Jun 5, 2013
The Fedex Man and I talked often over the next few months, through Myspace and Messenger (again, we were the coolest of kids/Pygmy adults). One day the Fedex Man hoped in the Drummers car and made the hours long trip to see...me. *gasp*
Now, there are a few ways this could have gone. And even less options end well.
Fedex Man was nervous.
The Drummer and the Hopeful friend were excited that, if this indeed worked out, that it was all because of them.
Me, well I was nervous too.
We met at a coffee shop. My first glimpse of those to guys were of them turning right in front of us onto a one way street...I'm not sure if they realized or not. Those cool guys in their converse and band shirts were a little to shaky to pay attention to things like flow of traffic.
The Fedex Man said very few words that day. But it didn't matter. I had fallen in love with him even before I met him, before I had even seen his face.
It was a whirlwind weekend of getting to know each other, meeting parents and weddings (not any of ours, but well intending guys looking to score points may or may not do pretty much anything...like going to a total strangers wedding)
Two weeks later the Fedex Man came back all by himself.
And kept coming back most weekends after that.
Six months later he asked me to marry him.
One year later, I did.
Oh, and the Dear Friend and The Drummer...
The were married one year later,
and just happen to live a few minutes away.
(I would say "The End" but really, that was only the beginning)
And Elvis, I don't really know what became of him.
May 27, 2013
We are spending the weekend on my old turf (a.k.a. my parents house). It reminds me of a story.
The summer of 2006 I was 18 years old, had been out of college for a year and had just started an internship at a local private school. One of my dear friends got married that summer, and as most 18 year olds, this made me sulk in my singleness.
After all, 18 is ancient and I was practically a spinster.
The summer was fun, I laughed my way through with a relatively new friend (whom I had met in college) and watched as she made some of the biggest (and most hilarious) boy decisions of her life. You see, there were two boys.
One was a young Drummer.
The other was an Elvis impersonator.
She asked me to go with her on a date of sorts...Elvis had asked her to the movies...with his parents. My dear friend was a little weirded out by this, but agreed. Shes a good sort of person who doesn't let things like profession or parents get in the way of love. Dear Elvis tried hard, bless his soul, and so did his parents.
My dear friend was in, and they were no doubt planning her roll in their Elvis family show (did I not mention that he did not impersonate by himself? Oh no, it was a family show put on by himself, his mom and his dad! All of whom played Elvis). She has dark hair, it was a given. She needed to be Elvis number 4 and they would more than likely live happily ever after and have children that strangely resembled Eddie Monster.
While we were at the theater, the drummer had called.
I had yet to meet the drummer. He was from a far away place and I rarely left my hometown unlike my slightly older more adventurous friend. It didn't matter, I picked him.
She listened to his message, he was sweet and shy, and just wondering how she was doing.
I like him better.
Perhaps I pushed more than I should, but I pushed for the Drummer. Its seemed more logical and was little afraid of the Eddie Monster children.
We continued to see Elvis perform in the parks, and she continued to travel to far away places to see the drummer. Eventually, however, the drummer began to win and my dear friend had to break Elvis' heart. The drummer had won and we all rejoiced. But...Elvis was a nice guy and no one wanted to let him (or his parents) down.
Still, it had to be done.
(Dear Elvis, if you ever read this, please know that much fun, laughter and dance was had that summer. You really did impact my life. I hope that you have found happiness with another dark haired girl who can sing. You see, I love my dear friend, but she does not play any interment and can barely carry a tune. It would never have worked. Its better that you didn't have to find this out the hard way)
One weekend in late July, my dear friend went once again to that far away place to visit the Drummer. The Drummer had a friend, whom we shall name the Fedex Guy, who was turning ancient and a half and she thought it would be great to get him a gag gift. Before she left, I spent the day with her looking for the best gag gift ever. Something no ancient and a half-er could live without. This, of course, was a small toy catapult that shot little plastic cats (or was it pigs) through the air.
We went for practical.
Now, way back in 2006, I still had a Myspace. That's what the cool kids did.
I stocked the Fedex guy to get a reaction on the gift. Looking for a status update (alright, I don't remember what Myspace called them) proclaiming how awesomely witty my dear friend was. And, you know, perhaps a mention of me.
I couldn't wait (he was an incredibly slow poster you see, and I didn't have time for such things since I was an ancient spinster) so I warned him that something hilarious was about to happen to him and that he would be knocked of his feet by our wit and charm.
I'm pretty sure he was thinking "Who is this girl and why is she so weird?" but he was nice and never said that. He talked to me instead.
I don't think he found the gift at all funny, but he continued to talk to me.
The dear friend and the Drummer fell in love. It happens sometimes.
And not to ruin the end of the story...but they are still together today, and I am pretty sure they still love each other too!
To Be Continued...
May 2, 2013
Its been three months since this little one joined us in the outside world. We still love her and we still plan on keeping her (I kid people, I kid! of course we are keeping her!)
The truth is, I am head over heals about this little lady.
At three months she is:
-talking more than ever, we are talking full conversations here people. And you had better listen!
-starting to sit up
-rolling over, both ways
- laughing (So precious)
- is very ticklish!
- weighs a little under 15 lbs.
-is 25 inches long
-slightly addicted to her paci
At three months we are:
-still bed sharing
-wondering where all the hours in the day go.
Apr 18, 2013
Welcome to the April 2013 Natural Living Blog Carnival: Natural Kids. This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Natural Living Blog Carnival hosted by Happy Mothering and The Pistachio Project through the Green Moms Network. This month our carnival participants have written posts about how they communicate with their children about natural living and how they implement those changes with their kids.
I laughed a little when I saw the topic of this months blog carnival, "communicating with out children about natural living...", because this definitely isn't the easiest in our house! One of the biggest changes for us over the last few years has been our food consumption, preparation and origin. Our food is first priority in our living green venture, and it something my husband and I whole heartedly agree on.
My son, on the other hand, is like most little kids who would rather eat all those (non)foods in pretty packaging shamelessly geared towards children in grocery stores. We don't buy these of course, but not without much prompting on his part. He also seems to hate all things green, and so we do the usual of hiding spinach in smoothies etc...
The key to our green eating lifestyle has boiled down to one simple thing in our family: involvement.
If I want my son to eat it, that means he has to help me make it!
My son absolutely loves to learn the mechanics of things, so naturally cooking is right up his alley. His involvement is key if I want him to try something I know that otherwise he would never touch.
I love to cook with my son (and feel very strongly about the importance of cooking with your children, but more on that later) and it is something we can share together. In the mean time I get to teach my child about food, real food. How it feeds our bodies and how we can use it to keep us healthy and lively. He also learns where food comes from, what it takes to grow and harvest it and how vastly different real food is from those shiny and colorful boxes in the grocery store.
Before my days of being a mama and a wife, I taught a culinary class to grade school students and high school students alike. It boggled my mind how little they knew of what they put in their mouths, simply because they were never taught! I vowed then that my children would know about their food, and know how to eat healthy.
And so, we cook.
I thought I'd share one of our go to snack recipes, one my son loves a lot.
Whole Wheat Parmesan Crackers
what you will need:
3 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 shredded Parmesan cheese
3/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup almond milk
salt and pepper
Combine flour, salt, pepper and cheese in a bowl, mix well. Add oil and mix until it resembles sand then begin to add milk. Only add enough milk for it to stick together.
Let sit for 30 minutes.
Section into 4 pieces and roll out until a 1/4 inch thick.
cut into squares and place on baking sheet (I use my stone).
sprinkle with salt.
Bake for 20 minutes at 350 degrees.
These crackers will keep for about a week at room temp. They are hardy, so you don't need to eat very many...but that does mean you won't. Enjoy!
—–Visit Happy Mothering and The Pistachio Project to learn more about participating in next month’s Natural Living Blog Carnival! Please take some time to enjoy the posts our other carnival participants have contributed:
Apr 16, 2013
Something we cherish in other people, hope to instill in our children...and struggle with ourselves.
Especially when it shows our weaknesses.
(Who ever taught us that weakness was always a bad thing?)
I'm going to be honest now...and its not particularly easy for me to write...
Over the past few months I have been struggling to keep my head above water. Trying to be everything for all the people I love. Trying to meet their every need. Wanting to surpass expectations and never leave anyone wanting. Especially my family.
Ya..guess how that worked out.
I was never enough. I never had enough energy, hands, time, endurance, compassion or will to make everyone happy. This has saddened me. I wanted to be enough. It was what I was suppose to want...supposed to need...right?
I became tired. Exhausted even.
While still dealing with my body trying to remember how to function without a baby inside and the extra and more difficult things that introducing a new little one to our family allowed, I began to crumble.
Every day felt like a failure.
I always had a long list of things I just had to get done and I would be lucky to get to one of them.
I could see my son feeding of my defeat, every day he became a little more sad. It took a while to realize that it was because he saw the same thing in me.
To me, that was a blow. Seeing my shear desire to help my family in turn hurt my family because it was hurting me.
There have been a whole lot of crazy in our lives lately. A whole lot of hurry up and wait. A whole lot of God saying "Wait and see". Jon and I are possible the worst possible humans at handling that answer...which is likely why we get it a lot! With it, though, comes great opportunity for the devil to have a hay day with us, he was becoming somewhat successful. Jon's health problems flared up again, he was depressed and feeling hopeless. My sons attitude was out of control. And me...well I wasn't enough.
It sounds small.
But most women will admit that its probably the biggest issue they deal with every day.
But then God...
(oh, you know its about to get good when you hear those words, right!)
Showed us what was happening, and we began drawing closer to Him as a result.
The darkness began to slip away...but not without a fight.
Jon started feeling great, Little Mister began to adjust, happily, to his new life.
I was ecstatic for my family, but still so critical on myself.
It must have all been my fault....right?
This last Sunday, one of our missionaries at church felt led to tell the congregation a story before they left to go back to their mission field this week. She rarely shares in front of crowds and to many it might have been a fumbling and awkward story. She told of her struggle in keeping her children safe, taking care of them...being enough. She spoke of how her family had been so oppressed since they had returned to the states and her trying to fix it. Then one day God used her daughter to speak to her...a story of a "saver" bird who cared for them and kept them safe and whole.
"The 'savor' bird can take care of us better than you can, I think" she told her mom.
At that moment, while sitting in church, God layed upon my heart the same thing that I'm sure He layed upon that woman's heart.
You are not enough, and that is okay, you were never intended to be.
Your right God.
It wouldn't make sense for be to be able to fulfill all my family's needs, would it.
I was trying to be everything, and it turn I wasn't leaving much room for God to work.
I cried that day. Most people probably thought it was because of that woman's story, but I knew it was because of what I had finally taken the time to hear God say.
I can't be everything for my husband.
I can't be everything for my son.
I can't be everything for my daughter.
I can't be everything for anyone,
not even myself.
But that is not a weakness at all, it is an oppurtunity to truely be whole.
We do need other people, and we most certainly need Christ.
It is not a license to give up, its a license to try hard with understanding and the grace to fail.
I am not enough.
And that is perfectly okay, I was never intended to be.
My family can only be whole through Christ.
Yesterday my son brought me two beautiful, though slightly dead, flowers...
and he told me he loved me.
I may have cried again.
He never knew what mama had felt, but he loved me anyway.
I am his mama who loves him more that I ever knew I could.
And that is who I am intended to be.
Those flowers were broken and imperfect, but I cherished them because they came from a place of love.
Just like our lives together.
Apr 10, 2013
The night before last, around 1:30 a.m., I heard the pitter patter of little feet (or rather the heavy thump, thump, thump as my son is not knows for his...ah...quietness). My son likes his space, he is not often a cuddler, and usually only comes to our room after a bad dream or the like.
I asked him what the matter was.
He simply shrugged his shoulders and climbed into bed with us.
He just wanted to snuggle.
I lay there, unable to sleep, because that's what happens to me when I wake up at 1:30 in the morning, and smile.
My big baby on one side, my little baby on the other, my husband close.
I could hear all of them breathing sleepily.
This is my life, and I do love it.
In moments of quiet I have time to appreciate it.
And one thing stood out to me.
If we ever add to this beautiful picture...
we are going to need a bigger bed!