Tag: husband

Orchestrated.

I’m still coming back down to normal from last week, but as I continue to look back, I am simply in awe of how God provides for us. It’s not my medical story to tell, but I can’t help but praise Him for how it all played out. It was so very obviously orchestrated that I can’t help but get chills every time I talk about it.

Basically, my mom got really sick two Sunday ago, but we thought it was strep and we would go to the ER to get some antibiotics and be on our way. Through a series of things and people and decisions that were obviously put there by God, a scary diagnosis and a stay at the hospital in Lexington happened exactly the way they were supposed to. An ER doctor who happen to know that her voice sounded a certain way and ordered a CT scan. The same ER doctor who was humble enough to know that he couldn’t treat her and she needed a specialist. Sweet nurses, jovial EMTs who lightened the otherwise very dark mood and ambulance ride to Lexington. A room at UKs ER when so many others lined the hallways. The fact that pediatric ENT was on rotation that weekend and my mom ended up seeing the same doctor who did our daughter’s ear tubes. A nurse who fell in love with my momma and claimed her as her own since she didn’t have a good relationship with her own parents, and who even asked if it was okay to hug her as her shift ended. You all, the situation was scary, but I FULLY believe it happened exactly the way it was supposed to. God was watching out for my momma and working it out in the best way with every step.

I had a realization after all of this was over – I just kept thinking about how bad it could have been if this decision hadn’t been made or that person hadn’t been there at that time… and I realized why God allows us to think of the what-ifs. So often, my what-ifs spiral me into anxiety. I so often think about all the bad things that could happen and spend my time worrying about every possible outcome. But God taught me such a beautiful lesson through this whole ordeal – sometimes the what-ifs allow us to see God working. If mom had made a different decision, we might not have seen that doctor who knew what to look for, we might have not met people we were supposed to, we might have caught it too late, honestly, the outcome could have been really bad. In times like these, I now understand why we have the ability to think of the what-ifs, because it makes us realize what all God has done for us, and how He’s working even when we don’t see it.

My sweet people.

Also, I need to talk about my absolute gem of a husband. While I was off at the hospital, he held down the fort. He did the bedtime things, made meals, took sweet girl to VBS, took her to her ENT appointment (literally the day mom was admitted, sweet girl had an ear tube checkup AT THE SAME HOSPITAL), brought me fresh clothes and coffee, did the dishes, and all the parenting things. He was wonderful. The picture in the post is when we were leaving the hospital after I had been up for almost 48 hours straight and after sweet girl’s ear tube appointment. My sister had come to stay with mom and these favorite people of mine came to get me for some lunch and a nap. Those few days were rough and scary and exhausting, but I had my people and my God with me every step of the way. I’m glad it’s over and we’re getting back to normal. And it’s weird, but all I am able to feel about it is thankfulness.

Hello again.

Um, hi. It’s been a really long time since I made a post. Like, almost three months. I’ve not really had anything to say. I’ve been claiming to be “busy,” but now that I think about it, that’s not really true. Work is pretty slow and I’m in “catch up on background work mode,” which most days actually looks like “it’s nothing too urgent so I’ll play with my daughter instead mode.” I’ve been trying to just be more present, to keep my priorities straight, to put people before stuff, to live in the moment. But I’ve also not been going to the Word every day and as much I try not to base the quality of my faith on quantity of time in the word, I can’t help feeling guilty. I feel like if I’m going to be speaking to you on matters of faith, mine should probably be pretty solid. But honestly, my faith is a little shaky right now and it is all my fault. And I know it. So, I’ve felt like I didn’t “deserve” to come to you all. I know that’s not good either. I know I should lean on my friends and family in Christ during times like these. We all struggle. I know. I’ve told other people the exact same spiel. Uuuggghh. Accountability is hard. And I literally said to my husband the other night that I feel like exactly zero people care about what I have to say. Why would they? I’m just me. But then the very next day, God gently reminded me through someone I don’t even know that no matter how many people He puts in front of me, whether it’s thousands or just a handful, they are my calling. And so I must be obedient.

Anyway, even though the last few months haven’t necessarily been that busy, they’ve been hard. My husband had an especially frustrating and mentally exhausting time at work for a few weeks in there. I’ve been trying to be there for him, to be supportive. Something has to change. You all, we both feel like we’re supposed to work together. I know I’ve talked about this before, but it feels like it’s right around the corner. We’re both dragging our feet about it because we’re both a little scared, and we haven’t really gone to God about it together like I feel like we should. Pray for us, y’all. Change, even change that I want, absolutely terrifies me. All I know is that we both want to put family first, and the way things are right now, that makes it so hard to do. I’m so exhausted from feeling guilty about who is going to get the best of me on any given day. I feel like someone, whether it’s my husband or my daughter or my mom or my bosses or my friends or other family, always gets “end-of-my-rope stretched-too-thin” me. And that’s not fair to anyone. I feel like I’m in survival mode.

My husband and I went to a concert to celebrate our anniversary a couple of weeks ago. We drove to Florence, KY and stayed at the hotel where we stayed on our wedding night. (Neither of us really remembered the hotel very much even when we got there, haha. We were so tired on our wedding night and had to be at the airport the next day. It was all a blur.) We made a dinner reservation at The Melting Pot because we used to celebrate there all the time, but our local one closed. We had a wonderful fondue dinner and dessert, and I drank coffee after dinner because the opening act at the concert wasn’t going to start until 8 PM and mama had to stay awake. We drove to the venue and when we entered they were very strict about checking IDs and vaccination cards. That made me feel better. But, it wasn’t a socially distanced show, so the seats were full. I told my husband I was glad that we didn’t get lower arena seats, because they were all first come first serve and everyone was crowded around the stage. Luckily, two seats were empty in our row, so we got an empty seat on each side of us. But there were people directly behind and in front of us. I was a bit overwhelmed. I hadn’t been in a crowd like that for probably over two years. The only thing that made me feel better was that it was an amphitheater, so we had [a tiny bit of] fresh air blowing through the whole time. But it was such a good show. If you’ve never heard of Nathaniel Rateliff and The Night Sweats, look them up. It’s such a unique, vintage sound. And they put on a great show that was only the slightest bit rowdy, haha. We were pooped when we made it back to the hotel. The next morning we ate breakfast, checked out, then spent the afternoon at IKEA. We bought way more than we went for, but oh well… I got to eat Swedish meatballs.

On the way home I was talking to my husband about how much I appreciate these trips. This is the third little getaway that we’ve been able to have over the last year with just the two of us and I’m so thankful that we are blessed to be able to do so. We were walking through IKEA and I kept saying how much I missed our daughter. The same kid who the day before had me smiling through gritted teeth so that I wouldn’t lose my cool, I was missing terribly after less than 24 hours. These resets are so good for my soul. The time (truly) alone with my husband is so good for our relationship, not only as husband and wife, but also as friends. The time away from my daughter gets me out of the everyday and gives me perspective. The break in the monotony (as much as I actually like monotony) nourishes my body more than you can imagine. Just being somewhere different, seeing different places, even just for a day, is so refreshing to me. I love exploring with my husband – it’s one of my absolute favorite things. By myself? Not so much. At some point, traffic was terrible (if you live in Cincinnati or have visited, like, ever, you know that they are always working on the road somewhere), he looked at me and asked, “You up for an adventure?” He likes to find back ways to get where we’re going and sometimes they work and sometimes we get lost for a while. I smiled at him and said, “Will you be there?” He said, “Well, of course,” and I said, “Always.” I will always be down for an adventure with that man. ❤


As much as I love these trips, and as good as they are for my soul, I had a thought today. Sure, road trips, time away, concerts, good food, they can make me feel better for a while. But where do I turn when I’m in the trenches of everyday life? How do I fill my cup when I’m tired, when I’ve fought with my toddler all day, when the laundry hasn’t been folded and put away for longer than I care to admit? How do I get refreshed when there’s no getaway or vacation? God is there. He’s there all the time. His promises to me are the same as they were that day while I was riding in the car with my husband, and the same as they will be tomorrow as I’m filling up the dishwasher. God’s love for me is there. God’s peace is given to me freely every single day. God’s refuge and renewal is available to me every single second of my life. You all, do we really grasp that? I don’t think we do, or we wouldn’t strive so hard for “the next thing.” Life is hard enough as it is. Why do we insist on making it harder by trying to do things on our own?

Y’all, let’s be so incredibly thankful for the small (and big things) in this life that give our bodies and minds a reset, but let’s be infinitely more grateful for the One who can give our souls a supernatural peace and rest. Without Him, we are absolutely nothing.

When I thought, “My foot slips,” your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up. When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul.

Psalm 94:18+19

Still blessed.

I wrote this Friday, mostly so that I could look back and remember this chaos. But, I’m sure we’re not the only ones going through craziness, so hopefully this makes someone else feel a little less like life is attacking just them.
It has been A DAY. I knew I was going to have to take our puppy to the vet today, so I gave him a bath this morning. That’s always an event because he really hates it. My bathroom and I were completely soaked by the end of it. No big deal, I expected it. I took him to the vet, which is all still very no contact and my phone kept doing weird things when they tried to call me about him. But, he did good and we went and picked up my lunch from one of my favorite local restaurants and headed home. He was kind of upset and threw up in the car on the way home… not on the towel I had put down for him in the passenger seat. He laid his head over the console and puked right between it and the driver’s seat. I got home and tried to clean it, but I absolutely cannot reach it. My daughter wasn’t laying down for nap like she was supposed to be when I got home. She was procrastinating and being extra difficult. She had a meltdown over something ridiculous and this stubborn mama was not about to let her win that fight, so it escalated pretty quickly and before you know it we’re screaming at each other… (she is so much like me it’s scary sometimes, so we butt heads a lot.) Anyway, that happened. When she finally got to sleep, I calmed down, read some scripture, and decided that the first half of my day would not dictate the rest of it. When she woke up she was much more pleasant, and we ended up going to a small birthday gathering for some family. She had fun. When we got home, I was going to show my husband the dog puke in the car, and he told me that the garage door broke and wouldn’t go down. He looked at what was wrong with it and decided to tackle it after dinner. We went in and I started chopping garlic for our famous filet and brown butter (I don’t want to talk about how much my husband paid for steak the other day. We HAVE to eat it.) I was halfway through chopping the second clove when he looked at me and said, “We don’t have any salted butter.” Okay, plan B. We would have steak frites instead. He pulled out the brand new bag of potatoes that had never been opened… they were gross. Okay, plan C – we’re eating out. So, he put in a mobile order at Texas Roadhouse and went to pick it up. While he was gone, I let the dog out and he ran around the house. I went after him, because he’s notorious for pooping in the neighbors’ yard and finding the stinkiest thing he can find and rolling in it. My daughter came running out the front door and I yelled at her to go put some shoes on if she was coming outside. I go around to the dog, and after a few minutes I wondered where my daughter was. Just then, she came around the house barefoot screaming because she couldn’t find me. I decided to just let the whole “no shoes” thing slide, I was over arguing for the day. We have a few potted herbs out back and they looked kind of sad, so I offered to let her help water them. I got the hose and we sprayed them down, and the dog tried to eat the water, so he was soaked. I went to turn off the water and roll up the hose and I noticed a wasp on the hose reel. I backed up and waited a minute until I didn’t see it anymore, then went over and turned off the water. As I started to roll up the hose, the wasp flew at me and bumped into my arm. I started freaking out (I know… the opposite of what you’re supposed to do.) My daughter came over to see what was going on and that wasp stung her on the arm. So I’m holding a hysterical three year old trying to wrangle a wet puppy into the house. We finally made it in and we washed the sting and then put ice on it. She was a trooper, and I was so proud of how she handled it. Dinner was delicious and ended up being kind of like a special treat since we don’t eat that kind of thing all the time. After we got our daughter in bed, I went outside with my husband and offered moral support while he fixed the garage door (I tried to actually help at one point, but my arms are about as strong as a wet noodle, so I was no help.) We came in at like 10 PM just absolutely exhausted from the day. Now I’m drinking some sleepy time tea listening to him play on the acoustic guitar and all I can think of is how blessed we are.
Yes, today was crazy and exhausting and a ton of stuff went wrong. But you know what? A ton of stuff went right, too. Our dog is healthy and has had his first round of vaccinations. I had a really delicious lunch. Our daughter is healthy and growing and becoming her own person. We have a great, reliable car that gets us where we need to go. The dog puke didn’t really smell bad, haha 😆. My daughter and I got to spend some time with family we haven’t seen in so long. We had a delicious dinner and were blessed enough to have the money to buy it. My husband is a genius and knows how to fix garage doors, so we didn’t have to call someone and have them come out. So many blessings sprouted from all the craziness.


There were so many days, weeks, months last year that I longed for these kinds of things to be the only sort of thing I had to worry about. In the midst of despair, mourning, and helplessness, dog puke would have seemed like a minor inconvenience – nothing at all. And that’s kind of been my point of view today. It’s alright. God is still good. We are still infinitely blessed.

Inspired.

I’ve been feeling the urge to try and do some creative, artsy things lately. Being inspired by others is definitely something I didn’t expect to happen [because I’m generally uninspired, not because there isn’t an abundance of super inspirational people out there], but it’s what’s been the driving force of my creativity these days. Granted, almost all of this creativity is alleged, because it’s still in my head at the moment. I need a kick in the rear to motivate me to do just about anything.

I love Instagram mostly for one reason: I can control what I see. I only follow accounts that are going to inspire and uplift me, and I pass on everything else. I follow a lot of food-related accounts: chefs, restaurants, home bakers, and people who, like me, just like to eat food. Is being a patron of the culinary arts a thing? If so, I totally am. I also follow a lot of people who love what they do, and I’m so inspired by that. I want to love what I do and use it for the glory of God. I want to use my gifts in new, scary ways. (By the way, this is right now, sudden burst of creativity me speaking. In probably exactly ten minutes I will be utterly terrified by what I just typed out.) I want to create beautiful things and inspire others to do the same.

When I became a mom almost three years ago (!) I struggled with identity. I was so engrossed in breastfeeding and changing diapers and listening to every sound and watching every breath, that I literally could not remember who I was or what I liked to do. I would lay on the couch at night after baby girl was in bed and just stare. I wanted to do something, but nothing sounded enjoyable. Looking back, I think I probably had a bit of PPD going on, but at the time it was just how it was. I remember having a breakthrough moment where it just clicked that I needed to seek out who I was in Christ first, and that the rest would come later. That helped so much. Putting my focus back on God was how I eventually felt like myself again. Well, sort of myself. Bits of my old self came back and mixed with my new motherhood and made me into who I am today. Life is so weird. And beautiful.

When I was in high school and college, I made a lot of collages and did a lot of scrapbooking. I loved it. I know those activities probably date me, but I truly did enjoy it. To this day, the [small] graphic design element of my job is my favorite part. I always say I just “know what looks good and what doesn’t” Never having gone to school for any of that (French major over here…🙋‍♀️), I couldn’t even begin to explain even the basics of design. I know the rule of thirds, but that’s about it. That’s a thing, right?

Anyway, the other night, I just had the strongest urge to draw. I haven’t drawn anything in like, two decades probably. I don’t have a sketch pad, and it was like 10:30 PM and I didn’t want to go digging around in my desk for some paper. So I grabbed my bible journal with the intention of doodling in there, but I just wasn’t feeling it. [Side note: is anyone else out there like ridiculously picky about their journals? I love the cover of the one I have right now, but it isn’t spiral bound and it just makes me unreasonably angry to try to use it sometimes. I hate having to fight with it to make it stay open while I’m writing. Plus, there’s like this whole inch column down every other page that I just can’t quite get my pen in there to write… ugh. It’s a first world problem, for sure.] I remembered that you could draw on the note app on my phone and decided to give it a whirl. These particular words came to mind as soon as I sat down to doodle. It took me forever to get a version I like enough, and it’s still not perfect at all. My phone needs a stylus – finger writing on a screen just isn’t the same.

My husband and I need so many prayers of encouragement at the moment. I feel like God is moving in our hearts and leading us to something big and scary. If you all don’t know my husband a) you should, because he is the sweetest human being on the planet, and b) he is good at pretty much everything. Okay, not everything, but A LOT of things. He taught himself the bass, guitar (he plays this crazy good), piano, and drums. I always tease him that he can listen to a song once and instantly know how to play it on guitar (and that’s only exaggerating a little.) He is excellent at woodworking, plus he LOVES it. He was going to school for drafting and loved that. I’m telling you, anything he tries to do, he learns it quickly and well. Our pastor’s wife is in on this joke and commented on the pumpkin he painted a few weeks ago with perfectly straight free-handed triangles. I mean, seriously, he even paints pumpkins well. Anyway, there are so many things he is good at that I just know he knows how to do for a reason. I’m not speaking any specific idea out loud yet, because I don’t want to limit what God has in store for us. But, I’m almost certain we were meant to work together somehow, owning our own business. Prayers for boldness and discernment for that would be greatly appreciated.

A guitar that hubby has made, the infamous perfect pumpkin, and a baby play gym that I mentioned liking and he whipped one up in a few evenings (he even made the wooden rings!) This guy is ridiculous.

Anyway, this whole tangent started because I said I was feeling creative. So, here’s me, putting that out into the world. I pray that I can continue to be inspired, and that it will lead to something amazing!

Tithe

Last week was a crazy week. This week has been much more calm, and I’ve had some time to process. So, it all started two weekends ago, actually, when a car that we normally couldn’t afford showed up at my husband’s work (he works in the automotive industry) in exactly our price range. We had been discussing needing a new one in the near future – ours has the possibility of some transmission issues and our extended warranty has expired. We’ve always had issues with the air conditioning not being cool enough, and there’s no rear A/C, so it takes baby girl forever to cool down in the backseat in the summer. Plus, the paint looks awful (and I know that doesn’t affect how well the car drives, but it literally looks like I drove through an acid hail storm.) I did not think, however, we would be thinking about purchasing another one so soon. Anyway, this car turns up and it checks all the boxes on my “must-have” list for a new car: heated seats (we had these in a previous car and I miss them so much), heated mirrors, rear heating and air, and enough room for all our stuff – especially the mound of stuff we take on vacation with us. My husband inquired about the car and turns out, it was priced that low by mistake, but they’re willing to honor it. Well, that seemed too perfect. So, that night he and I discussed it, then I prayed about it before bed. I had a very clear dream that night that I asked God for a sign that we should buy this car, and He provided it. But, still clearer in my dream, God told me to give Him what was His first. We’ve been spotty tithers the last few years. At first, I blamed it on the new baby, then “mom brain” made me forget, but somewhere along the way I let it become of little importance in my mind. I’d give when I remembered, and sometimes not even then because we had extra bills that month or whatever. You don’t have to give me a tithing sermon, I know deep in my soul the importance of giving God back what He so graciously gives us. I just let it become a wedge. It kept separating me further and further from God’s plan for my life. It wasn’t good. Then a few months ago, hubby told me that our church was now doing automatic withdrawal for tithing. I know, it sounds sort of cold, but it was exactly the commitment and accountability I needed. I wanted to give, I just either let it slip my mind, or rationalized my way out of it when it came time to actually do it. I was not a “cheerful giver.” He and I both agreed that this was something we needed to do, but, again, for whatever reason, we hadn’t done it yet. So, when I had my dream, I knew exactly what we needed to do before anything else. Sunday we got the form and set up our tithes to be withdrawn from our account automatically.

Monday was incredibly warm for a February day. Our hot water had been running out pretty quickly for some time, so hubby went to Lowe’s and got an element to change out to see if that helped. Baby girl and I had already played outside, but daddy was going and she wanted to go too. I really had more work I needed to do, but I put it off until later and took her back outside (a 10 or 11 PM clock out time is pretty normal for me anymore.) Hubby got under the house and started working on the water heater. He came out a few minutes later and told me that the whole bottom of the unit had rusted out, and there was no way to fix it. My mind immediately started spinning. We had talked about, down the road that included a home improvement loan, putting in a tankless water heater. I start trying to figure out how to make something work, but my head just kept getting fuzzy. Too. Much. Big. Decision. Making. We talked about calling a plumber we know and discussing our options with him, but it was already like 5 PM, and it was supposed to rain the rest of the week. Hubby ended up finding a tank that would fit in our short crawlspace in stock at Lowe’s, so he went off to get that while I fed baby girl dinner. He got home and started working while I put baby girl to bed. I finally went out to check on him and I felt so helpless. I asked what I could do to help, and he said, “just keep me company.” There was a lot of crawling around in the dirt under the house, turning on faucets, and walking back and forth through the yard. My sweet husband was under the house on his hands and knees in the dark working so hard so that we could have hot water. He’s literally the best.

Tuesday morning baby girl woke up a few minutes earlier than usual screaming her head off. She had a stuffy nose, but other than that seemed fine. She ate a few bites of breakfast and said she was done. As the morning went on, I could tell she was congested. I called the pediatrician to find out the correct dosage for some benadryl, and we turned the shower on really hot and sat in the steamy bathroom for a while. When we got out, she really started acting pitiful. I could hear that she had some drainage in her throat, and she ended up gagging on it and throwing up. I thought that was all it was, but she ended up vomiting about 10 times throughout the day. She couldn’t keep anything down.

Wednesday she was almost more pitiful because you could tell she felt better enough to want to play, but she didn’t have the energy to. She barely ate all day, but did eat a fairly good dinner. We sat on the couch and cuddled most of the day.

Thursday she was much more like herself, with only a few pitiful moments in between. She still hardly ate anything. That morning I had so much energy. I changed the sheets and washed the dirty ones, started straightening up a spot in our bedroom that has been a mess since we moved here, did more laundry, did some proactive and productive things for work, did the dishes, and just straightened up anything else out of place along the way. I was so stinking productive. I was sitting on the couch working when baby girl woke up from her nap. I went to get up, and I noticed I was kind of sore all over. My throat had been a little scratchy that morning, but I figured it was sleeping with my mouth open. That afternoon, I could feel constant drainage running down the back of my throat, and it was getting progressively worse. By the time 3 o’clock rolled around, I was pretty miserable. That night I laid in bed and my arms and legs just ached. I could barely swallow and when I did I gagged on what was in my throat. My poor, sweet girl… no wonder she was pitiful. It was miserable. Luckily I skipped the vomiting part, but it’s now Monday night and I’m still not 100%

Sweet girl starting to feel better. Dressing up and a good book are a great remedy for the yuckies.

Baby girl and I stayed home from church yesterday so we didn’t spread our germs and I’m glad we did. She had a meltdown after she woke up from her nap that lasted an hour. I’m still not exactly sure what was wrong, but she acted like something hurt. We finally gave her some pain medicine and after it had just enough time to kick in, she finally calmed down. Even today, she’s had crying spells, she hasn’t wanted to walk much at all but instead wants to be carried everywhere, and we’ve sat and cuddled more than we’ve done anything else. I told my husband today that I’m not going to lie – I kind of like it when she starts whining [okay, I really don’t like the whining part] and says, “I need to cuddle mama.” There were months and months after she was born, maybe even a whole year, where she just did not like to cuddle. So, even though it’s not super conducive to me getting things done, it makes me happy to hear that she wants to cuddle. I do hate that it’s because she doesn’t feel good. We’re going on a week that she’s been off.

Anyway, we made a commitment to give God some of the money He has blessed us with, and look, satan immediately freaked out. He attacked us hard. Nope, I’m not taking that money back to pay for whatever you’re throwing at me. You can’t threaten me. I KNOW that when I bless God, a wonderful side effect of it is that He will bless me right back again. I have no room for your financial strains and sickness. Bye.

The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully… He who supplies the seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness.

2 Corinthians 9:6 & 10

So, obviously it’s Wednesday now…I started writing this last week and finished Monday. Word vomit. I think I write these things to process them, to kind of take a step back and see them from a different perspective than the one I have when I’m smack dab in the middle of it. Also, it’s way easier to recognize satan’s attacks when you take a step back. I think I also just want to remember these things. Broken water heaters and sickness are real life. It may not be the picture-perfect moment that I’ll remember 20 years from now, but it’s still our life right now.

Day.

It’s 11:28 PM and I just clocked out and laid down in the bed with my rice sock, because man do I ache. Today has just been a day. It’s been Monday. I’m exhausted.

I got so much done today… and still feel so very behind. Why are there not enough hours in the day to do everything? I feel like if I excel in some aspects, others get neglected. In a typical day, these are the things that I try to make time for:

• Breakfast

• Exercise

• Laundry

• Work

• Play + read with baby girl

• Lunch

• Dishes

• Bible time

• Dinner prep

• Tidying up

• Dinner

• Put baby girl to bed

• Time with hubby

I put out Avon books (which entails driving like 20 minutes out of town and putting books in paper boxes in our old neighborhood), somehow worked SEVEN hours, and did a lot of other things mentioned above. But I didn’t get to the laundry, and I neglected my bible time. The laundry can wait, I know, but not making time to spend with God is not good at all.

My husband is the best. I know I brag on him a lot, but he deserves it. He saw that I was still trying to work when he got home, so he packed up baby girl and went to the store to grab a few things we needed so I could work in peace for a while. I had also jokingly said I was craving alfredo, so he bought the necessary ingredients to make it and cooked it for me after baby girl went to bed. I don’t know what I would do without him. He sees the dishes need doing and does them. He cooks dinner almost every night. He helps me in so many ways and is just the best partner to go through life with.

I wrote this Monday night, but life hasn’t slowed down since. Last night I clocked out at 10 PM, so that’s an improvement, right? Working from home is not as glamorous as everyone might think. For me, it’s a constant battle in my mind between feeling guilty about not spending enough time with my kid and not being the best employee I can be. Ugh.

Also, can we talk about my husband some more? That night, he made linguine alfredo, last night he made hand-breaded pan-fried cod with fresh fries and mushy peas, and tonight he’s making steak frites. What in the world did I do to deserve this man and his cooking? Yum.

Um, yummy. I’ll just leave this right here.

Cheer.

Bear with me, guys. I’ve been working on this particular post all week when I have time, so parts of the post were written at different times.

It’s the day before Christmas eve and I’m sitting here doing something I never do – holding my daughter while she takes a nap. She will be two next month, and I’m pretty sure I can count on one hand how many times we’ve done this since she started sleeping in her own bed at around four months. I don’t know if she’s getting sick, if she’s just growing, or if it’s simply the chaos of Christmas, but this kid has been out of whack for a couple of weeks. She whines ALL THE TIME (and if you know me, you know I can’t stand whining), she’s been sleeping way longer than normal at night, waking up later than usual (I slept in until 8 AM last Saturday – I literally haven’t done that since she was born), and being extra cuddly (which is so unlike her). It could be that her sleeping schedule keeps getting messed up because of various outings, or because of all the different and not-so-great-for-you food we’ve been letting her eat (like the entire snickerdoodle cookie she ate last night.) Whatever it is, she’s out of sorts. So, here we are, sitting in the chair in her room, all cuddled up in a blanket. She is still sniffling in her sleep from crying even after at least 45 minutes of sitting here. I feel bad, because I tried so hard to comfort her and get her to sleep in her bed like she does every other day. I told her no when she said she wanted to “cuddle mama,” because it has become to her a kind of distraction from doing things she doesn’t want to do. But, after her screaming uncontrollably for a few minutes, I couldn’t take it. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. And as much as I love cuddling this sweet girl while she sleeps, I don’t want this to become a thing. I don’t want her to learn to scream uncontrollably when something isn’t really wrong because she knows that eventually she’ll get her way. I don’t want her to think that she can’t fall asleep on her own anymore and undo all the work we did getting her to sleep as well as she does. Why is this so hard?

Cuddling my whiny baby.

Now, it’s 1:30 AM and I’m still laying here awake. I stayed up to finish wrapping presents and now I’m wired. Hubby has been complaining more than usual that he’s tired, and I can visibly see that he’s exhausted. He hasn’t slept well in years, and he’s finally got a sleep study consultation scheduled next month (after much nagging on my part.) But, I feel like his sleeping has gotten worse recently… kind of around the time baby girl’s started being noticeably out of whack. I don’t know what’s going on, but between all the busyness of the season and worrying about my people’s sleep, I’m not sleeping either. I keep hearing baby girl talk in her sleep or cry out, and, bless his heart, hubby’s snoring isn’t super conducive to either of us getting much sleep. We’re a family of zombies lately.

I write all this to say that even though sometimes we think people’s holiday season looks picture-perfect, it’s more than likely not really. If you look at the December album on my Facebook, it looks like we have it all together. In reality we’re all so tired, I have about fifty of the same picture on my phone from trying to get that one perfect shot, we’re doing the third load of dishes today and somehow the sink is still full, the laundry is piled high, I still have people to buy Christmas gifts for, I’m worried about us getting sick (there are SO MANY germs out there right now), and I’m trying to find the balance of handling all this and just living in and enjoying the moment. Those are usually the only parts anyone ever sees. But, if you’ve been struggling, you’re not alone. No one’s holiday season is actually perfect; we just have to choose to see our own chaos, whatever it looks like, as perfect to us.

My kid was SUPER over opening Christmas gifts.

I’ve been super guilty in the past of building up my expectations (especially holiday expectations) so high that they can’t possibly be met, and then getting so disappointed when my “plans” didn’t turn out. I think I did better this year. I’ve been trying to live more intentionally. I’ve been trying to enjoy each moment for what it is instead of what I think it should be. God has shown me a lot lately that my plans are not His plans, and that’s perfectly fine because His plan is better. He keeps reminding me, and I’ve been trying to do better about just going with the flow and appreciating the ride. Movie nights with hot chocolate and matching pajama photos are fine, but do you know what else is great? Reading the same book with my daughter over and over again because she wants “mama read again,” taking a different way home than you normally would so your daughter can see the giant blow up Santa on top of the government building downtown, late-night dinner and grocery store runs with your husband to get a few last-minute gifts, staying up late to make biscuit dough for a Christmas brunch with your family, and sitting in the quiet room with the Christmas tree all lit up.

The everyday, unplanned, and messy moments are the moments. They make up the majority of our whole lives. If we just keep waiting and wishing for those fleeting picture-perfect moments, we will end up disappointed. Our lives will pass us by without us even realizing it.

Making goodies with my girl. Glad her daddy caught this “picture-perfect” moment because it lasted about two seconds.

Beautiful.

Hubby and I had a much-needed date night tonight and I’m feeling so much better. We needed the alone time for sure. We went to see A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, and it was so good. I usually avoid all together movies that I know are going to make me cry (well, almost every movie makes me cry at some point, but like, if I see “heart-warming” or “inspirational” or anything like that in a trailer, I’m out), but I had to see this movie. I loved Mr. Rogers growing up, and, hello, it’s Tom Hanks.. what’s not to love? I went in knowing that I would probably be ugly crying throughout the whole thing, so I was emotionally prepared. But, I made it like 2/3 of the movie without crying, and I thought I was doing good. Ugh, that last third will get you, watcher beware. Men crying make me cry, and that happened, so… cue the waterworks.

I haven’t really researched Fred Rogers’ life, so I don’t know exactly how accurate some of the things in the movie were, but there were several things that stuck out to me. [Stop here to avoid spoilers!] The man that’s interviewing Mr. Rogers asks him repeatedly how he handles the burden of knowing other people’s problems, and he answers with things from his show – pounding clay, playing all the low notes on the piano at once, etc. Mrs. Rogers tells him later that Fred reads scripture and prays for people by name, that he practices healthy ways to manage his feelings daily, so that he can better handle himself when things get overwhelming. What a concept. I know I’m guilty of either not caring enough about someone, because I don’t want the accompanying emotional burden, or caring but holding onto that burden until the weight of it almost breaks me. We were made to love each other. We were made to care for each other. We were made to carry one another’s burdens, but we don’t have to carry them alone or forever. We can hand them to God, knowing that He can carry anything we give Him and infinitely more.

What if we genuinely cared for people so much that we specifically prayed for them by name, that we went to God on behalf of, not just the people we see every day, but all the people that we run into and might never see again? What if we saw people for the souls they are, souls that are experiencing the ups and downs of life just like we are? Mr. Rogers had a heart for people, just as Jesus calls us to do. We could definitely all take some notes.

Another thing that stuck out to me was how present he was in each moment. Whoever he was talking to at the time was his sole focus. He told the reporter on the phone that talking to him was the most important thing he was doing in that moment. So very often, I glaze over as I go through moments. I pay just enough attention to respond. I let thoughts of what I need to do next distract my attention from what’s happening right in front of me. Mr. Rogers seemed to always be completely present, noticing emotional cues and small details about the other person that you could only understand by really focusing on them. I absolutely love that. Giving the person in front of us our full attention is such a simple way of showing God’s love to others. I really could use some work in this department. My introverted self is so focused on getting through a conversation without saying something totally awkward, that I forget about the other person. I’ve got some work to do on my intentional living.

The overall tone of the parts of the movie with Mr. Rogers was patient, calm, caring, and genuine. I couldn’t help but think how he (the real Mr. Rogers) must have shaped a lot of my personality as I was growing up. When I was a kid, I watched a lot of TV (I played a lot too…). I had my routine, certain things that I absolutely had to watch when they came on every day. Mr. Rogers was definitely one of those shows. Every day, I would watch this sweet man talk about feelings and how to handle them properly. As an emotional, sensitive person, that really resonated with me, even as a kid. My other afternoon PBS must-watch was the Joy of Painting with Bob Ross. I loved how quiet and calm he was, and how he could always take a mistake and make it into something beautiful anyway. These two calm, sensitive men were a big part of my childhood and I honestly think they shaped my personality. As I’ve grown older, I’ve actually gotten more outspoken (if you know me, I know that’s hard to believe), so much more cynical, and a lot more impatient. Watching that movie made me remember how I used to be, and how far I’ve come (good and not so good). It made me remember to slow down, and remember to enjoy moments as they happen.

So, I highly recommend the movie if you haven’t seen it yet. It’s emotional, for sure, but man does it make you think. Plus, the nostalgia alone is totally worth it. On a related note – as I said, I usually try to steer clear of these kinds of movies, but there have been a couple of others that I’ve seen fairly recently that I recommend as well: Saving Mr. Banks was so good, as well as Christopher Robin. Bring a tissue. They’ll break your heart, but put it back together by the end. On the other hand, do not watch Wind River, whatever you do. It’s not worth the emotional trauma. It’s just not. I thought, “I like Jeremy Renner, it got pretty good reviews, this will be good.” Just don’t. It’s not a bad movie, but, ugh, is it so very sad.

I’m thankful for date nights where we can just focus on each other. I told hubby yesterday that a lot of times I’m so focused on being a mother, that I forget to be a wife as well. Having time to refocus on him and our relationship as husband and wife is just what I need from time to time.

Super old pic that hubby’s cousin took of us while we were dating… circa 2009. Yikes.

Me.

I haven’t written anything (besides my bible journal) in a while. I guess my recent anxiety is trying to hold on, because I just haven’t really felt like writing. I started typing out something similar to this the other night and got distracted. I just looked for it, and it was nowhere to be found – my phone deleted it. In talking with the husband, he pointed out that someone (ahem, satan) doesn’t want me writing. I’ve had an excuse why I shouldn’t or don’t want to the last several times I have sat down to do it. I was talking to him just now about it, waved my arms around (as I often do while talking… what can I say? I’m animated) and completely tossed my phone across the room as a loud, thunderous echo resounded through the house and down the hall to where I’m sure my sleeping toddler could hear. I literally started crying. A) because that proved right what he had just said… there have been so many distractions and emotional setbacks over the past few weeks that have prevented me from writing, and B) because I was stinking embarrassed. I’m a spaz, and I’ll be the first to admit it, but GOOD GRIEF. So, I guess I’ll just write. Whether I know what I’m going to say or not, whether I think it’s good or not. I’ve got to start again somewhere.

For those of you following my health, some new things have happened. Keep in mind: I am thirty one years old. I finally visited a primary care physician for the first time in my adult life. My blood pressure during my visit was through the roof, and the nurse practitioner I saw didn’t like it at all. We discussed a few options, and landed on a low dose of beta blockers. She said that not only would it help my blood pressure, but also my anxiety and migraines. So, I’ve been taking those for about a week and a half, and I have been checking my own blood pressure at home at least once a day. I’ve been told that I have white coat syndrome before, and I know that is a lot of why my blood pressure is high when I go to the doctor. I get so worked up about it… I even freak out using the machine at the grocery store. I don’t know what my problem is… I told my mom the other day that it hurts my arm, and I think that is part of the reason I get so upset – because I’m anticipating the pain. She said that it doesn’t hurt her, but that my granny used to always say the same thing – that it hurt. So, I’ve been taking it a lot lately, trying to desensitize myself to the cuff. The other day, I took it five times in a row because it was a little higher than it had been at first. I got it down substantially just by doing it over and over again – it literally went down a little every time. So, that’s where I am… constantly being aware of my heart rate and taking a “grandma dose” of blood pressure medication, as my nurse practitioner called it. I’m going to get labs done to recheck my cholesterol (fasting this time) and some other things this week. Then I will go back for a more comprehensive physical at the end of the month. It’s been so long since I have seen a doctor, I have a huge list of concerns… she’ll probably think I’m a hypochondriac. And she’ll probably be right. Everytime I have a random pain in my arms or legs, I pretty much convince myself that it’s a blood clot or that I’m getting ready to have a stroke. Yeah, that definitely helps my anxiety… The other night, I had sharp pains from my rib cage, up into my chest, and down my arm. I was pretty convinced I was having a heart attack. Then the husband pushed on my stomach, I let out a huge belch, everything shifted a little, and I realized it was probably just a gas bubble pressing on a nerve or something. Ugh.

Some other random thoughts:

Baby girl’s favorite word is “no” at the moment and she will disagree with whatever you say, it doesn’t matter what it is. She liked Halloween, but a boy in one of those blow-up dinosaur costumes really made her day. She keeps talking about it whenever anybody asks her about Halloween, and the last two nights, we’ve thanked God for dinosaurs in our prayers. She kills me. She’s also been very clingy the last few days. And as much as l love to hear her say, “cuddle mama,” I do have a job that I sort of have to do some of the time. It killed me this past week when I was working, and she kept coming over to my desk and saying, “mama play with you [me]?” How can I say no to that? How do work at home parents get work done? My job is only part time, and my new normal the last few weeks has been finishing up my work after she goes to bed (which, by the way, annoyingly cuts into husband time). Balance is hard. I feel guilty when I’m actually productive for work, because that usually means that baby girl has been left to entertain herself for hours, or has been dragged all over creation with me in the car. I also feel guilty when I spend the day with her, because I feel like I’m not contributing enough financially to our family. Mom guilt is rough.

A screen shot of a typical time sheet for me. Clocked in 12 hours, only worked less than five. A lot of times, it’s even less.

Baby girl and I have gotten back to taking morning walks. I love getting to spend the time with her, starting our day exploring outside, and getting in a small workout for me. Twice around our neighborhood is about a mile, and I know that’s not much. But, out of shape me works up a sweat and gets a couple thousand steps in. I figure that’s better than nothing.

Love our morning walks, even if we have to bundle up quite a bit now that the weather is chillier.

Well, now that I’ve broken the ice again, maybe I’ll get back to writing more regularly. I don’t know what kind of writing funk I’m in, but it can go away now. I’ll probably post a bible journal entry or two next time. I have several earmarked that I felt were important to share.

More than food.

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?

Matthew 6:25

Background courtesy of our sunflower field excursion the other night. I can’t get enough of these pictures!

I guess life is more than food, although I REALLY enjoy it. All kidding aside – when Jesus tells me not to be anxious, I sit up and listen, because I am so very often anxious. I know I’ve done this verse before, and I know I have probably already said what I’m going to say somewhere before, because this verse always reminds me of a specific time in my life. When the husband and I were first married, we didn’t have a lot of extra money. In fact, it was super tight. We lived in an apartment downtown with original hardwood floors that we loved, but it was really probably out of our budget. We miraculously always had enough money for our bills, but not much else. There were times when I honestly can’t tell you where we found the money to buy the things we needed. There were times when I would find a restaurant gift card that I would have sworn that we already used. There were SO MANY times when our families helped out above and beyond what any family should do. Not once did we ever doubt that we would be okay. We KNEW God was taking care of us. There was no other way we could have gotten through it.

In his devotion today, Jim talked about focusing more on the spiritual. He said, “What do we spend more time thinking about? Does it make sense for us to be concerned about the things that serve us or the things that serve God?” Are we seeking first the kingdom or seeking to satisfy our stomachs?

To me, it all goes back to distractions. Yes, God provides for us, and that should be enough. But instead of being content with our blessings from Him, we let the world, satan, tell us that we need more and that we can get it ourselves.

I felt slightly convicted as I read this. Ever since the weather [finally] got cooler, I’ve been justifying to myself (if you don’t know me, just ask my husband… I can rationalize just about anything to death to justify it if I want to. He recently likened it to a superpower that I usually use for evil, haha) why I need new fall clothes: “I’ve had these shoes since 2005, this sweater is baggy on me now, I wore the same shirt twice in one week,” …the excuses go on and on. I keep telling myself that if I’m happier with the way that I look, I won’t be so distracted, I’ll be happier in general, I’ll be more motivated… and all these things may be true. BUT, I don’t necessarily think that my clothes need to change. Maybe, my attitude needs to change. Maybe, I need a more grateful, contented attitude that sees that I’m already taken care of physically, but more importantly, spiritually. How’s that for a thought?

The background to this one I took several years ago on my husband’s family farm. Just like old barns, we can choose to see our weathering as a blessing of life, or as a distraction, something that needs to be fixed up and painted to be worth anything.