You're pressing your luck, kid

Dear Baby,

Fashionably late really only applies when you are a girl (you've got a 50/50 shot), are in your 20's, and going to a party.  So stop pressing your luck and get here already.

Love,
Mommy

One Week

Dear Baby,
I am officially ready to meet you.  I want to be able to name you and hold you instead of just having you taunt me at your arrival.  I guess it means you will fit into this family well.  As I was talking to your dad the other day I finally admitted how scared I am.  When you are trying for a baby you are thinking about the excitement of life, the cuteness of babies.  Then, apparently when you are a week out from delivery (again, anytime is JUST FINE), you realize what having a baby actually means.  Or you think you know.  The only thing I know is that I really have no idea.  But I will learn. 

I thought I'd go ahead and tell you what you will be coming home to.  First, a house that isn't quite ready.  We moved recently and haven't completely finished getting it ready.  But you will have somewhere to sleep, food to eat and diapers so I'm not sure you will know the difference.  Your room gets the best sunlight so I will probably be in there more than you would like.  So far everyone likes to be in your room.  Here is proof.

Calabash is the cat.  I can't say for sure if you will like her or vice versa.  She is very old and quite odd.  She kind of runs the house.  She is your dad's cat.

Lucy is the yellow dog.  She will love you...she loves everyone.  She hates loud noises.  Just trust me on that.  She will probably sleep in your room every night and protect you.  Fiercely loyal and loving, she will be your best friend as you grow up.  She isn't sorry for all the hair she leaves around the house.

Maddie is the brown dog.  She will like that you will drop food.  Until that point she will probably be indifferent to you.  Unless you serve a purpose for her, she lets you know you have no purpose.  Don't try and take one of her toys and you should be just fine. 

Your daddy.  He will be the one with a deep voice and dark hair.  He is pretty freaking cute too.  I imagine if there is someone changing your diaper and gagging at the same time, it may be him.  He will no doubt spoil you.  If you are a girl he will be the one wrapped around your finger.  Please do not use this to your advantage.  If you are a boy he will be the one to teach you everything important in life.  He will sing to you and play guitar (both ways that mommy fell for him).  He will be your constant, your strength.

Your mommy.  I don't really know what to say about me.  I'm sure I'll be the one with the food for awhile.  And the one that cries at movies.  But I hope I'm the one that makes you feel better when you are sick.  I hope I'm the one that is the first person you want when there is a nightmare, or when the cat freaks you out as she often does to me.  I hope I'm the one that makes you feel safe.  If you are a girl, I hope I'm the one that you admire.  If you are a boy, I hope I'm the one that always supports your choices in all things, even your future wife. 

As a whole, we are your family.  Your dad and I will teach you to love God, to love others, and finally, yourself.  Your dad and I will hopefully be a testament to marriage and give you an idea of what love is.  We will fail at all things at some point, but I hope we are the ones that teach you to fail with grace and dignity. 

Waiting (im)patiently,
Mommy

Is Closer Better?

It's getting closer.  I can tell.  And it really scares me.  I'm having lots of contractions (always hurt at night...thanks a ton).  Pressure in all the right (or wrong) places, babies head in position.  Now all I have to do is wait.  And anyone that knows me knows I don't do that well. 

I would of course be due around a major holiday, so the doula we've hired is going out of town.  We have a back up, but it isn't the same.  The back up won't pray with us, we don't have the same connection, etc.  So I hope to either go before she leaves, which would essentially be this weekend, or after she returns, which doesn't sound much better.

We've also decided to do a water birth.  Women's hospital will allow them now and my midwives are on board.  Let's hope baby is. 

My house is a wreck, my china cabinet still isn't unpacked and work is crazy.  Part of me knows none of that matters, but I hate that it is in the back of my head. 

And I'm scared to death about PPD.  Can I handle the stress of a newborn?  Can I be a good enough mom?  Will I ever measure up?  You know, just everyday questions...

Letters (the snail mail kind)

I'm reading a book right now that actually made me laugh out loud.  That doesn't happen often.  Usually my laughing out loud comes at the hand of "America's Funniest Home Videos".  I have memories of talking to my mom on the phone while we were both watching that show and laughing hysterically.  When I need a pick me up, it's my go-to show.

But this book in intriguing.  It is completely made up of letters to and from its characters.  It was frustrating at first, but now I love it.  It's almost as if the characters let you in, but only so much because how much can you tell about a person from a letter since it is void of conversation and emotions (that can be seen or described in literature)?  And maybe that is why I like it.  It reminds me of myself. 

Brad and I watched a movie recently that was recommended:  Waitress.  While the acting and story line were good, I don't think I can actually recommend it to anyone.  It doesn't have the best moral story.  However, I've been a Keri Russell fan since Felicity and if I had any bravery at all I would cut my hair off in the hopes of having it grow back and look like hers.  But I digress.  In the movie she is having a baby that she doesn't want.  But she starts to write the child letters.  They change depending on the events of her life at the time.  Some are apologetic for not wanting it, some are mad for the child making her stay in a bad marriage, some are hopeful of what will come.  But all are from the heart.  The movie made me cry at one point because it told the child what she hoped for it.  And it wasn't about having riches or happiness even.  It was about having love.  The kind where someone will hug you for 20 minutes and not say anything, just because they know you need it even thought their arms have long since fallen asleep and they really need a drink of water kind of love. 

I wonder what I would write to my unborn child if I could.  It is safe to say that I've run the whole spectrum of emotions during this pregnancy.  And I imagine that will be the case after birth as well.  And maybe it's fair for them to know as much as possible about life and all that comes with it.  But maybe it's better for them to find out on their own too.  Make their own life.  Make their own memories.  But maybe it can't hurt to give them a head start.  Here is my first letter:

Dear Baby:

Life is tough, but you will survive, I promise.  And you will be better for it.  Take the good with the bad and love each the same for they happen for a reason.  And I'm sorry for all the mistakes I will make and all the therapy bills you will probably  have.  I promise to have good insurance for you.  And I love you.  Even though I haven't met you., and more than you can imagine.

Love,

Mom

Be still

"Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act.
He will bring forth your righteiousness as the light,
and your justice as the noonday.

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him;"

Psalm 37: 5-7 ESV

As a person, this is the hardest thing for me.  How can we sit by and "trust in him" when we want action?  We want what we want.  But what we want may not be what He has in store for us. 

So I ask for your prayers today, and everyday.  Be still.  Be patient.  For him. 

Double Standards

It's always a struggle for me.  Should I say this or not?  Should I tell my boss this bothers me or not?  As I've mentioned before, I have two bosses in this office.  Both are great in their own way.  But one is male, one is female.  I will bring things to them differently.  I will bring certain things to the female, not to the male. 

So this morning I get an email that just really burns my butt.  But how do I react?  Do I send it to the male boss (because it was from one of his other employees)?  Or do I do nothing?  Because afterall I'm female, pregnant, emotional, etc, etc.  All those adjectives they will use to negate the issue.  And they are both male. 

Do I do nothing and allow it to happen again?  Yes, I know the correct answer is to go directly to the person I have an issue with.  Been there.  Done that.  Useless. 

I really feel like I can't do anything.  My male boss hates complainers.  My female boss hates for people to be treated that way.

Just frustrating. 

It just fits

This weekend Brad and I celebrated our 12 year wedding anniversary.  I know I should have written this sooner, but hellooooo, I'm a little busy.  We got to celebrate by doing Children's Church and then continuing to move and pack.  By 9:00 we were just plain exhausted.  On Saturday we were going to get something for dinner and I said, "how about you go in and get dinner while I run into Hallmark".  He said, "what do you need at Hallmark?".  Yes, I thought it was kinda an obvious one as well.  I simply replied, "A card."  He then quickly said, "how about we both go in Hallmark".  We'd both been so busy we hadn't had time to even get a card for each other!

Suffice it to say, we didn't get to enjoy each other or our special day this year.  But honestly, that is ok.  Sure, a trip would have been wonderful.  A dinner out would have been nice.  But I get to spend every day with him, and that is enough.  Sometimes more than enough.  :)  Just knowing he is there is such a comfort to me that I struggle how to tell people who are newlyweds or looking for spouses or getting ready to get married just how wonderful it is.  After the newness fades and you've seen the absolute worst in each other, how do you explain how awesome that is?  I know that sounds like an oxymoron, (I just love that word) but there is something about knowing what he is going to say or how he is going to react that I love.  There is something to knowing that during football season I need to get my talking in before the games that I love too.  And there is something to knowing that when he says "So, I was thinking...", I need to run for cover that is comforting.  Because it is Brad.  And through the divine grace of God, he is mine. 

Where did it come from?

No, not talking about babies.  But as I was typing an email to a dear person who doesn't blog nearly as much as she should, spellchecker said "blog" wasn't a word.  Surely it is.  We've used it for years now.  I know I'm not spelling it incorrectly. 

So where does the working girl go to find out the down-low on everything?  Wikipedia, of course.

Here you go...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blog

Note to Self

Everyone knows I love my dogs.  They are cute and sweet and love me even though they shouldn't.  While our house was on the market my mother was very gracious in taking them off our hands for a bit.  I think it was actually about a month.  They came home this weekend and since then it has become apparent what having my dogs back tell me:

• They are hairy.  Their hair likes my floor.  Their hair likes my nose.  Their hair likes my clothes.  My house was much cleaner for the month they were gone. 
• They are loud.  They 'talk' too much.  They whine too much.  Things were much quieter while they were gone.
• Alarm clocks are unnecessary.  It is now impossible to sleep past 6:30 on a Saturday.  Or any day for that matter. Who needs to eat breakfast that early?  And I know they don't really have to pee. 
• They are stubborn.  I know they can hear me.  Just because one of them is 13 is no excuse to ignore me when I'm talking.  It's funny they can hear the water turn on for dinner or the covers move when I'm getting out bed, but not me telling them to come back inside.
• My house feels smaller.  Is it necessary for them to be under my feet constantly?  I can't tell you the number of times I tell everything with four legs to get out of the kitchen. 
• Going to the bathroom alone is impossible.  Seriously, I always come out.  It's ok.  I don't need company.  Thank you for the thoughtfulness.  Next time bring me flowers out of someone else's garden or buy me dinner.
• Schedules now revolve around them instead of me.  No more running errands after work.  No more...well, that is all I would do.

In retrospect, I now realize I'm just preparing myself for kids.  I think I'm screwed.

Plagiarism

Technically it's not plagiarism because I'm giving credit to the author, I just didn't do any of the work.  Most of you don't know I know someone famous.  It's kinda cool.  But he cries a lot when I beat him in cards.  Regardless, he has quite an awesome blog (http://www.tonywoodlief.com/) and has recently been published.  Check that out here.  I highly recommend both.  And don't believe him when he says that he beats me at cards. 

One of his recent posts really spoke to me.  I wish I could write as eloquenty as he.  I also wish that people read my blog.  But I'll settle for people reading his.  Hope you enjoy as much as I did.  Here is the link if you prefer. 

The found faith
July 14th, 2010 Posted in Faith and Life

Faith is this knowing in the center of you that will not leave. It has been to you a light that guides, light that illumines the worst of yourself, weight that steadies, weight that holds you where you do not want to be. Perhaps, when it first stirred inside your chest, you tried to build a home for it in your head. You read the books, learned the phrases, spouted your word-filled prayers. You learned how to speak of it to others. You studied clever ways to prove it to them. You resented them when they rejected your clever words. It became, for a time, your self-worth, your assurance that you inhabit a special place in the universe.

But your faith would not live in the house of your intellect, only your pride, and your self-love, and your anger, all of which you clothed in righteousness and labeled God. Then you stumbled, or the world destroyed some part of you, or took someone you loved, or maybe all of these things, and then the house you constructed for your faith held only the echoes of your catechisms, the hollow encouragements of your well-meaning, faith-minded friends, the obligatory notion that whatever doesn’t kill us makes us more holy.

Only it didn’t make you more holy. It left these holes in you, this world, and so perhaps you cast what passed for faith out of your mind, and set about the business of self-medication or self-destruction, which in the end come always to the same place. You shuttered the house built for faith in your mind, and perhaps you told everyone or perhaps you told no one, but you next tried to live a life without faith, ran from faith until you were empty, empty and broken down and not knowing any more what you had ever known or why you ever thought you knew it.

And then you find that faith will no more leave you than it will take wings at your bidding. You find that it will never live in your head, that it will never be fine thread to weave with words, that it will never adorn you as something crafted to make you more complete.

You find, instead, that it persists in the deepest parts of you, in the places where you most desperately need and fear it. You find that you have run all this way and never departed from it, because it has never departed from you, because it was never any more your choice than is the beating of your heart.

And so you come, at the end of your running and rending of flesh, to faith, which long ago came to you. It is weight and it is light and it is knowing. It is belief in the midst of unbelief, quiet truth uttered after lies. It is waiting, it is silent prayer. It is whispered thanks for the way your child sighs in his sleep, and for wind that soughs the trees. It is knowing you are unforgotten. It is what bears you homeward.

Should be illegal in all States

Since it's official that I'm going crazy, I figured it was ok to post something about being illegal since I can use the insanity defense and all. My life has been a complete whirlwind lately. And I really think it should be illegal to be pregnant and buying/selling homes at the same time. Do you realize how emotional and fragile we are? And we can't drink! Again...illegal.

So my poor husband has had to deal with all kinds of strange things lately. First of all, the heat. And I don't mean from outside. I am naturally a very cold natured person. I'm always cold. ALWAYS. However, lately there have been many nights that I will wake up, drenched from sweat. Yeah, I know it isn't a pretty picture. You'll be fine. Just think of poor Brad.

Second, did I mention I am emotional? It's not like I was an example of level-headedness before. So combine Elin Woods after she found out Tiger was cheating on her, that Single White Female Chick, and any girl in any movie that cries, and you have me. Times ten.

Third, I can't remember anything. For example, I thought of putting that little fact into the blog. Completely forgot until I forgot something else. Yesterday, left my keys in someone else's office. Few weeks ago, locked my keys in my office. My car keys. It was midnight, I had to have someone else take me home. The other day I said to Brad from the other room, "Hey, I was thinking..." Walked into the room he was in (because I hate when people talk to me from another room) and promptly said, "I don't remember what I was going to say". No wonder my sister can't remember my birthday.

So imagine my happiness when we got an offer on our house!!! Yeah, not so much. Imagine my stressed out, sweaty, crying self after we got an offer. What is seriously wrong with me? Oh, yeah, now I remember. Well, we finally came to an agreement and at the end of this month we will only have one housepayment.

Oh, did I mention that I only have 2.5 weeks to pack my house? I should probably go ahead and buy stock in Kleenex. That and Simply Lemonade. That stuff rocks.

Officially Official

Remember how I said I thought Brad was trying to kill me?  I think it's working.  Our house is officially on the market.  For the last 7 days.  I'm 6 months pregnant.  I have a stressful job.  I'm also the least patient person I know. 

So it's official.  I'm going crazy. 

Healing Old Wounds

A long time ago I signed up for the Proverbs31 daily devotional.  It has followed me through two jobs and a lay off.  I wish I could say I'm diligent about reading it, but many days it gets pushed to the back of the email list or ignored completely.  I might skim it and see if it pertains to a struggle for me or I might read it in detail and weep. 

Today was a weep day.  Here is the link if anyone would like to read and get signed up for it.  I highly recommend it.  I'm sure most of you know what the Proverbs 31 verse is about, but I have a memory of a story that make me want to be a better woman, a good mom, an all around better person.  Someone told me of a friend of hers that was very sick and in the hospital.  All her children stood up, one by one, and called her blessed.  I think there is no better compliment.  And I hope to be that kind of mother. 

The article today is talking about "Beauty Wounds".  Wounds that women have received over the years as a result of their appearance.  I'm no stranger to these wounds.  Most women have something that has stuck with them.  And unfortunately mine have always stuck with me.  The worst part is the person who is most to blame has not been a part of my life for some time and I still can't get past them.  They have left me scarred into thinking I am not beautiful. 

I may not be beautiful to that person, but I am to those that matter.  God thinks I'm beautiful, even through all my sins.  My husband thinks I'm beautiful, even through morning hair and morning breath and bad attitudes.  And these should be the only men I strive to please.  The love they give me is enough to sustain me, to build me up, to make me feel complete. 

So today I am going to vow to forget those hurtful words from so long ago and remember they don't matter and never will.  I'm going to focus on the love of my Savior and my husband.  And I'm going to focus on making sure my son or daughter know their beauty isn't on the outside.

21 weeks

Not too much has changed from last week.  I am feeling the baby kick a lot more now which is quite awesome.  For now.  Especially since it doesn't wake me up or hurt yet. 

Until this morning I had gone through my pregnancy not gaining much weight.  At my last appointment I had actually lost weight.  I don't weigh myself too often now but I did this morning just to see where I am.  Holy Canoli!  Overall I've gained about 8 lbs...but 4 of it has been in the last three weeks!  Not good.  I hope this doesn't mean I have to give up french fries. 

Week 20

Now that it isn't a secret, as if anyone could look at me and not know, I've got a few things to say about it. 

First, I've been extremely lucky with a simple pregnancy so far.  Little to no morning sickness, no huge pains, etc.  I do have problems sleeping, but if that is the worst of it I think I will make it.  However, the part that scares me about this is I think if you have an easy pregnancy, you will have a hard delivery.  How do I know this?  I just do.  It's like how I know I'm awesome.  Some things you just can't argue with.  Except my grammar.

At week 20 here is what I've come to expect.

• I can make crying on command into a sport.  Honestly, while eating breakfast I had to fight tears during the news about 5 times. I believe the topic was the weather.  And the Chief of Police candidate.
• given how much people have problems with constipation, and how much I don't want that, I'm thankful I don't have that problem yet.  I know, way too much TMI
• on that same note...they say the first feelings of the baby can feel like gas.  Hello...do you even know me?  If I have to rely on that feeling I'll never know what is baby and what is just my normal colon.  However, I am positive I've felt him/her.
• Not finding out the sex does make it hard to plan.  But it does irritate many relatives so we have an added bonus.
• You really do get used to random people touching you.  I really mean at the doctor's office because you have to see so  many different people. (ah, just felt the baby.  He/she likes this post)
• Random people do want to touch your belly.  for people who like to do this...most women do not like to be on the receiving end.  and many pregnant women are not especially happy in general.  Just consider it a fair warning. 
• Stress is a huge factor for me right now and a glass (or four) of wine would be a big help.  oh well.
• I'm halfway through and nowhere near ready.  We've talked about registering...but it's more like, Yeah, we should do that one day.  Kinda like that vacation to Ireland.
• Write down baby names anytime in life you think of a good one.  If you're like me, you'll forget.
• Pregnancy brain is a real condition.
• Night sweats suck.
• Apparently you snore more.  I really refuse to belive this one, but my therapist says I should listen to Brad more often.  I tried putting the pillow over his head so he wouldn't have to hear it. 

And there is my list for this week.  I'm sure it won't change much by next week, but you never know. 

Funky Town

I'm in a funk today.  And I'm not sure why.  I was irritated at my husband because he wouldn't respond to me when I was trying to wake him up.  (really??)  I'm irritated driving in to work because no one drives as well as I do.  Irritated at work.  No explanation necessary.  Irritated at lunch because, really, do these non-drivers just follow me around, watiting for me to get into my car?  I think so. 

Then I get back, sit at my desk and see where Lindsay Lohan had to go to jail.  Suddently I feel better.

17 Again

Yesterday was my birthday and I've been trying to think of what to write for a blog to commemorate.  Thirty-four things about me sounds hard and quite depressing, so we will skip that one for now.  Then I started thinking about movies, for no apparent reason, and said aloud (again, for no apparent reason) "I wonder what I would be missing if I was 17 again".  So let's just see where this takes us.


1.  I wouldn't have a mortgage.  Yeah, this is one of those good things.  Especially right now as we are getting ready to have two of them.  Don't ask.  I'll tell later.  But secretly I think Brad is trying to kill me.

2.  I wouldn't have met Brad yet.  This one I'm on the fence about.  KIDDING!  Well...  Brad and I have been through so much that I really can't remember my life before him.

3.  I wouldn't have experienced college yet and met some of the most amazing friends I could ever imagine.

4.  I wouldn't have been in debt yet (and gotten out).  Another good one. 

5.  I wouldn't have known my own life struggle.  I struggled with a lot of things in high school, but nothing that I couldn't sweep under the rug and pretend wasn't there. 

6.  I wouldn't have gotten close to my brother and sister.

7.  I would still be scared to cut certain people out of my life.

8.  I wouldn't know the true value of family and friends.

9.  I wouldn't know about facebook yet.  Or email, really.  I knew about it, but all my friends were in school with me, what in the world did I need email for?

10.  NO CELL PHONES

11.  I wouldn't have time to read for pleasure.

12.  I think friends you meet as adults are different and better in their own way.

13.  I wouldn't truly know the Lord.

14.  I really wouldn't know responsibility yet. 

15.  I would still get lots of birthday presents. 

I often wonder what I would do differently if I could do it all over again.  For one, I'd study more in college. But at the same time, that was it's own experience.  I lead a very blessed life, one that I really couldn't have imagined at the age of 17.  It makes me wonder what will be different when I'm 50!  I remember thinking 30 was so old when I was 17.  Now I just think anything older than me is old. 

Unanswered Prayers

I've been waiting for awhile to write this blog.  Three years to be exact.  As you know, I've prayed a long time about becoming a mother.  I've wanted it so badly it was almost blinding.  And for three years I had unanswered prayers.  I can see now there was a reason.  God really does know what he is doing.  It's hard for me to admit I am wrong...even in this case. 

Looking back, now I can see I wasn't ready.  Sure, I was 30, 31, 32.  How can I not be ready to be a mom?  There are reasons, and God knew those.  Part of it was that I was never really ready to relinquish control.  Surely if I just try this one thing, it will work.  Well, not always.

I was reading back over my blogs a few weeks ago and came across one I wrote in March of this year.  In it I wrote about submitting to God my feelings, my stress, my hurts, my restlessness.  The timing is interesting.  Because about 2 weeks later, I found out I was expecting.  :)

To any of you who I haven't told personally, I'm truly sorry!  But I just couldn't keep it in anymore!  Sorry for the bad quality of the picture, I couldn't get my scanner to work. 

Say it ain't so!

This is like peanut butter without the jelly.  Like macaroni without the cheese.  Like me without awesome.

A hit square in the gut

I ran across this article today and wanted to share.  I ran across it a day after someone sat in my office and told me he didn't want to stay in North Carolina because we are a racist state.  I couldn't believe it.  I was dumbfounded that he thought we, of all people, are racist.  After all, he went to college in Wisconsin.  Have you been to Wisconsin?  They are about as diverse as Kansas. 

But then I got to thinking, which is always dangerous.  I wonder if he considers me racist.  I wonder if my non-white friends consider my racist.  I say non-white because I want to include anyone outside the general white group.  One of my best friends is black.  We used to work together and I always knew I couldn't keep a secret from her.  She was mad at me at one point and it made me miserable.  We don't talk every day, but I would do anything for her. 

But outside of her, what do I have to show I'm not racist?  I know in my heart I am not.  I know I have no patience for people who are.  I am as judgemental about white people as I am about anyone.  I am usually judgemental about people who dress like this, or people who litter,  or people who ignore their children. 

When Brad and I were talking about adoption, I never assumed I would adopt only a white child.  So it felt like a knife in my gut when he said this.  He was generalizing, obviously, but I consider myself a North Carolinian and I don't want the rest of the world thinking we are all members of an unnamed organization that boasts things that are in no way morally or ethically sound.  The Bible tells us to be our brother's keeper.  I do not think this is supposed to mean only my brother who looks, acts, talks, and thinks like me. 

I know this is an odd post, but racism just really burns my butt.

Fear nothing

Have you noticed that there is always something to fear?  For one of my friends it is birds.  Yes, I think that is completely insane as well.  For another friend, it is the Dentist.  While that one is more understandable, usually the fear dies in childhood.  Or should have.  (sorry friends!)

I've noticed that people form fears at a very young age, often without a reason.  What is it that causes us to be scared?  Some kids, and adults, are afraid of the dark.  I may or may not be one of those.  I'm not so afraid of the dark, but what is chasing me in the dark.  You know, after you go downstairs and turn all the lights off before you go to bed and that thing that is in the dark that wasn't in the light is chasing you up the stairs?  I may or may not know anything about that. 

I'm also afraid of spiders.  Even though I've never been bitten, that I know of.  Actually, there was this one time when I had a huge red spot on my tummy.  I swear it was a spider bite.  But I survived and didn't see it so I have no proof.  But I'm fairly sure a jury would convict that spider of biting in the 1st degree.  I wonder what the statute of limitations is on spider bites? 

I'm afraid of those people with the "Fear Nothing" stickers on their cars or trucks.  Driving close to them is really just waiting to see what they will do.  But they are usually scared.  Or that is what I like to tell myself.  That and that the scary thing chasing me up the stairs will disappear as soon as I hit my bed and that the spider that is above my bed is a figment of my imagination and/or is protecting me from said thing chasing me up the stairs.

A few of my new favorites

Brad just bought me this CD and it has been on repeat ever since.

Eric Hutchinson - Rock and Roll

I got this CD a few months ago and now know every word by heart.  I heart them.

The Avett Brothers

"Where nothing is owed, deserved, or expected.  And your life doesn't change by the man thats elected.  When you're loved by someone you're never rejected.  Decide what to be and go be it."

We're a Happy Family

I've been reading blogs this morning, trying to avoid writing on my own.   A good friend of mine recently told me I was the best avoider she knew.  That is probably true.  I'm not a "it's about me" kinda person.  I am the middle child and I think that suited me well.  I tended to blend in.  I never made problems.  I am the peacemaker in my family.  Not so much in my marriage, however.  :)

I realized I've never spoken about my family on here.  Or not in much detail.  I had an interesting childhood in some ways.  Some ways were completely normal.  School was completely normal.  Home was not.  Don't get me wrong, I still had a good childhood, thanks in large part (heck, thanks completely) to my mother.  I'm not going to get into my childhood.  That is a conversation best left with therapists and husbands.  An interesting side note though:  I was talking to my therapist during a visit and brought up something.  He was completely shocked because I had never mentioned it before, even after more than a year of visits.  Like I said, I'm an avoider. 

As I mentioned, I'm a middle child.  My brother is about 18 months older.  Which was really quite great when we were young.  I spoke really late as a child because my brother spoke for me.  He would kiss me goodbye when he left for kindergarten.  He let me play with his GI Joe's.  Then we got older and I was taller than him for a little bit.  Then I dated his friends.  Neither is good sister behavior. 

My brother grew up without a father figure for the majority of his life.  Which is why I am so incredibly proud of him.  He is such a good dad to his girls.  Poor guy, grew up with three women in the house, still has three women in the house.  We were typical brother and sister.  Fought incessantly.  Fought for the front seat, fought for the back seat.  Whichever the other had, we wanted.  When I would ask him to pass me the rolls at dinner he would lick one before giving it to me.  I used to be upset because I never felt like he would have protected me.  You think of big brothers as the protectors.  Now I realize that #1, I wouldn't have let him, #2, he was just trying to survive himself.  He had to become the man of the house as a preteen.  He had a lot of pressure on him all the time.  And a lot of the time he acted out in ways which I didn't approve.  But he was doing the best he could. Sadly, I've only realized this lately.  And I haven't told him how proud of him I am. 

Tomorrow is Father's Day.  And even though he isn't my father, most days he is the closest thing I had.  I think it is a good day to tell him.

As a side note, when he cuts his hair he is Dale Earnhardt, Jr's doppleganger.

Travel

I'm traveling for work this week.  Of course I am.  If I was traveling for pleasure I can almost assure you I wouldn't be blogging.  Except maybe to tell you how incredibly awesome my trip was. 

I actually like traveling for work.  That is probably because I don't have to do it too often and it is a nice break from the constant stream of complaints interruptions employees.  The one thing I don't like about traveling, however, is the food.  I  know, the company is paying for it, I should have a nice meal.  But I sit here wondering how it can be so much more difficult to have fruits and vegetables away from home.  And why do companies think a continental breakfast is actually a breakfast?  Bagels and pastries are ok, but I want fruit and maybe some oatmeal.  Heck, I'll even take a nice cereal. 

I'm beginning to sound a bit high maintenance.  OR maybe I always have and I'm just now realizing it.  Either way, I'm not.  :)

I promise to post more when I get back.  Maybe.

Randomness

I must confess.  I really like to blog.  I like writing about myself, reading about myself, re-reading about myself.  And I hate it when I don't have much to write.  I lead kind of a boring life.  Honestly.  Work. Home. Bed. Repeat.  In that order, every day.  I know, I'm lazy.  Some of it is my schedule, but that is probably just as much my fault as my boss(es).  But on top of reading about myself, I like to defer blame.  So we are back with it being my boss(es) fault.  Just a few minutes ago I was giving a co-worker a hard time about a horrendous fashion choice he made today.  Honestly.  Horrendous.  With three full syllables.  He said "didn't your parents raise you to know that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything".  To which I promptly replied "you've clearly never met my parents".  See...blame diversion.  I mean, it's true, but still.  Some people just can't handle the awesomeness that is me.  But it is a truly awful shift.  Bright (as in blind you and make you think you have finally found the color of the sun, up close) yellow with large flowers on it.  It's so bad that Hawaiin shirts won't claim it. 

This isn't where I wanted to go when I started this post.  I can easily have conversations with myself, which is why I am so narcisstic.  I keep telling myself how awesome I am.

Brad and I are trying to figure out if we want to move.  Well, if we want to buy a different house.  I don't think anyone truly ever wants to MOVE.  As in, pack up all the crap you haven't used in two years so you can unpack it in another house to do nothing with.  Last time we moved we hired movers.  For anyone who enjoys being married, I highly recommend this.  Men and women shouldn't move together.  Again, referring to the actual act of moving.  Men and men do great.  Women and women do great.  Men and women, not so great.  Men have this inherent ability to know exactly what the other is thinking; this piece of furniture needs to go here, be picked up this way, will take this much momentum to get up the stairs, will make their wife this mad if they break it, etc.  Women know these things as well, but not according to men.  Most women I know are good packers.  I, like my friend Tracey, am a semi-pro packer.  Honestly.  I can pack a car with the best of them.  I can pack a box perfectly.   I can pack a kitchen like nobody's business.  But get me in a room with men during a move and I am inept.  I mean, only in their eyes, but inept nonetheless. 

That all of a sudden made me want to say "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!".  Yes, I am Baby in that scenario.  Actually, I have been told I look like Jennifer Grey (pre-nose job) quite often.  I can't decide if I like that or not. 

This is what peaceful looks like to me

I took a much needed day off work recently.  It was one of the first days of really nice weather.  Most of you probably know, but I'm a windows open kinda girl.  We have been looking a few houses recently and I'm quick to mark off any that don't have screens.  We often sleep with the windows open when the temperature allows.  This could be the reason for my sniffles, but the trade off is fair...I think.  I took a few pictures that I that made smile while I was home.





















Lucy enjoying some rays.  Please ignore all the hair on the floor.










Kitty making sure no one steals our mail. 

I couldn't get one of Maddie that day.  She is adverse to cameras.  The other two ham it up.  Maddie is more like me that way, bashful and ornery!

Not what I was expecting...

I have a few bosses at work.  Yes, more than one.  More than two.  I have three bosses.  If ever there was a way of trying to tell someone they need more supervision....having three bosses is it.  Of course, I am blogging while at work so that could be the issue.  But I am taking a quick break and I rarely take lunches.  I can validate anything.

So I was talking to Boss #2, who I actually really respect and like.  He is almost married to this place though.  Honestly, he gets here at 6:00 AM and doesn't leave before 6:00 PM.  One day last week I was excited because I worked more than he did.  Yes, one day in 8 months.  Anyway...I am the resident candidate entertainer.  When we have a candidate coming in from out of town I have to pick them up, take them to dinner, etc.  It sounds glamorous.  It is not.  It is actually tiring.  It is a good way to interview them, however.  I made the mistake of scheduling two college grads to interview back to back (different days).  This means free dinners and lunches, but long hours. 

Today I had to drop one of the candidates off at 2:30 and pick one up at 5:30.  I was going to go home and rest during that time, but needed to come back to work.  Just a minute ago he came in my office and you do you  know what he had the nerve to tell me??? 

"Wow, you are such a whimp for not going home."

How awesome is that??  I mean, awesome in the sense that he was ok with me going home for a few hours.  Not awesome as in "he called me a whimp and I think he kinda meant it".  At least that is what I'm going with.

Lunchtime Goodies

On my way back from lunch today I saw the following on a church sign:

"True freedom comes from an empty tomb."

Yes, yes it does.

Hear no Evil

A quick email exchange this morning led to this post.  It's probably good too, I was starting to worry about not having light-hearted posts anymore.  As much as I try not to be, I am just too darn sarcastic.  And awesome. 

You know how most people just tell us what they think we want to hear?  Well, I am thinking of things I DON'T like to hear.

1.  The alarm.  Really, does anyone?  And if you comment and say you do, I know you are lying and will no longer be my friend.
2.  Fingernails on a chalkboard.  Have you noticed it isn't as bad if you do it?  So making others hear the awful sound is sometimes worth it.
3.  "I know, but..."  Just say it.  Just say "You're right".  Was that so hard?  I am extremely guilty of this.  But I'm awesome so it is ok. 
4.  "No".  when you mean yes. 
5.  "Yes, dear".  Bullcrap.  Trust me, it doesn't work as much as you think it does.
6.  The TV on when no one is watching.
7.  People who talk just to talk.  It really is ok to have silence.  Of course your talking covers up my under the breath comments.
8.  Woodpeckers on vinyl siding.  If you've never heard it, come on over.  You just have to bring something with you like coffee or wine.  Or both.
9.  When someone says "you probably don't want to go in there".  As in, I just let out last night's bean and spinach burrito. 
10.  On that same note, I basically don't like to hear anyone in the bathroom.
11.  Gum smacking.  I'm a gum chewer, but I can't stand to hear someone smack their gum.  Yes, I'm talking to you.
12.  Anything that has to do with snot NOT coming out of your nose.  You know, those people who make that awful noise that is making me dry heave right now just thinking about it.

I never get tired of hearing how awesome I am though.  Imagine that. 

Sweet Relaxation

Brad and I are kinda in a stressful place right now.  Luckily not with our marriage, but we've got a lot going on, some decisions we need to make, basically just life! 

Last night I was particularly stressed, and I'm not a good stressed out person.  I get cranky (crankier), impatient (more impatient), and all those other bad adjectives.  We went to bed late due to a dog related incident (would anyone like a particularly snuggly and affectionate dog that just happens to shed?) and I just couldn't sleep.  I envisioned myself laying there for hours and then envisioned myself getting up to fold laundry and clean.  Luckily that didn't come to fruition.  So I prayed.  I have to admit, my prayer life is lacking and I wish I was better.  But last night I just prayed for God.  When I pray I rarely ask for things for myself.  Last night I begged for things for myself.  I begged for His guidance, His strength, His mercy and a big whopping dose of His patience. 

And then I felt it.  I felt Him taking over and me allowing it.  I felt myself relax and I was almost immediately asleep.  I woke up this morning and I'm sad to say, I didn't think anything of it.  While driving to work I was struck by it while I was thinking about what my day will hold.  And another peace filled me.  It was amazing to have that peace, just when I needed it.

I've had a favorite benediction since I was a kid.  I get goosebumps everytime it is said in church.  I give it to all of you today.

The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Numbers 6:24-26 ESV

Why I love my job today

I love my job today because they have given me tickets to the ACC tournament.  Just for today's afternoon games, but that is enough to make me ecstatic and Brad jealous. 

Seems that sometimes upper managment doesn't forget about everyone else!

Go Heels!!!  Please don't lose.

Bittersweet memories

I have a wonderful sister in law (Brad's sister).  I don't talk about her much on here because I am selfish.  But today is her birthday (yes, only 4 days after Brad's), yesterday was her daughter's birthday and today is one of her son's birthdays.  I guess at the point when you start having kids it is ok to have birthdays close to or the same as your children.  At least that way you are guaranteed cake and presents, even if they aren't for you.

I used to think my sister in law didn't like me.  I was very nervous around her, which could be why I broke a piece of her stemware.  She just seems so...perfect.  She is raising 4 extremely well behaved boys.  She homeschools them.  She cooks dinner (I can't even do this and there is only two of us).  She finds time to do things I can only dream about.  And she is so stinking smart. 

You may notice that I mentioned her daughter's birthday and that she was raising 4 boys.  Her daughter would have been 14 now, if the tumor had not taken her too early.  She would be texting her friends, reading so many books, brushing her long dark hair.  She would be having crushes, singing along to songs on the radio.  She would be fighting with her brothers, and probably her parents.  She would be reading about God, instead of being in Heaven.  She would be talking about what she wants to be when she grows up.  She would be beautiful. 

Caroline was a stronger Christian at three than I am at 33.  Her love was so pure you couldn't mistake it.  And her smile and giggle so contagious I catch myself smiling now, just thinking of her.  Even if she isn't here, she still brings joy. 

My heart goes out to her parents and brothers right now.  None of her brothers got to meet her, but they all know her.  While the memories of Caroline are too few, they are strong enough to last a lifetime. 

I have a Goal

We are starting a Biggest Loser contest at work Monday.  I am competing.  The contest runs for 10 weeks and I'm not sure what is a healthy goal.  I would like to lose about 30 lbs total (not in 10 weeks).  Can anyone tell me what a realistic goal should be for the contest? 

Let me count the ways...

Most of you know Brad's birthday was Thursday.  He turned older than he would probably like to admit, but he is still older than me.  ;)  I've had the honor of being in his life for 14 years now.  Brad and I have been through a lot and I'm actually thankful for that.  I'm thankful to know that we didn't take the easy way out and I know we can make it through anything. 

I often comment to Brad that I wish he could understand how much I feel when I tell him I love him.  Not the times when we are hanging up the phone, but when I feel it so deep in my heart that I can't think of anything else to say to him.  Due to my lack of words with him, I thought I would give you faithful readers a few of the reasons I think Brad is awesome. 

 1.  Have you seen him?  He is hot.
 2.  He is my personal electric blanket at night.
 3.  He can make a really good fire.
 4.  He is a great cook.
 5.  He makes sure my car is functioning properly.
 6.  When he sits beside me on the couch he always lets me prop my feet on him.
 7.  He is passionate about the things he loves and he wants to share them with those that mean the most to him.
 8.  He lets me go to bed at 10:00.
 9.  As much as I hate to admit it, I know he will eventually let me get my way...on most things.
10. I trust him completely.
11. I love it when he holds my hand, even if just for a minute. 
12. He will give me a compliment just when I need it...like when I'm complaining about the size of my butt.
13. I love to hear him play music and sing.
14. I love that he has salt and pepper hair.
15. I love his mischeivious smile.  But I know I usually don't want to know what he is thinking when I see that smile.
16. He is an amazing handyman.  He can fix anything.
17. He showed me grace.  And he continues to show me grace.
18. He taught me how to love. 
19. He is a good man.  An amazing man. 
20. I can't imagine my life without him. 

I'm afraid this post doesn't do him justice.  But it does have one really long list so that makes me happy!

Mama said there'd be days like this

Actually, she didn't, but I wish she had.  One of my friends uses song titles as the titles for all her blog posts.  I think that is a great idea, I stole it from her today (not the title, but the idea).

Today is a crappy day.  There is just no other way to say it.  C.R.A.P.P.Y.  And it's only 9:00.  Yesterday I played with the idea of taking a vacation day today.  God put that reason in my head for a reason.  He knew I would think it was a crappy day.  But me, being the person I am, decided I shouldn't waste it. 

Go ahead, you know you want to say it.  Here, I'll say it with you.  

IDIOT.

Sometimes I wonder if what I have done is so bad.  Most days I know it is, but all days I know that regardless what I have done, He is not punishing me.  Even if I think it feels that way. 

I'm not trying to illicit pity.  But if you want to shower me with gifts, chocolates, and flowers, who am I to stop you.  No, really, I won't stop you.  Honestly. 

But there are some days I just want to feel like a normal person.  And the things I want are normal.  I want to be a mom.  I want to pick up my own screaming child and console them.  I want to be the one that they want when they are sick.  I want to be a better wife.  The one my husband deserves.  I want to have a smaller butt. 

I think it is hard for people to truly empathize with the issues of others.  As much as we try, we cannot.

And believe it or not, I am truly happy for my friends that have the things I want.  I don't look at them and harbor jealous thoughts.  But today, I just want to be happy for me.  And I'm not there yet, but I'm hoping.

Small one before a bigger one

I've been intimidated by the next post I want to write...so like any good person, I'm procrastinating.  Please don't have any illusions of grandeur, after all it is just me.

To pass the time, I thought I would tell you something about my first baby, Maddie.  We've had Maddie for almost 13 years, adopted her when she was a puppy.  She is an ornery old lady, but we love her.  I took her to the vet yesterday for a check up.  The vet said she was one of the healthiest 90 year olds he's ever met.  We know it will be a very difficult day when we have to say goodbye.  However, there are times that she tries to change my mind about that.

Case in point, yesterday.  I had five $1 bills in my purse.  They were in my purse because I was too busy (read:  too lazy) to put them in my wallet.  Today I had four $1 bills in my purse.  I found my purse turned over with many contents removed, including the dollar bills.  Sadly, it isn't the first time.  But last time it was a $20 dollar bill and it only had teeth marks in it.

Maddie decided it would be fun to see how money tasted.  I'm betting not great, but apparently better than the $20 bill.

My first riddle

What do you get when you have too many days of snow/rain/sleet?  A wet ground.

What do you get when said wet ground no longer allows the drainage spout to move water away from the house?  A clogged drainage spout.

What do you get when said clogged drainage spout has no where to put the tons of water still coming down?  Water in your heating ducts.  (don't ask me how that happens)

What do you get when said water in heating ducts is in said heating ducts?  A funny noise that sounds like there is lava gurgling inside your walls whenever the heat turns on.

What do you get when you realize the problem is too much rain/sleet/snow, a wet ground, a clogged drainage spout, water backed up into heating ducts, and the gurgling effect?

A husband who is a good sport about having his picture taken while his wife has been indiscreetly laughing at the amount of mud flying from clearing the clogged drainage spout. 

Peace and Quiet

I decided to be a good wife and listen to my husband for once. It is snowing today and instead of putting my job before myself, I decided to go in late. Actually, it was only after my boss called me and told me to go in late that I decided it was ok.

So I'm sitting in my kitchen diligently working. My dogs are standing beside me, diligently whining. Incessantly whining. Holy crap why are they whining so much? PLEASE STOP THE WHINING! And if it isn't the whining they are walking underneath my legs, back and forth, back and forth. Honestly, I wonder if people are ever committed for this level of insanity.

I let them outside (they LOVE the snow). I let them inside (they love the heat). I strongly discourage them from whining. Just go lay down! There are beds all over the house for nap taking - do what you do all day when we aren't here.

Then it hit me...they just want to be close to me. So I went downstairs, got two beds and within seconds, this was the result.

 

It's nice to be right.  But it is better to be loved.

Accountability-ish

One of my best friends asked me to go all Jillian Michaels on her. I admit, I have failed at that. But it was fun for a day or two. So now I need that bit of accountability. Not to keep her in line, she has too much self-motivation, but for me!

For Christmas Brad bought me the Wii Active. I loved it...at first. Then about 10 minutes later it was more of a love/hate relationship. The next day was all hate. But I tried to stick with it and did well for a few weeks (read: over a week). Then I worked third shift and used that for all my excuses to not do anything. And I mean anything. I also blame no coffee for a week, but I'm trying to move past it.

I have a rekindled love with Wii Active. I'm going to give it another shot. So I need you guys (ok, you two) to keep me accountable.

The Silver Lining

I have realized there is a silver lining to working 3rd shift. For starters, email doesn't rule your day. You have all your emails ready for you when you get in. You can reply to each one without having to worry about what is coming into your mailbox next. Also, there are much fewer interruptions. You can actually complete a task. Novel idea, I know. And most importantly, those people who you don't really like but you have to be nice to because you are in HR, they aren't here.

Nights are for...

I am working 3rd shift this week. Yes, I am tired. Yes, I have a new-found respect for people who work 3rd shift. Yes, I realize I am only on night #2. Yes, it does suck.

I've realized how good I have it. Sure, I work more hours than I should, but at the end of it I get to come home and eat, clean, do whatever I want. Ususally eat. Always eat.

Regardless, I have tried to think of things Nights are for...besides working.

*Sleeping (oh, how I miss my bed)
*Watching TV. I don't even do this much, but I could, and that is the point.
*Dreaming (while sleeping)
*Snuggling on the couch
*Reading (things other than email)
*Going out to dinner
*Calling friends
*Sleeping
*Late-night Target runs
*Letting your dog jump up on the bed with you before your husband joins. I really do this so his side of the bed will be warm when he gets in. See, I'm sweet like that.
*And sleeping.

I'm sure there are tons I am forgetting, but I'm tired and surprised I can even get that many out. I also think I should change the name of my blog to www.listymclisterson.blogspot.com. Apparently I have a thing for lists...and sleeping.

You know how I know...

Let me preface this by saying I love my husband. But he is, well...kinda girlie. Not girlie as in "ohhh, lets watch a romantic comedy tonight" or "I need to go to the bathroom, want to go too?" (ladies, you know we have all done that). He is girlie in a stranger sense of the word. I ask him if I look ok, if I match...and I trust him when he says no. He is a much better cook than I am. He is a MUCH better dresser than I am. He loves to shop. L.O.V.E.S. to shop. Grocery store, Home Depot, TJMaxx, doesn't really matter. I hate to shop. So often times he will say something particularly girlie, like "you know, the Backstreet Boys weren't so bad". Kidding. He would never say that. But he will occasionally make comments that illicit that completely inappropriate comment from me..."you know how I know you're gay". It's horrible, I know. And I've tried to stop. But sometimes I can't help myself.

Well, in honor of my extremely masculine and hot husband, "you know how I know"...I'm old?

1. Sleeping in a king size bed doesn't really sound like a bad idea anymore.
2. I no longer make my plans for New Year's Eve in April, right after spring break. I'm lucky to make plans at all.
3. Things really do creak when I stand up.
4. It is difficult not to let out a slight 'grunt' (for lack of a better word) when I stand up.
5. It is sometimes difficult to hold in a fart.
6. I would rather bring my lunch than go out to eat.
7. I no longer get lots of Christmas presents.
8. Birthdays kinda suck.
9. The majority of my decisions are based on what time I can go to bed.
10. I wonder what the hell the radio stations are playing and who the heck listens to that crap.
11. 90's music is on the Oldies station.
12. The teenage stars of our youth are either in rehab, play someone's mom/dad on tv, or are a cashier at the local grocery store.
13. I worry about how much fiber I get (this could be the cause of #5).
14. I no longer get carded.
15. People call me...ma'am.
16. I OFTEN forget my age.
17. I own and have used a crock pot.
18. I can understand what my mother is talking about.

It's a sad day. If the first step is admitting a I have a problem and the first stage is denial, then I don't know what the heck you are talking about, I am not old and will go out every night for the next week to prove it. That is where the I see the problem.

I think my blog has issues

Blogspot has this nifty fun thing that allows you to choose "next blog" to see blogs that are similar to yours, or they think you would like. Everytime I do this (read: everytime I am bored) I get blogs that revolve around animals.

I can't help it if I talk about my animals too much. They are cute, they are funny, they love me. Wow, it sounds like I'm describing myself! Next up...the narcisstic blog.

Don't ever lend me your shoes

Have any of you ever seen that movie "In Her Shoes"? Have I ever mentioned that I hate that movie? Don't get me wrong, it's a good enough movie, but I just get very angry every time I see it. I read the book and that also make me irate. Sorry, that was a tangent.

Anyone who knows me knows I am a klutz. Honestly. If it can be broken, cut, tripped over, ruined, burned, you get the picture, I will do it. I used to work at a Hospital and we had these green bracelets for patients that were fall hazards. I was given one. It was probably a good move.

Just a few examples of clumsiness:

-I broke my sister-in-law's stemware one Thanksgiving by filling it with ice.
-I fell up the stairs the other night with a glass of wine in my hand. By the end of the fall it was no longer in my hand. My favorite Carolina shirt is now stained.
-I took the light bulb out of the fridge today because it was burned out. It proceeded to hit my hand, the shelf, my hand, the next shelf, my hand, the bottom of the fridge, my leg, the floor. It then proceeded to shatter...after all that.
-I fell down the stairs for no good reason last night. (notice how recent all these are, and yes, completely sober)
-I often trip over my dogs.
-And finally, I actually fell down the stairs the other night (a different time) and broke my shoe. Yes, I actually broke a shoe.

So do you remember in the movie when she is in the car with her fiance and she is talking with her shoe. I could have done that, except the bottom of the shoe was on the stairs and the rest of the shoe was still on my foot. And it was my only pair of black boots that would have worked with those jeans. Sad day.

I'm sure the two of you who read this have examples of my clumsiness. Feel free to keep it to yourselves.