For my Mother-in-law, who says I've obviously been busy lately. :)

You know the problem with getting out of synch with regular blogging? Writing that next post. I have lots of ideas, but not all of them want to come out just yet. I know that the next post is not usually my favorite, so I don't want to "waste" any good ideas if I'm not going to write them well. But I just need to get going again. I thought about giving a theme to certain days. I have a friend who does Mundane Mondays, and another who does the Tuesday Ten, and yet another who does Friday Flibbertijibbits. I thought, "Weirded-Out Wednesdays? Thesaurus Thursdays? Sappy Saturdays?" Yeah. I thought it was ridiculous, too.

So here it is. My regular ol', one time "Getting back into the Groove" post.



There have been a few things I've enjoyed lately that I wanted to share.

1. My Monday night life group. We're watching DVDs based on the book "Culture of Honor" by Danny Silk. And they are changing my life. The first night I pulled one point out of his message and chewed, and chewed, and chewed it to bits. I will never be the same after realizing I had this lie buried inside me. Maybe that will be in a future post. :)

2. Heaven is for Real. You've probably seen this book in Wal-Mart. My friend, Lisa, loaned me her copy. She did this because a.) she is a giver, and b.) she knows I have a need to read good books, and she helps me out with that whenever she can. It's a quality I love about her!
I think this book is lovely. I don't want to give anything away, because I want you to read it for yourself. All I will say, is that after reading this book I think, "Why on earth do we hold onto life so hard? Shouldn't we all have a death wish so we can hurry up and get to heaven?" Ok, that's a little exaggerated. A little. I know why I love my life, and I'm sure you love yours. Truly. But heaven sounds so, so good to me now. And this book left me walking around the house singing to my girls, "Heaven is a wonderful place! (I wanna go there!)"

3. Sandra Boynton and Mo Willems. Have I ever mentioned how much I love children's books? These are two of my favorite kids' authors. She writes board books like this one and this one, and he writes the Elephant & Piggie books which I love and tell EVERYONE about. We have several books in our homes with these two names on the front.

4. This cd. (Oh, come on! You know I had to go there!)

What have you been enjoying lately?

Tips for a better (post baby) life.

Maureen is seven months old today, but I still consider myself a new mommy (again). I've learned out some things about myself this time that I didn't know before, or had forgotten. I decided to post them for any of my new mommy friends out there, but also for myself. I figured that if I wrote them all down in one place, I'd have a better chance of keeping them fresh in my mind for easy reference.

1. Eat protein. This has become kind of a big one for me lately. If I don't snack regularly, or don't eat protein, I can feel my blood sugar drop. I get shaky, weak, tired, and if I run for too much longer like that, I'm like a car trying to run without gasoline. Once I do eat, my body is still toast for a few hours. So I try to eat at regular times, or eat early if I know I'm going to be out somewhere during snack time.

2. It's still okay to sleep. My friend Charity posted about getting up before her kids and how being ready for the day helped her mood. I totally agree, and at the time I also had been trying to wake up at 6 every morning to get ready before my girls got up. But my routine hit a big snag. When Maureen started sleeping through the night, my big girls started waking up. At first it was just sickness, or waking up and not being able to put themselves back to sleep. But now Elsie wakes up almost every night to use the bathroom. And while I'm grateful that she's using the toilet . . . you get the idea. It's a little rough. And it's been seven months. I don't even set my alarm anymore, except on Sundays. And sometimes I still nap in the afternoon. And for right now, I'm cool with that.

3. Remember how some days you just can't take yourself too seriously? Well, some days you just can't take yourself too seriously. Dude. There's still a lot of hormones going on in there.

4. Friends . . . are your friends. Lack of sleep, hormones, and other random variables all can all add up to bogged down thinking for me. And being with friends is like opening up a window in a stuffy room. Laughing, hearing different perspectives, getting outside my own little bubble -- all these things help me a lot even if we still have all our children with us when we get together.

5. And sometimes it's okay to be by yourself, too. I'm a stay-at-home mom, so that last one about friends is key for me, but alone time is good too. It's not always easy, and it's not always feasible to have a large chunk of time (especially when the babies are tiny) but I think every little bit helps. A trip to the library where you pick from the big people section, a quick run to the store without unloading car seats, a trip to your favorite ice cream shoppe. On really hard days I lock the doors when I go to the bathroom. And sometimes those few minutes make all the difference.

Anything I forgot? I'd love to hear your advice!

Object Permanence

I played peek-a-boo with Maureen today. They say it's good for babies, all that peeking and booing. Well, maybe more the peeking than booing. It's supposed to teach them a concept called object permanence, meaning that just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's not there. For adults, that translates into the wind, atoms and molecules, or you know -- the keys you left on the crowded counter.

But for babies, it just means Mom's still here. Look, Ree, I'm right here. I was just behind my hands for a minute. But now I'm back. When you play peek-a-boo with your babies, you're helping them to understand that when you lay them down for a nap, you might still be in the house. (Or you might be on a date. But you'll still be back at some point.) This in turn, helps them transition to time spent at a friend's house or in the church nursery. Mom's not here now, but she's coming back.

And while I was playing I thought about how God has object permanence. I think it takes Him longer to teach us this one that it takes us to teach our babies. Some days we can be fairly convinced that He is not around (because OBVIOUSLY things would not have turned out this way if He was).
Now, I'm not suggesting that God is up there playing games with us in our darkest hour, merely hiding behind His hands while we cry out. What I'm saying is, sometimes we let other things get in the way of us seeing how God could be in our situation. Could speak to us in our situation. Could move and change our situation. We think He's not there.

But wait for it ... wait for it ...

Image

I love it when people tell me that one of my daughters looks like me.

When Natalie was born, we thought she bore a strong resemblance to Jason, and most people agreed. His nose, his eyes, his forehead, his ears. I didn't mind. I (obviously) find Jason extremely attractive. So when Jason's step-mom asked me if I minded that Natalie looked so much like him, I said, "How can I when she's so cute?"
Now that Natalie's five, I get a lot more comments about her looking like me. At first, I didn't believe them. I thought, "That's strange. Must be the glasses. Because she's always looked like Jason." But I've gotten so many comments now, and I've come to realize I like it.

Now Elsie -- she has golden blonde hair, blue eyes . . . so different from my dark hair and eyes. But she looks like my sister, which means she must get her looks from me, right?

When Jason and I were in the hospital, and Maureen was just a day old, he looked at her and said, "You know, I think she's gonna look like you. Something about her . . . I don't know, I just think that she's going to end up looking like you -- more so than the other girls." And boy, you know I've latched on to that. I looked at her today, finding all the things about her that she may have gotten from me. I was so proud.

It's funny. I didn't like my looks for a long time when I was growing up. But now I'm wishing them on all of my girls. I think it's a natural desire in parents, to have a little someone that looks like them. Maybe it's because we're all created in Someone Else's image to begin with.

Reasons I love having little girls.

1. They can sing "Sisters" from White Christmas.

2. Friends for life. A sales clerk saw me in the store with the girls the other day and she said that she has three daughters and she tells them, "I've given you automatic friends." Indeed.

3. Ponytails and braids.

4. Mermaids and fairies.

5. Tiaras and make-up.

6. Unicorns and glitter (!)

7. Watching small girls carry your purse around is too fun.

8. Playing house with babies.

9. Tea parties.

10. Every Sunday is like playing dress up with my three favorite dolls.

If you have girls, what are some of your favorite things? If you have boys, I'd love to hear the list you're keeping, too!

Attitude

This Sunday our guest speaker read a quote that ended with:

"Attitude is the librarian of our past, the speaker of our present, and the prophet of our future."

Don't you like that? At first I was just struck with the prophet part. It took me a minute to figure out the librarian part.

Librarian of the past -- To me, this means "the librarian" determines how we look those old circumstances, broken relationships, and painful times. "The librarian" picks out the books that shape our opinion of these things.

Speaker of the present -- The other day I was leaving Sam's Club and asked the clerk at the door how he was doing. This elderly man paused, gave me a smile, and said, "Oh . . . I'm just so glad to be here." Now, if a twenty-something had said that, I would have looked hard to see if he was being sarcastic, but this man was sincere. His response made me smile. His attitude spoke volumes.

Prophet of the future -- You probably know pretty much what I'm going to say here. You don't reach the stars by looking at the ground. Perspective of what things will be like, regardless of their current state, is invaluable.

Wanna know what I really like about this quote? I have a say in all this. If the librarian of my past is a grumpy, pitiful thing, I can fire her and hire someone cute and cheerful. If I don't like what the speaker of my present is saying, I can change the channel until I find someone who better represents who I want to be. And if the prophet of my future is tempted to predict gloom and doom, I can . . . I don't know, read the New Testament or something.

Because -- I am all these people. The attitude is up to me.

Do I love you because you're wonderful? Or are you wonderful because I love you?

Last week Jason took me to the symphony. The Wyoming Symphony Orchestra was playing at the college, and Jason had to go to a concert and write a paper for one of his music classes, so I got to tag along. And let me just say, it THRILLED. MY. SOUL. For many reasons that I'm sure you could guess, and for a few that maybe you wouldn't. But during intermission I turned to Jason and said, "Isn't it amazing how so many things could be going on at once? I think it's so great just to get a good melody, but who gets a melody and then hears all these other things going on in the background that will add to the overall effect?"

And just as I finished the question, I knew the truth of what Jason said next. He said, "I do."

Do you ever stand in awe of the privilege of not just knowing your husband but actually being the one who got to marry him?

Just one moment, please.

Do you know what I am doing right now?

Eating ice cream.

Let us bow our heads and have a moment of silence for ice cream.

...

Ah, yes. Extra creamy vanilla with some Hershey's chocolate perfected drizzled over the top. And it is even more enjoyable to me that I'm eating it now when the girls are asleep. Ice cream as a family affair is fun, but by yourself, it is indulgence. Like taking a bubble bath (and when was the last time you did that?)

Wait, let me take another bite.

Sigh.

I have rules about ice cream. Actually I'm just taking these right off the top of my head, but I think they're true just the same.

1. Never waste the calories on a flavor you don't REALLY enjoy. (When I find one I'll let you know...)

2. Always take just a little less than what you really want to eat. You'll feel self-controlled. Empowered, even. At the bottom of the bowl you will still want more, but you'll say to yourself, "Ahhh. That was just the right amount of ice cream."

3. Eat it when you can truly enjoy it. Maybe this is why I like to eat it when the girls are in bed. I have a desire to savor my desserts. Have you ever been at a restaurant with friends, and happened upon the most amazing dessert OF YOUR LIFE, but one particular individual just keeps talking and talking and talking? And you love them and all (truly, you are there for the friend, not the dessert) but you just want to say, "Will you excuse me for one moment while I soak in the luscious, smooth, and (probably) chocolatey-ness of this dessert?" Of course, you don't. You would never, ever say this. But occasionally after a good bite you think, "This dessert is slipping away from me!"

There. My ice cream is finished. My inspiration has been devoured, and therefore I have nothing left to say.

Uh, the rules were freebies.
You're welcome.

Vanity sale: $3-$30,000

*Here you go, Heather! :)


Yesterday I was driving alone in my car to Wal-Mart. The "alone" part of that sentence is rare enough, but I was also sporting a new haircut and a scarf Jason brought me from Israel. I was feeling pretty good. Pretty stylish. Even evniable, you might say.

I stopped at a red light and noticed a red convertible on the other side of the intersection. And it occurred to me that I didn't need one. I was pretty sure I felt just as amazing as that guy did in his costly car with just my $18 haircut. Or with just my $3 scarf.

Maybe that's a guy thing, I thought. Needing to spend lots of money to feel important, instead of just having a new hair style or a new accessory.

Until I drove past and saw that the driver was a woman.

The alphabet is overated, anyway.

I used to feel a little guilty when I thought of my two girls. When Natalie was a baby, she had my attention every moment that she was awake. As a toddler she said lots of words, could count to 10 in English and to 5 in Spanish, and could sing her ABC's.

When Natalie was almost three, Elsie was born. And it actually came as a shock to me that I could not devote the same kind of time to her as I had to her big sis. I'm not sure really what I my expectations were, but they were not grounded in reality. I couldn't read her 3 books and sing her ten songs before every nap -- like I had with Natalie -- because I had a three year old who also needed attention (and wouldn't stay out of the room that long, anyway). I could easily get to the end of a day and find that with keeping house, giving bathes, making dinner, and chasing Natalie, I hadn't read her a book at all, or counted to 10, or sang the alphabet song. Some days I felt good if I could just get everyone fed, clothed, and down for a nap.

As Elsie has reached toddlerhood, I've noticed that she hasn't hit all those "milestones" as quickly as Natalie, and it made me feel guilty. Surely this was my fault for not reading enough books, or talking to her enough, or trying to get her to crawl sooner.

But after lots of prayer I've realized that there has been an exchange on both sides. Elsie may not have as much one-on-one time, but she has way more family time, because Natalie and I are with her all day. She has an extra person to laugh at her funny faces, to give her kisses and "I love you's", and to help her. She always has a family member by her side when Jason and I leave to go on a date. She has positive peer pressure to use a napkin, or the toilet. When I'm making dinner, she still has someone to play with.

I was measuring my love and attention to her based upon what she was doing, instead of basing it on . . . well, what it actually was. And while Elsie may not have the same memories of mommy-daughter time that Natalie does, the overall message is the same: that she is loved.

If you are what you keep close...

On my nightstand there is:

- a picture of Jason and I at the altar on our wedding day, with my dad in the background (he had just given me away)

- my alarm clock

- a picture of my two sisters and me, taken about eight years ago

- a lamp

- a picture of my big sister and myself, taken about 26 years ago (Ruth, it's the one where I'm sticking my tongue out)

- whatever I'm currently reading (Destined to Reign, right now)


Occasionally there is a pen or two, some jewelry, and some hair ties, but the above items are consistent. The bottom shelf of my nightstand holds:

- two small packages of pictures, one of our vacation this summer, one of just the girls

- my Bible, notebook, and a copy of The Power of a Praying Wife

- a beautiful, leather bound book for writing my stories. Jason gave it to me.

- a notebook for writing cute little stories about the girls

- a notebook for writing . . . oh, mostly dreams I suppose, although some practical things go in there too. I don't know how to explain what this notebook is for, I only know when something does or does not belong in it. Actually, Jason gave me this one too, when we were courting.

- a pink notebook specifically for stories or articles. The first drafts. Only mostly perfected ones go in the leather bound book.

- a pen with my name engraved on the side (Jas got me this, too. Suddenly I'm thinking it's time for me to go buy him something...)

- a sudoku book

- the three stuffed animals Jason gave me when we were courting (two green bears and an elephant)

- a box full of index cards. At my baby shower for Elsie, my friends wrote encouraging words and tidbits of advice down for me. You don't even know how many times I've read through them.


And then UNDER my nightstand (because apparently I can't live without any of these things close at hand at all times) I have:

- Natalie's baby book and notes for all the things I'm going to put in Elsie's baby book

- a scrap book, and a pile of crayon drawings to put in it

- a tiny notebook that I used as for church notes and journaling in Bible College. I think I keep this one around because a.) it has extra pages, in case I need to make a list or something and just need a little piece of paper and b.) because it's my journal from Bible College! Ha! It's good to not be 18 again.

- two spiral notebooks that used to be Jason's, and that I've somehow (truly) by accident taken over. This is for rough drafts or stories that haven't shaped themselves as well as the ones that go in that pink notebook. I guess that one is more for second drafts...


I'm telling you all this because I was removing and replacing things on my nightstand to dust it the other day. I laughed at myself and thought, "What does all this stuff say about me?" That I still have pack rat tendencies? That I need to consolidate my notebooks? That this stuff has no other place to go?
And I was wondering if there are any souls out there brave enough to tell me: What is on your nightstand/bookshelf/floor by your bed?

Perspective

I remember the first time I realized how different my perspective of things could be from Jason's. We were married, but didn't have children yet. I told Jason one night in a very matter-of-fact tone that my children would never work in a place where they would not be surrounded by Christians. Jason immediately, strongly, disagreed. He won this argument, because he played a trump card I could not counter. Jason came to Jesus as a result of a girl he worked with at Arby's in high school.
"Her parents might not have been thrilled about her working there, but I'll bet you're glad she did!"

Uh, yes Honey.
I am.
Now if you'll excuse I need to go hide and repent for my narrow-minded ways.

Jason and I grew up very differently. Take Halloween for example. My sisters and I would dress up as angels or something, and go to our church party. Jason, on the other hand, dressed up like a vampire for several consecutive years. It makes for funny conversations.
So now we have children of our own. And while I have nothing against innocent costumes, getting bags of candy, or carving pumpkins, I have been very hesitant about Halloween. People in the grocery store used to ask Natalie what she would be for Halloween. Instead of commenting about how she likes to dress up like princesses, or even saying, "I don't know," I would say, "We don't really do Halloween."
Now Natalie is four, and old enough to speak for herself. For the first time, I thought it would be fun to carve a pumpkin this year. Natalie was thrilled. And all through the store she would tell any random passer-by, "We're getting a pumpkin for Halloween!" We'd walk away and I'd say, "We could just have the pumpkin for fall." But this was not satisfactory for Natalie.

I couldn't figure out how she knew the word, "Halloween." Then I remembered being at Jason's mom's house a few weeks earlier. We don't have cable, so when we are at Grandma's we take advantage of the opportunity for Saturday morning cartoons. And on the particular channel we like to watch, they were running Halloween episodes of all their shows. Mickey Mouse was ok, they mostly just walked around in costumes. But Handy Manny talked about how Hispanics celebrate, "Dia de la Muerte." I took enough high school Spanish to know what that meant.

"That's the 'day of the dead!'" I hissed to Jason. I think he said something like, "Chill out."

"I don't want her watching shows about dead people!"

"We celebrate memorial day. That's about dead people."

"But we don't call it 'The Day of the Dead!"

He convinced me to watch the rest of the show and see how it turned out. I guess it was ok. Dia de la Muerte was, for all intents and purposes of the Handy Manny show, really just about remembering loved ones lost. I wasn't thrilled about that store owner dressed up like a vampire, but he took out his teeth pretty early on, and then he didn't look scary.

I repeated this story to my friend, Becca. I told her that I didn't want to be the Christian mom that freaks out about Halloween and won't even let her kids call it by that name ("They're calling it a Harvest Fest, actually"), but that I wanted Natalie to know that some things weren't ok. But maybe I didn't want her to know that part of it yet. She's only four, after all. And what exactly do they need to know about Halloween at four? (No, really. I'm asking.)

She said that she wasn't going to be one to take her child out of school just because they were having a Halloween party. "I'll just be a volunteer at the party," she said. "And when we get home, we're gonna talk about it. And we're gonna talk about what was fun, and what we didn't like."

Ah, yes. Balance.

And conversation. Because really, when they're older and away from us one day, and see or hear something that doesn't reflect our values, I don't want my children to think, "There's no way I'm telling Mom and Dad about this. They would freak if they found out I was around this. I'd never get to go anywhere again."
I want them to be confident of our response when they come talk to us about it. I want to be the parents that calmly and openly talk about things without laying guilt trips on our kids. That can explain why we do things they way we do them, without preaching.

Balance. Such a novel idea, Jason. I knew I married you for more than your good looks.

I'm not 20 anymore, People.

When I had my birthday earlier this year, I was not afraid. After all, why do people make such a big deal about turning 30? It's just another number, right? It in no way has to define how you feel or act, or anything else. And besides, I was only turning 27, which is still a good three years away from 30.
But in the last few months, the qualms have hit. Not in a full blown-out mode, because that is not usually my style, but I definitely have my moments.

Because, my mom turned 30 right after I was born. And actually, my older sister was born when she was my age now.

Uh, stop the presses.

That means that my mother was once my age. I mean, I knew that, the way I know that Abraham Lincoln was the 16th president of the United States of America. But now, I know that. I know what 27 feels like. I know all the struggles, frustrations, escatsies, insecurities, happy tears, and "Golly Jeepers, shouldn't I know that by now?" feelings. And I just always thought Mom had it all together. I (hypothetically) knew that she made mistakes, but really, didn't she always know and do the right thing?
And just that fact that I know what it might have felt like to be mom at an age that I (sort of) knew her . . . well, I'm sure you understand.

And then there was the night last month when Jason and I went over to our friends' house to watch a movie late at night. Okay, so it was like 8:30-9 o'clock, but that's our bedtime, guys. Seriously, do we think we're teenagers or something? No, we most definitely did not, because even whilst driving to their house, we were remembering how they have that bunk bed down stairs that no one is using. And we made our plan: Put the girls to bed soon and spend the night. Because there was no way we were going to want to drive the 20 minutes back to our own beds. We would not make it.
What I did not plan on, was that "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" was going to leave me an emotional basket case. I must have forgotten that I can get that way past 11pm. BECAUSE IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE BEEN UP PARTYING PAST THEN. I lay in bed that night, tears rolling down my cheeks, because it would have so stunk to have been that lady, taking care of the man she loved as a baby that didn't know her, and didn't know that she had come back to take care of him because really, she did love him that much after all. (Excuse me, but is that not the most ridiculous reason to cry in the whole entire world?)

Then, this last Tuesday, I woke to the sound of Elsie crying. I started walking to the door through our pitch black room slowly, partly because it's a new house and I don't know my way that well in the dark yet, and partly because our room is not unpacked yet and there are boxes on the ground still. There was also a suitcase from our trip the day before that had not been unpacked. You can see where this is going. I was doing great and almost to the door, when mid-step I lost my balance. I fell down sideways and landed on a box, breaking it, and then proceeded to roll onto another small box, and then a wooden jewelry box. I could only lay there for the next 30 seconds because I hurt so much.
And although, really, this could have happened to anyone, of any age, it did seem to me that it shouldn't be happening to me at 27.

So there you go. Just some of the reasons why I must admit to myself that I am not 20 anymore. Then again, when I was 20 I once fell down in the shower, so maybe I never really was what 20 is.

Just thought I'd take a minute to say...

The likelyhood of my writing a "real" post this week will probably not happen. I try to post a least once a week, but, well, you see . . . we're moving tomorrow. Yep. Decided we were moving about . . . last Wednesday and we'll sleep there tomorrow night. Kinda crazy, I admit, but that's just sort of how the Benson family does these things!
Besides packing and unpacking this week, I will also be preparing a message to preach this Sunday. Not really sure how that one happened.
But my point is, I'll be a little busier than usual. Donations of prayer will be accepted. Or, as always, donations of money.

Thank you.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder . . .

Dear me. It has been entirely too long since my last post. Life has been busy. I'm not even sure what we've been busy with anymore, but . . . does it really matter?

However, in the time that I've been absent, I've been thinking that I really wanted to share the events of one particular day. Natalie was really on it that day, as far as humor goes. All in one day:

-- She asked, "Mommy, if you ever can't take care of Elsie, can we take her to an orphanage?" She didn't ask it maliciously; she asked it like she would ask about going to daycare or preschool. Apparently, in my attempts to shield her from some harsher facts of life, I didn't make things quite clear when I explained to her why our friends were going to Africa to adopt their little boy.

I seriously didn't know what to say to her for a while, so I finally said, "No. We're never taking Elsie to an orphanage. She's part of our family. I'm never going to not be able to take care of her." (When she starts asking what an orphanage is like, Heidi, I'm sending her to you!)

--Jason called to say hi, and Natalie told him, "I haven't done anything wrong today."

-- Shortly after this, she started playing house. She was the dad, and I was the kid.

"Dad": I have to go to work, Kid.

"Kid": No, Daddy. Don't go to work. I don't want you to go to work.

"Dad": I know. But I have to. I'll come home soon.

"Kid": No, don't go!

"Dad": Kid, I have to. Or else I will lose my job and they will throw me in the fire.

She said this with the straightest, most serious face! Maybe we should explain the term "fired" to her. She's probably picturing a little Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednigo action going on!

When things don't work quite right

Why is it that Jason's computer will save my settings or passwords when I ask it to but, despite the repeated requests I've made of my computer, I still have to sign in to EVERYTHING?

Why is it that Jason can instantly make computers work/cameras work/coffee grinders open when I've been trying the same things for 10 minute intervals all day long?

And did you know that if you're using T9 to text on your cell phone and you try to type "home" it will come up as "good?" Or if you try to say that you're dreaming of your husband's "kiss," it will tell him that you are dreaming of his "lips?" And if you punch in "mom" it will give you "non." If you get stubburn and type it again ("mommom") in a desperate attempt to make your phone get it right, it will give you "nonmom."
Because that's a word.



I'm just sayin'.

"Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control."

I read a blog not long ago on exercising. The blogger had read an article that basically said that people who exercise aren't necessarily healthier, because they think that exercising gives them license to eat whatever they want, in whatever portion they want. I was glad that wasn't me.
Until I realized it was.

And then this morning when I was working out I thought, "I am working TOO HARD to not eat better." Really, it's true. When I'm done exercising, the way I look could hardly be described as "glistening." You don't want more details.
And yet, didn't I eat two brownies last night? At someone else's house? That made me a little sick this morning. I justified it by not eating ice cream. And because the brownies were gluten-free (you were right, Hannah). And because I don't eat this stuff at home (because I don't buy it for us). But I'll eat it at everyone else's house!

And when I was thinking about blogging this (gotta keep your mind going when you're exercising) I thought of a spiritual correlation. Because really, doesn't everything involving food have a spiritual correlation? And I wondered if I was short-circuiting myself spiritually the way I was short-circuiting myself physically.
Was I:

-Eating the good stuff? This can get tricky, even as a stay-at-home mom, because I feel like I have so many priorities. Being physically healthy is a priority, cleaning my house is a priority, spending real time with my kids (not just being in the same room) is a priority. And I have other priorities that I won't list because I don't do them on a regular basis and I don't want to depress myself by listing them all. But man, if I want God, then He has to be a priority. I want to devour His Word and His presence, even if it means I'm only alone (read: without kids) with Him for five minutes. God would fill me in five minutes if I gave it to Him.

-Eating regularly? It is fascinating to me that for people wanting to lose large amounts of weight, eating at regular intervals is recommended. And I don't just mean you're not supposed to skip breakfast. Dietitians will actually recommend eating at least two small snacks during the day in addition to the three regular meals. There's nothing like being consistent.

-Laying off the junk food? Not everything can be a priority in every season of my life. This is hard for me to swallow sometimes, but if I tried to make everything I want to do a priority every day I wouldn't do it all anyway, and I would do nothing well. Just like every bite of food should count (or at least that's what they tell you when you're pregnant), the things I do each day should count.

Well, thanks for letting me get my thoughts straightened out here. It was really meant to help me more than to preach at you.

Ah, man. I just found a two for one coupon for Coldstone Creamery in my purse. Maybe . . . just one last time?

How my children help me accomplish my goals.

Dearest Elsie,
Thank you for your help today, Sweetheart. I would have never gotten so much done this morning without you.
I really wanted to get up at 6 today, but I was too tired. But you got up shortly after I hit the snooze button -- you are such a good motivator. But even then, I tried to put you in bed with me so we could sleep. I meant to only lie there until you nodded off, but I think I must have nodded off first. Or maybe you didn't go to sleep at all. I will never know.
But I was wide awake when I smelled the all-too-familiar-sweetly-pungent-diaper smell. And when I looked at your beautiful smile, and noticed traces of diaper mess on your face, hair, and arms I was still more awake. Way to get me out of bed fast, Baby.
And thank you for the cleaning reminder. I had actually already washed my sheets this week, but you are right: they can never be too clean.
How did you know I wanted to give you girls baths today, Little Elsie? I was thinking of doing it tonight, but there is no time like the present. Now you, your sister, and I can spend this evening playing games instead of taking baths.
And the bathroom -- I also wanted to clean the bathroom today. You gave me such good incentive for getting it done right away this morning, Honey. That bathtub needed a good scrubbing.
I've been meaning to mop the floors. If you hadn't have smeared the contents of your diaper on your pajama pants AND shirt, and I hadn't have taken them off in the bathroom, I would have never thought of mopping the floor before I was dressed.
So thank you, Sweetie. Who would have thought that I would have help cleaning the house from my 14 month old? You knew all the right things to do.
I love you,
Mommy

What is this post about, anyway?

You know what's hard about blogging? What's hard is, I get blog ideas ALL the time. But of course, I'm not in a situation to be blogging at any and all times and so the ideas have to wait. Sigh. And sometimes they wait some more. And then I have trouble remembering what I was really going to say and how I was going to say it and why it was a cool idea for a blog post in the first place.

By the way, wasn't I going to put vacation pictures up here sometime?
Maybe later.
When I remember all the stuff I was going to say.
Maybe I should start putting this stuff down in that little notebook I keep in my purse (note to Hannah: If you don't carry a tiny notebook, you really should. You are the kind of person who would use and greatly benefit from one. These days, my notebook mostly serves as a distraction for little fingers).

So, Saturday I got a date, and there was much rejoicing. We went to see "Julie & Julia", which was really nice of Jason since he wanted to see G.I. Joe. But, being the fantastic husband he is, and knowing that I would get no enjoyment out of Mr. Joe, he agreed to enthusiastically watch yet another chick flick with me. Jason is very good at that.

"Julie & Julia" had a lot for me to appreciate. There's the cooking side, of course. I don't claim to be a great cook, but I do aspire to prepare many sorts of recipes -- and some turn out better than others. However, I will say that I think I've been doing a lot more of the better sort in recent years (and I think Jason would agree). Cooking is something that Jason and I both enjoy, so it was fun to see a movie about that.

Then there was the writing side. I felt like my emotions went up and down with the prospects of both of these women's writing endeavors. I was so happy when Julia opened the copy of her cookbook, even though I knew it was going to happen for her -- being Julia Child, and all.

But you know what I think really made me like this movie? I think it was the fact that in this movie there were two married couples who really loved each other. Neither wife was a demeaning, nagging freak, and neither husband was a slovenly, snide couch potato. Instead, I saw wives who looked at their husbands adoringly. They knew that whatever person they became in the end was shaped largely by their man. I watched husbands who loved their wives in spite of/because of their quirks. Husbands that listened, and talked their wives through problems, and motivated them to keep going. I watched a husband comfort his crying wife; and a wife who recognized that she could never appreciate her husband enough, but she could stop taking him for granted.

And so, Jason and I left the theater with our emotions swimming around our lungs. We went home and cleaned up feeling quite satisfied with loving each other. I sang jazzy tunes that have never before been written. And we smiled as we remembered our dinner. We were going to grab a burger after the movie, but somehow that just didn't seem right. So we ended up at an Italian restaurant instead. And we savored every bite.

Cracks me up everytime I read it...

This post is from the blog of my cousin's wife. If you need a laugh, read on!

My thoughts at 7:00 this morning after not seeing my children for 4 days...
I have the cutest kids in the whole world.
How do I ever get irritated with them constantly talking to me? They have the sweetest little voices I've ever heard.
Well of course Rylan is whining and crying for an hour. The poor, sweet, helpless baby stubbed his toe. What else is he to do?
Isn't it fun to see the boys interacting? Sure, they get annoyed with each other but it's just because they love each other so much.

My thoughts 5 hours later...
I have the cutest kids in the whole world.
Wow, they really do talk to me c-o-n-s-t-a-n-t-l-y. I mean, that's OK, but WOW I have a bad, bad, bad headache right now.
Seriously, Rylan. Stop whining. I can't wait to put you down for a nap, sweet child.
I think I'll split the big boys up for the next couple of hours so they can't find anything else to argue over.