container. Small enough to fit in a tiny makeup bag, which is a plus.  The wand curls at the end, which is why I’m assuming they use the word curling. The color is Pearlized Black, so I’m expecting it to be pretty dark.  But when I brush it on, it doesn’t look that dark. So I do another coat, and it clumps. Already? What a bummer. As for curling, it did make them curl up a bit, but it didn’t make them look long or lovely, which is my ultimate goal.  Also after a few hours I found little speckles of black remnants of the mascara under my eyes. Definitely not okay, because routinely I have dried jelly on my shoulders and smell like diaper rash ointment. There is only so much this mom can take. 

Final Score: 4.5, it was black and it did curl.  I liked the size…the rest of it?  Not so much.

But God is good. I was able to go to the Retreat after all. In fact I’m going to share more about that on my next post.  But it was wonderful. And I saw some of my oldest, dearest friends.

One of the quotes shared by the guest speaker who I am blessed to call my friend Tammy Evevard shared:

“The Truth shall set you free, but first it will piss you off.” -Gloria Steinem

Which is really good for me to hear after a week of stomach flu and finding out I was rejected on one of my smaller writing projects.   But even though it gets me down, I know that there is Truth, and though it might not always go my way, things will work out. I’ll find my dream mascara, I’ll get published, my kids will get the flu – but I’ll prevail with great organic cleaners and hand sanitizer. 

God is Good.  Because even when things are bleak, miracles happen.  I feel better.  My husband takes all four for the day and jams packs it so no one notices I’m gone.  I see friends who I love, and who know me and still love me.  And even if you read my last post Nicole wrote and told me about her favorite mascara, so I ordered it.  It will be my final test.  But it means, that someone other than my family is reading and maybe, just maybe I will give someone some of the amazing grace I’ve been given, or at least commiserate on the evils of clumping.

Test Number Three: Cover Girl Multiplying Waterproof Mascara…bring on the sad movies. Mama’s gotta cry!

I want a lot of things. I want my children and husband to go to Heaven.  I want to go to Heaven. I want my sisters to live next door to me.  I want World Peace.  And I want lovely long lashes. It has been a small goal of mine since last spring when I spent time admiring my youngest sisters.  They have beautiful long lashes. I know it may sound shallow, it is what it is.   I want lovely lashes. 

I have to admit that I love two things in life that cost money, and that I am a glutton for their advertising.  They are make-up and cleaning supplies. And when it comes to makeup I especially love mascara.  I think it is the one thing every woman needs. While everything eventually sags, mascara makes it all look better.

My love of make up goes back to High School when I was first able to wear it. I’m sure my friend Rosie remembers coming to my house one evening and I literally could not get my eyes open, because I had put SO much mascara on and my lashes were sticking together. So maybe this isn’t a new quest, just a renewed one.

And renewed it is… So, I asked Hannah, one of the owners of “WOWZA” lashes and she told me she loved a brand that was  relatively inexpensive and that starts with the initial “R.”  I bought it, wore it, and it didn’t make my eyes look lovely. In fact they looked mad and red. I think I may have been allergic to it. 

 I mentioned my quest to my close friend Renee. She likes make up too, and knows a thing or two about mascara. She also knows that I don’t have the money to spend on mascara.  She told me about the Maybelline with the pink bottom, green lid : Great Lash Mascara…and so I bought it and actually like the way it looks. My eyes don’t itch.  And I think my lashes look lovely.  Maybe I am born with it, or maybe it really is maybe it is Maybelline. (See I LOVE advertising, it’s my one issue with dvr)

And then Renee did something brilliant she bought me 8 kinds of mascara’s for my birthday.  All so I could find the one that I could love…and they were all inexpensive. In fact she got one at the dollar store, because she is just that thrifty.  So I am trying a new mascara every two days.  I thought I could write a little summary on each of them. Being that I am a tester of sorts, I want to find the mascara that says, “Wow.”

Another reason I am doing this is because I have a really hard time with tragedy. Haiti is suffering enormous devastation with the earthquake from last week.  It is a helpless feeling when all you can do is watch, pray, donate, and pray some more.  I am one of those people who has a hard time separating myself from others heartache.  They are estimating 200,000 people will have perished from this.  That isn’t even heartache, that goes beyond devastation.  So I find myself when I’m not praying trying to focus on something else, shallow as it may be. And I just think writing about mascara may be more enjoyable than mopping my floor. 

My “I’m not a critic but I love mascara” Study Rules

1. They have to be reasonably priced.( I can’t use one and love it and have to remortgage my house to wear it again)

2. I have to try them for two days at least, unless I’m allergic to them.

3. I have to not be afraid of hurting the other mascara’s feelings if I don’t like it. (This is harder than you think) And I will rate them honestly 1-10, 10 being freaking awesome and 1 being, “I’m really sorry, but this won’t work out.”

I’ve decided to blog about this in increments…to be fair to each mascara. So instead of going completely rogue, I tried something closer to the mascara that I really like.  It’s the next step for the Maybelline Mascara.

Experiment 1:  Maybelline Great lash BIG mascara

Packaged just like the other Maybelline I’ve tried, green top, pink bottom, the only initial difference is the word BIG.  The color is Brownish Black or Noir Brun, which is a safe first choice.  I used it for two days and really did notice that it made my lashes look thicker, not longer though.  But it did have a nice fullness about it.  And when I wiped my eyes, it didn’t smear all over my fingers.  The only down side I found, which can be a bit of a pain, is that if I hadn’t washed off the mascara and showered or if I slept in it, it smeared all over my face.  And as we all know the raccoon look is so circa 92.  And it was pretty hard to wash off. I will be the first to admit I’m not really that good at washing my face before bed, so I spent two days waking up looking like I belonged in a parade of zombies.   To be honest it’s not a good look…unless you’re a zombie.

So here’s the score: For Great Lash BIG Mascara.  Solid 7, really liked it, but because of my own slacker ways didn’t like the smear factor.  

So another day, another mascara. About to shower after running today.  Absolutely exhausted from 3.25 miles but so excited for Experiment Dos:  N.Y.C.  Curling Mascara. 

God, bring comfort to the people of Haiti.

God bless you. God bless Mascara.

That’s what I am.  Well, that’s what I’m doing anyway. I’m putting myself out there.  I’m swallowing my pride, and fear, and worry, and am going to try being more brave.

How?

Well, first I have to explain the reasons I wasn’t putting myself out there. Why I wasn’t putting myself  first. There is no real concrete answer. I just stink at it.  My love language is acts of service, so I would rather put everyone ahead of myself, make sure they’re comfortable rather than make sure I am.  I’m that way with my friends. I’m that way with my family. I’m that way as a Mother, I’m that way as a Wife.  But then I started noticing something…around September maybe.  I was resenting it.  I was resenting the fact that I hadn’t slept in months. I was resenting the fact that my time wasn’t mine anymore.  I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without an entourage.  And then a few things happened. Jonah, Daniel, and Chris got H1N1…Our “Fancy” Suburban broke down in the middle of an intersection(while I was wearing leggies and Grace wasn’t even wearing shoes or socks) in the pouring rain…Grace was officially diagnosed having Urinal Reflux…Our “Vanna-White” Van broke down…Then my cell phone broke…Then our home phone broke…Then our computer broke.  If I was a deeper person I’d have thought it was some weird vortex telling me that I was depending too much on worldly things. And then I broke.  I cried for five days straight. I sobbed to my Mom on the phone. I sobbed to my sister on the phone.   I cried to a friend in the preschool parking lot I couldn’t live a life where my entire life was serving everyone else. Even recently someone came to my WW meeting and saw me, and later said she told some mutual parents that I was hilarious at work, and they didn’t believe her. Maybe I had lost my sparkle.  I’d lost something.

And then I had to admit it.  I was never going to be “the perfect wife” in Proverbs. I was never going to be someone who my children would rise up to call blessed…Because at that moment I was broken.  Cracked right down the center.  Falling  apart.

So I chose to do something.  To put myself out there.  The first thing I did was demand time for myself. I started running again. I joined a running group.  What started out as once a week, became two, three, sometimes four times a week…I met other people who weren’t the best at it, the  fastest, but loved to do it.  I made it a part of my life. My time.  I had already planned to walk a half marathon with my Mom in June but when I found out about the Nike Women’s Half in September 2010  I signed up.  To run it.  Because why can’t I run a half marathon?  Why am I not worthy of being someone who can finish something that is 13 miles?  I lost 8osome pounds five years ago, why can’t I accomplish something else that great?  Because I was scared that I wasn’t good enough. And today I’m not good enough, but I will be.

I started making date night a priority again.  Nine Years ago I looked in Chris’s eyes and all I saw was Us.  Today Us involves a mortgage, children, debts, and responsibility.  We don’t have family here, so we don’t have the luxury of just calling someone to watch the kids for a few hours. Instead we pay $12 an hour, just to have time away. And it is worth every penny.  We don’t have the money, but we can’t afford to not have that time.  I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I fell in love with him when I was 17 and that we’ve been together since then.  We are not the perfect couple, we have to work really hard, but I love him today more than I ever could have imagined that day in 2000.

I’ve started praying more.  I pray more with Chris. I pray more with the kids.  I pray more because I miss my Grandpa so much it hurts and my heart breaks for my Grandma.  I pray because police officers are dying at the hands of evil people and I fear for my husband everyday. I pray because evil exists.  I pray in thanksgiving. I pray because I need too.

I’ve stopped apologizing. I’ve stopped apologizing to people who think I’m too overprotective because I don’t trust 99% of people with my kids. I’ve stopped apologizing for spending money to get my hair done. I’ve stopped apologizing for people who don’t watch or parent their kids. I’ve stopped apologizing for never being caught up on the laundry. I’ve stopped apologizing for my faith. I like to pray the Rosary. I think that being a catholic christian is awesome. I have friends that live different lifestyles, and I accept them because I love them and I don’t expect them to apologize. I’m not going to apologize anymore for being funny, or for not liking books about vampires.   I am a good consistent parent, and I don’t have to apologize for that.

I’ve also been trying to come to be honest, okay so I’m not there yet, with people who hurt my feelings.  Because I tend to put others first I am hoping to some day say that hurts my feelings  when…you don’t make time for me. When I’m always the first person you’ll cancel on when something better comes up. When you are late and don’t call. When you say you’ll read something I’ve written for you and you don’t. When we’re together and you text someone the whole time.  When you don’t support me. Because putting myself out there and having the previous experiences happen… to me that’s you saying You Don’t Love Me.  There I said it.

And lastly I am writing again. I resubmitted to a publisher.  I’m putting my material back out there, even though I’ll be rejected more than accepted.  I’m going to be brave.  How can I follow a dream if I’m not willing to put myself on the line…that’s not believing in myself, and I’m better than that.  I am.  I just forgot that for a while. And I’m not loving less, in fact I’ve found my capacity to love is greater than it’s ever been.  I love my husband and kids so very much. I love my life. And I love to write.

Recently I read something when I was out with my youngest beautiful sisters in Washington, it said:

“Blessed are the cracked, because they let in the light.”

I totally agree, until I was broken I was lost and couldn’t even recognize who I was anymore.  So here I am. Finally writing again. Out there. I’m out there.  It’s a great place to be.

Yep, I’m out there. So what?

I wrote the first half last July 2008:

A few weeks ago I ate 5 sugar cookies.  They weren’t small ones.  They were big fatty cookies that you can buy at Safeway.  I had looked longingly at them since mid-May, but for some reason I decided that day to go buy them.  I didn’t eat them all the same time.  I ate them intermittently through out the day. When they were gone I didn’t feel good.  I felt sick.  And I don’t want to eat those kind of cookies again for a very very long time. Five was enough, thank you very much!

I was really looking forward to summer.  I was on pins and needles waiting to not have to set my alarm, try to get the boys to school on time.  And I am really enjoying that.  I have great sleepers that will all sleep in later than my alarm, and let me sleep for ten more minutes if I really need to.  What I wasn’t prepared for was the fighting…the “I think he has more than me”…the…”Why?”…and the whining. Especially because for the first part of the summer Chris was gone.

Eugene hosted the 2008 Olympic Trials and there was a lot of overtime to be had.  Chris had warned me he wanted to sign up for a lot of extra work, but I hadn’t anticipated that he would be gone for 18 days.  He slept at home for 6-8 hours a night, but then would leave again.  It was a great opportunity.   He is amazing.  I missed him, the boys missed him. 

Maybe that’s why I ate all those cookies.  Thinking back, and cringing, it reminds me a lot of a life I used to live.  Trying to fill other things with food. I would get so excited about the excess of food. We would go places and spend great lengths later talking about the food, not the places we went, the things we saw.  It should have come as no surprise that I gained 20 pounds right after I got married.  They joined the 20 pounds I’d gained being in college.  Add that in with the “whole lotta” pounds I gained being pregnant, and you have food that left me anything but comforted.  Just full, stuffed, and oh so very guilty.  It  was a cycle that is unforgiving. I feared when I was out in public with Chris, people would later talk about his overweight wife.  I stuffed away the realizations that I was overweight.  And it was a miserable place to be. 

God has blessed me greatly.  But not in a great self esteem sort of way.  And I think that pregnancy brings out all the ugly sides of me too.  Those raw sides that I’m too prideful to admit to even my closest friends.  The fears, insecurities, and general me’ness that I was confronted with over and over again while Chris was gone.  When I was in high school I became obsessed with my weight. So much so I had to go to counseling after my sisters caught me repeatedly getting rid of food in the bathroom on a trip.  They caught that early, and I have never done that since especially after the doctor explained what that would do to my teeth…  

Today July 23 2009:

In 2001 I joined WW for the first time, I joined again, and again that year.  I would lose a few pounds and then quit.  I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around the whole I can’t eat my emotions away.  When I was pregnant with Daniel, Amy decided she wanted to join WW and we joined together after he was born.  We met this amazing woman Mary who helped us both and we  took to it.  Amy didn’t let me quit, and I took off the weight from my pregnancy’s, then from my first months of marriage, then from most of my college weight. And let me just say I lost weight slower than a snails pace, but I still lost it. I started to see that I was emotionally tied to the instant gratification that food gave me, but that I didn’t have to be.  I broke up with food, and starting dating my life. Living my life.  It sounds cheesy but I don’t care. And then I got a job there.  I love it and I love the people I work with.  And to be even more cheesy it changes people’s lives…but only when they’re ready.

I’ve gained and took the weight off after the last three pregnancies.  This time in my 30’s with Grace has been the hardest. Partially because losing the weight after Micah was so easy because I nursed him, while pumping and providing breast milk for another baby.  Slowly I am losing the weight, I enjoy food, but I am not eating every time I “feel” like it, only when I’m hungry.  I haven’t gotten to work out as much this time, getting time with 4 kids, their schedules, Chris’s schedule, and trying write/clean.  But it’ll happen.  Maybe that will be my next goal. I have about 10 lbs to go, and really all I want is to fit into my clothes again.  I think the working out will help that too.    In the next year I am doing a few 5k’s, a 10k, and a half marathon…I’ve gotta get going.

This losing weight thing is a process, but the changing the way I view myself and live in my own skin is a commitment I have to make everyday.  Especially because I have a daughter. I never ever want Grace to think of herself less than beautiful.  I don’t ever want her to think she will be defined by her body.  I don’t want my demons to influence the fragile beautiful person she should have the right to grown into.  And my weight gain and stretch marks that marked my pregnancies are the signs that I was a part of a miracle.  That is not a bad thing.

When I read back over the first part of this post I laughed. I was so hormonal, and I was crying in my sugar cookies because Chris was gone for 18 days. My sisters husband has been gone for over a year(in Iraq no less)…I’m such a wuss.  When it comes to my life and the changes I’ve wanted to make I always think of some of the women who surround and love me.  They inspire me to be the best person I can possibly be and I hope to have a little of their somethin’ somethings…

I hope to have tenderness of my Mom.  The strength of my sister Melissa.  The resilience of my sister Erin.  The dedication of my sister Hannah.  The joy of my sister Kaitlin.  The confidence of Amy. The passion of Emily.  The generosity of Renee. The frankness of Lish.  The acceptance of Angel. The character of Mandy. The hope of Jocelyn. The understanding of some EPD wives.  The laughter of my mother in law Joan.  And the faithfulness of my Grandmother Noralee. 

There are so many other women I could and should mention.  That is another reason I’m blessed.  I have had the opportunity to know amazing women…If you are one of the few people who read this please count yourself included.

 I take it day by day, week by week, and hopefully by the fall I can fit into my favorite jeans. But even if I don’t I know I’ll be okay.  I have a great God.  I have people that love me.  And even on bad days when most things don’t fit, I am blessed.  I may complain, but I do see that my cup overflows.

Last July I ate 5 sugar cookies, and it wasn’t the end of the world. Nothing can fill me like the love of Christ.  My life theme is The Joy of the Lord is strength…may you be ready for whatever changes come your way.

A few weeks ago at work I overheard a fellow mom complaining about summer. She was moaning about having her kids’ home all day, dreading the whining, and was already counting the days until school started back in September. When I told her I enjoy having the kids home for the entire summer and dread September she laughed. She said, “Your kids are young. Just you wait.”
I didn’t argue. I never do when someone who has lived through parenting a little longer says something like that because in many cases I’ve eaten my words later. Before I was a parent I had a lot of ideas. When I became a parent I realized that many of them were crap (please don’t tell my kids I said that word). Now being a parent is a year to year process. Chris and I have a set of rules we adhere to, punishments we agree on…We will be consistent. We will follow through. We will support each others decisions. We will love our kids. We will pray a lot. And we breathe.
Before I had kids I said I would never ever let my children cry it out. But that was also before I had a child who camped out on my breast. Before I became a lactating pacifier. I read all the books on getting kids to sleep. Did all the methods. Nothing worked. I went in after 5 minutes and rubbed Jonah’s back (exactly like the method said) and his head practically spun off. It only made him more ticked. So I let him cry it out. It was hard, but with in four days he was sleeping through the night. I did it with the other boys and it worked. Never say never. And I don’t because Grace has to start the process again next week.
I also said my kids would never have a game system. When I was pregnant with Jonah I worked with Middle Schoolers, and I saw how obsessed the boys got with their game-boys. “Never,” I said to Chris. “I don’t want to have a kid who will become a man and be obsessed with some video game.” Since I was very pregnant Chris agreed with me. And I stuck with that. I said with great conviction the same statement to my friend Teresa too. And she laughed. She has boys who are older than mine. But I was convinced. In fact I never even knew Jonah knew about gaming systems until my Dad was visiting for his preschool graduation. We went to Applebee’s to celebrate and my Dad asked Jonah is there was anything he wanted. Not missing a beat my oldest said, “I want a game boy. But my mom isn’t a fan.” Later that afternoon my Dad presented Jonah with a bright shiny game boy…and a 22 rifle. Because nothing says preschool graduation like a game boy and a gun.
Before I tackled my dad, Chris took me in our room and said we could limit it. That we would limit it. So I relented. And it has been a great thing. The kids take turns. Play it in the car on long car rides. It is incentive for getting piano practiced and beds made. It is limited. And the gun…it’s locked in a safe. For the next twenty years.

“Just you wait.”

We are in the second week of summer vacation at our house and I still love having the kids’ home. We are sleeping in, going to swim lessons, playing in the back yard, and enjoy cheering Chris on at his softball games(fyi: his team is called the Street Sweepers, and he’s the only one who is called Officer Yummy Pants). My only complaint today is that we ran out of milk again (boys drink a lot of milk), and my face is covered in mosquito bites from a weekend visiting Chris’s 92 year old Granni in Illahe. We just got back from the library and my house is quiet with two nappers and two very content readers. Blissful.
In the past few years I’ve grown a lot and for the better. I’ve seen that bad things can happen in an instant. That the world can turn upside down when you least expect it. But if you wait it out, good things can come out of even the worst situations. And while I’m not over it, I can grow from this. I have grown from this. And I will seize ever ounce of joy out of every day that I can. I will never have my laundry put away completely. I will never be clutter free. But I will laugh with my kids. I will be consistent. I will dance with them. I will teach them to pray. Instead of losing it on the worst day when everyone is whining, one has a fever, the other peed all over the bathroom floor and Grace refuses to be put down…I will breathe.
Maybe that’s what I like about summer. You are surrounded by the opportunities of “I get to,” rather than “I have to.” And maybe you’ll have an idea of how the day will go and it will be completely different. There are endless possibilities. Limitless opportunities.
And maybe someday I’ll dread having them home. I’ll be over the whining and be done with summer. But for now I know I’m one of a select few that love having them home for these months. So far I’ve never been that mom waiting for my kids to grow up so I could have a life again. I’ve never pined for nights away, when a workout or a nap will suffice. Someday all too soon they’ll be gone, and my house will be silent. And I dread that. I really do.
Its summer and I don’t have to wait for anything…I get to be with my kids, love my husband, and try not to scratch the mosquito bites on my face. It may not last, but today I’m a fan of summer.

I want to dedicate this blog to my good friends Renee, Kati, Koya, and my sisters…who totally get it.

The past year I’ve been writing for a Christian Publication, building my resume–this is my latest and favorite article. You’ll notice that I’m repeating some of my past thoughts, but so what? We’ve all got baggage. (Smile) I celebrated Easter after a healing Lent. Thank you for reading my blog…

The One Voice That Matters(for the Troubadour)

I’ve always loved the scene in “The Sound of Music” when Maria has all of the Von Trapp children huddled in the bed during the storm as she sings about her favorite things. Even recently when I watched it I could still feel the heavy down of her comforter, soft and soothing, the reassurance that everything would be okay—the storm would soon be over. That part over any other part of the movie resonates with me. I can’t even count how many times I’ve calmed a screaming child with a kiss and a band-aid, how I’ve soothed a feverish babe with a song and a washcloth, and how I’ve broke up a fight with good old fashioned distraction.
I recently heard the liberal community I live in referred to as a place with a million unsolicited opinions, and I agree. In fact I find our world has become that way too. From the magazines commenting on a movie stars cellulite to politics becoming more and more anti-family/anti-life. I saw it first hand in my last months of pregnancy with Grace. In one weeks time I was told by a woman that I was the largest pregnant woman she had ever seen, and by a completely different person I was told that my pregnancy was an epidemic and she wanted to thank me for adding another carbon footprint. Unsolicited. Unnecessary. Unwarranted. I found that no band-aids would make it better, I went from being so proud of my round belly to feeling all too big. I’d look at those “perfect” movie stars with the small basketball for a belly and compare, thinking of how unfair it was that I was so much larger.
My Lenten fast of complaining was similar to an experiment in faith. Could I really break years of habitual griping in order to find the good in everything? But what started as a simple gesture to teach my children gratefulness became in many ways a life changing lesson for me. Because it wasn’t just those outside unsolicited opinions that led me to complain. Giving up complaining also meant saying goodbye to an internal voice that has followed me for years. An ugly internal dialogue that menaced at every turn of my life, waiting for me to make a small slip up and unload on me. An opinion I’d allowed, even welcomed.
Bad housekeeper. Lousy Mother. Unattractive Wife. Lazy. Selfish. Stubborn. Prideful. Shallow. Sinner. The list goes on and on. These are things I would say to myself on a regular basis not even thinking twice about it and I could never seem to be free of them, because they were inside of me. But when I gave up letting that inner voice dictate my self worth, I broke free from the thunder clouds that tainted my vision on faith, Christ, myself.
During Lent every time I heard that voice began to speak I thought of the things I love, my most favorite things. Grace’s dimples when she laughs, Micah’s loud singing voice, Daniel’s vivid imagination, and Jonah’s great compassion; all gifts from a God who makes things in his image, beautiful. When I felt my frumpiest, worthless in my own skin and the thoughts began I thought of how Chris still looks at me as if it is our wedding day, as if I am the only woman in the world. I’ve found myself giving more thanks for my amazing life and praying for the things that really matter.
Giving thanks also really made me think about how easy it is to listen to every other opinion but God’s. How simple it is to lose faith in ourselves as we become caught up in life’s own storm. And suddenly prayer becomes something we do just once in a while as the worlds voice becomes louder than the only one that matters. His voice that loves me unconditionally, because he is a much greater judge than I could ever be of myself.
It’s funny that in forty days I have more perspective than I could possibly have in 30 years. Breaking up with that internal dialogue has been harder than I thought, because I’ve lived with it for a long time. But I’m doing this huddled under the grace of Christ’s soothing reassurance that I can.
And while the lights may flicker, rain will fall, and people will be rude I am comforted in tremendous blessings. I am married to the man of my dreams. I get to watch my own home-made carbon footprints grow more beautiful every day. And I am beautifully made because Jesus is the center of every part of my life. My name Kristin which means follower of Christ is one more testament of that.
I am one of his favorite things.

I wrote this the day before Grace came.  I didn’t get to finish it.  I made some revisions and here it is. I’ll write more about my life as a Mother of four very soon…And my Grace, she is just beautiful. 

Fall is my favorite season of the year.  I love the crisp feel of the mornings and how in the afternoon you usually don’t need to wear a jacket.  I love the smell of the fresh rain drops and the crunchy leaves that I step on in my yard and on sidewalks.  I love that on Saturdays that it’s still dark around 7 am and sometimes Micah is fooled and sleeps until 8.  I love driving with my boys sipping my skinny hazelnut latte with my green straw admiring all the colors that hang from the trees. 

A couple of months ago we went to the pumpkin patch on a Monday afternoon after Jonah got done with school.  I had been feeling sorry for myself because Chris had to switch days until Grace was born.  Instead of having “the good days” off, we’d been forced to settle for Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.  On Sunday he is barely awake for Church and takes a nap during the day because though he is supposed to be off at 2am, he rarely was.  But on this day I was thankful for our non weekend.  We were the only people at the pumpkin patch that day.  The only people on the tractor ride.  The only people picking out pumpkins. It was lovely. 

It made me think about there is a time for everything, even when the timing doesn’t seem right.  Today I’m wondering once again what God’s will is.  What HE wants for my life.  In less than a  week I give birth to Grace and I am really tired. Six weeks ago I rushed Micah to the ER in the wee hours of the night for a steroid shot to open his windpipe.  The next day our my mini-van mega fun broke down.  The dayafter that a very mean lady was reelected at mayor of our city by a mere 1400 votes.  She is a woman who affects my husbands job, and doesn’t like street cleaners, which makes an already stressful job, more stressfilled.   The next day was the day my Mary would have been three. Then Micah got an ear infection, my really good friend moved away, Chris’s car broke down, we celebrated Veterans Day with my brother in law over in the desert again…blah, blah, blah.  I’m not trying to be a woe is me sort, I’m just wondering…what now?  Even though all I really want is a break.

Lately I’ve been really focusing on Ecclesiastes…This time of year always brings that out in me. Because good things have happened lately too.  Beautiful women in my life threw me a shower.  It was my kind of shower, no cheesy games, mexican food, and the blessing and prayers of people who know me and still love me.  I’ve been panicking less, and just giving things up.  Things like if the carpet is spotless or if the recycling is taken out right away.  Some of that is due to the fact that Chris took his paternity leave a week early because he doesn’t have a job he can just leave, and has a wife who has babies fast– and it didn’t hurt that my Doctor put me on partial bedrest until next Friday.  I need Him, Christ, and I need him, Chris, and both have given me that break. 

Because just like in Ecclesiastes 3 there really is a right time for everything, and these are some of the examples.  I didn’t use them all because there are a lot.

A time to be born,  because Grace will come early if she wants or she’ll wait for next Friday. (And she did…the next day after I argued with Chris, My Mom, and a nurse that I was NOT in labor…Even though I was…Grace was born three hours later)

 A time to die, Even when it doesn’t make sense or is unfathomable.                                                                 

A time to kill; because I really believe all sugar ants should die.                                                                     

 A time to heal; it doesn’t mean we didn’t love them or that we forgot– healing is okay. Atleast that’s what I keep telling myself.

A time to cry; When the woman bullied me at work because,”I was the biggest pregnant women she’d EVER seen!”  And kept going and going and going.  In my hormonal state I started crying and couldn’t stop… I thank God for Bonnie and Linda who intervened, and Amy who listened to me cry some more later on.

 A time to laugh;  When I was with my men at Starbucks less than a week later and a crazy hippy approached me to say my pregnancy was an epidemic…she ranted some more…and then thanked me for “adding another carbon footprint.”  I could have cried, but instead Chris and I laughed. I also said something to her, but this is not the time.

A time to grieve; for the widower that lost his wife from my sons school who picks up his daughters every day smiling even if his eyes don’t, my heart breaks for you and I grieve with you.                                          

A time to dance;  even if it makes you have to pee–dancing I think is the best antidepressant ever invented by God. 

A time to lose;  Because winning is overrated. And the Seattle Mariners need real fans not fair weather ones.

A time for keeping; I choose to remember all the firsts and lasts in this life, even when it’s not comfortable…it was still worth it.

A time for throwing away; If underwear is torn, toss it out.  That’s all.

A time to be quiet; Because sometimes it’s none of our business.

A time to speak up; Some of my heroes have spoken up, and lost everything.  There is never a wrong time to advocate for the protection of others, especially children.

A time for loving; because right now I feel very loved.  Maybe not pretty with extra pounds and a very unflattering but practical bra.  Maybe not smart as I function as a very exhausted person half the time.  But loved.  Today I feel loved and that’s more than enough.

 Happy Fall! I took the summer off from writing my blog.  Instead I wrote for two publications and spent the rest of my time starting to write things and then turning off my computer, opening a book, and losing myself in someone else’s words.  I want to say I’ve worked on my manuscript, but I haven’t.  Between the boys and growing the baby I haven’t had much time to be creative. I celebrated my eighth anniversary,  and my Micah turned two.  Chris worked the Olympic trials. We went to two family camps, I saw family, and my brother in law left again for the desert. It was a great yet trying summer, but now with bedtimes strictly set and kids actually falling asleep, and Officer Yummy Pants still working the swing shift I’ve got the night to myself.  And I’m a whole lotta hormonal.

Lately I’ve been looking back at all of my pregnancies.  I’ve thought about each one and the things I craved. The things that grated on me.  Each one has been so completely unique, but so have each of my children.  Maybe I’m thinking about these things because life has been difficult lately.  Chris works too hard at a job, in a place that is undeserving.  The boys are fine, but I am still not used to the getting up early song and dance.  And I have a small child who likes to rest on nerves low in my abdomin, making sharp pains shoot all over my body.  Mix that in with one very painful bladder infection, finding out that my blood sugar is too low, that my blood pressure is even lower, and you have these last weeks in a nutshell. 

I hate to sound ungrateful because I am grateful, and so blessed.  But my hormones aren’t helping anything.  I’m crying a lot.  When I cry a lot, I contemplate.  I search for meaning behind it all.  I get mad at God, because conveniently he is okay with me being mad and keeps loving me anyway.  But for now to get back in the whole blogging thing I’ll share about the cravings and rantings.  Because I really have craved very intricate things and the rantings; they just come down to people being insensitive or just dumb.

Ah…the cravings:

Jonah was my first pregnancy.  I had just gotten married and put on about 30 lbs of good loving weight.  Then I was pregnant and proceeded to put on another 60-70lbs.  I am not exaggerating. The first months all I ate were grilled cheese sandwiches and pokemon mac’cheese…Ironically these are both of Jonah’s favorite things now.  If only I would’ve known my despise for pokemon and I would’ve forgone the mac’cheese.  After the first months I just  ate everything. Especially ice cream and late night trips to Denny’s for club sandwiches.  I was huge, but delighted in growing him.  He was my first and my size never bothered me at all.  What did bother me was my persistant heartburn, the constant swelling on my ankles, and my mobility.  Looking back I would only change my eating habits, everything else was just peachy.  Jonah was my longest and hardest labor: 8 hours.

Daniel came and I fell in love with mexican food.  I’d never really liked it before but now it is my favorite favorite food.  I was nauseous for about 3 months, and ate peanut butter sandwiches and oatmeal creme cookies.  My Daniel hearts Peanut Butter. The only thing that made me extrememly nauseated was Natalie Maines voice from the Dixie Chicks.  It gave me shoulder raising shivers, and so I couldn’t listen to them the entire pregnancy.  Again I felt good, but my  new Dr. was obsessed with my weight and commented on it every chance she got.  When I was in labor the oncall came in and was a super star…she was nice, very pretty, and knew what she was doing…I never saw my old Dr. again.  Daniel rested on my sciatic nerve the last few weeks of my pregnancy, so I had trouble walking and was in constant pain.  He was my quickest labor: less than 2 hours.

With my Mary I was mostly just sick.  I had to go to the hospital twice for fluids and couldn’t seem to keep anything down.  I lost weight at an alarming rate and just kept praying everything would be okay.  For the short time after some very expensive anti-nausea meds I craved beef jerky with her.  I really liked beef jerky.  And then it all changed.

Micah was a pregnancy I was so grateful for.  I craved watermelon, and iced coffee drinks with extra whip cream.  But my main indulgence was cookie dough blizzards…loved them!  It’s funny now, because Micah loves food.  He just loves it. But he especially loves iced coffees that he somehow finds off the highest counters and ice cream, anything that involves ice cream.  Towards the end of my pregnancy I started to panic that something would be wrong with him.  I panicked so much that they decided to induce me.  My labor with him was fast, but even though the cord was wrapped around his neck he was okay.  Beautiful and okay, and a labor with an epidural that worked wonders: 5 hours.

And now comes Grace…  This pregnancy started out hard like Mary’s.  They put me on medication earlier to help with the all-day-I-think-I’m-going-to-die-sickness.  After months of that I started wanting to eat foods.  I love Avocado’s this pregnancy and would eat them every day.  I’ve also been a big fan of red grapes and turkey pepperoni.  There are days when all I’ve thought about are Starbucks coffee…so I’ve bought a lot of them.  I swell with any little bit of sodium so I drink about 2 gallons of water a day. No joke. I’ve tried to really watch what I’ve eaten this pregnancy, but hasn’t seemed to make such a difference as my body has went into full preggo filling mode.  I am carrying lower this time and I like to call my belly with Grace in it the ever growing innertube.  I also don’t feel that great about myself.  Though I weigh less at this time than any of my other pregnancies I feel bigger.  Maybe it’s because I’m tired all the time, maybe it’s because she’s a girl.  Chris says that Grace has taken all my feel good,  so I have to keep reminding myself I am growing someone beautiful.

If I could just rant a bit:

Almost every day I’m asked if I’m having twins.  Almost every day someone says I look like I’m about to pop.  And I just have to say it drives me out of my freakin’ mind.  Not that I wouldn’t welcome twins, but I know that is just another way of saying, “Good Golly, You’re Huge!”  I know they don’t mean anything by it, but it still really hurts my feelings.  And sometimes it makes me cry (but it doesn’t take a lot to make me cry…in fact I cried during What Happens in Vegas the movie — I don’t think they meant it to be sad) 

I’m also sick and tired of hearing people say that the only reason we had another baby was to have a girl. Yes,  I am SO excited I’m having Grace, but never once did I want a girl more than a boy.  Creating life just doesn’t work that way.  I never clicked my heels together three times and thought thoughts about pretty princesses, and rainbow-brite pony’s to have a girl. I have a daughter, and though I don’t get to raise her she’s still mine. And I have loved having boys.  I love that they love being dirty, and think that fish hatchery’s are cool.  I love that they tackle their dad every time he sits on the floor and that as I type this they are building an enormous train track together for their Star Wars characters.  I love that there are more fist fights than drama, and I love that Chris and I are on the same team when it comes to parenting.  We are consistant and are raising good grateful children…who will someday become good grateful men.

 As much as I rant, I must rave about those good things.  The way my boys hug me and kiss my belly goodnight.  The way Micah pats my belly and says, “Baby Grace, Daddy’s Grace.”  The way Jonah talks about how he’s going to help me with her when she’s born and he’ll play with her, “As long as it’s not too girly.”  When Daniel talks to her about his day, and sings her the Johnny Appleseed song followed by a Taylor Swift love ballad.  They are going to be such good big brothers, and even though it’ll be another big transition I know they’ll be okay.  And we’ll be okay.  When I was pregnant with Micah someone actually said that they’d heard that people with three kids go so crazy they want to drive off a cliff.  Never been tempted,  not even once, though many times my kids have asked if it was possible…just to see how bumpy it would be.

These good things keep me going when it hurts to walk or when I start to worry that something will be wrong with my Grace.  These good things bring me peace through my kids who pray openly with God, trusting better than me, and a husband who loves me so completely.  Good things like family, and friends, who see me as I’ve always been…not perfect, but perfectly flawed with an endless craving to know what God has in store. 

So in the next couple months I’ll blog a bit more, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be with out a little rant here and there.  And where my writing may be lacking, I am determined low blood pressure, blood sugar, innertube and all to keep focus on the faith that has never let me down. 

This precious time, so literally “full of Grace” is worth it!