Let's Get to the 25th Already!

Hi, my name is Melissa, and I was hiding from my kids on the stairs scrolling Instagram.

Monday and Tuesday were filled with moments of discipline for each child as 1) it won't stop raining and 2) that makes for a lot of togetherness and 3) children like to antagonize and 4) it was an amateur move to try to wrap presents for others while supervising children.  I wrapped about four in the space of four hours.

We have made it to December 23rd.  We are coloring and snacking and movie-watching and paper roll sword playing and I'm in a better place.

Presents wrapped, house cleanish, clothes washed, Santa gifts on-go to assemble.

Now we are twiddling our thumbs, ready for the big day.

Here's a hodgepodge of holiday goodness and fun finds for your time off:


Man in the High Castle on Amazon streaming
This is sci-fi intrigue set in post-war 1960s America in an alternate reality in which the Allies lost WWII and the United States is ruled by Germany and Japan. I don't know where to start here: you can watch it as a couple; each character is multi-faceted and more keeps being revealed; it plays with reality and feels a bit like Lost as it presents possible outcomes and a blurry line between the natural and supernatural. Plus the lead character is really cute and I like his hair. So he's a Nazi. He has Resistance leanings due to meeting a love interest/new Resistance member. And I'm betting he's Hitler's son. We are hooked and eagerly awaiting Season 2.

My daughters in their Christmas program












  Shameless Overshare 

Our Christmas Letter


2015 At a Glance

It’s always a bit baffling to reach the end of another year at what seems like a breakneck speed.  2015 has been a year of new adventures for our family.  This summer, Alex, in a true act of Dad heroism, took us to Disney World for five sweaty, tiring, but absolutely memorable days.  We visited each park and dined with princesses, kissed Mickey, and rode our fair share off iconic rides. I’m a self-proclaimed sucker for all things Disney and am campaigning for a return to Orlando for a certain young man’s eighth birthday.  In October, we had another amazing experience traveling to Europe following a work conference Alex was selected to attend in Flims, Switzerland.  Our parents each took turns manning the battle stations on the home front with the kids so I could join Alex for four days in Paris and on to Amsterdam to meet up with an old friend of Alex’s and stay with his family.  It was everything we could have hoped for in an overseas trip-- beautiful scenery, delicious food, unexpected discoveries, and best of all, time together and with friends. I’ve said it was once-in-a-lifetime, but I’m hoping we’ll push ourselves to travel more as the children grow older.

The kids are now 7, 5, and 3 respectively. Jeremiah is a first grader in an autism classroom.  He is an affectionate, loving young man who likes to draw, print, bike, and play on his IPAD.  Sometimes his noisy sisters overwhelm his ears, but he is the first to give a hug when needed.  His mom (without any overstatement) is his #1 fan and as for Dad, Jeremiah adores him beyond good sense.

Sarah is going on 6 this January and bounds into a room with energy and sparkle.  She is in Kindergarten at brother’s school and brims over with new information.  She loves fashion and crafts.  Frequently, she helps Mom create new desserts to try.  We call her our cruise director and believe she is the most lovely 5-year-old in existence (all apologies).

Our youngest, Rachel, is the family mascot. 100 percent sass, this little girl selects her outfits (as there are several changes) daily, complete with accessories and makeup-- no lip balm, but red lipstick, please.  Not much makes her mom happier than taming her bedraggled hair with a bow and acting as consultant on her sartorial choices. Rachel tolerates too many hugs and kisses and longs to be “like Sarah” in all things, especially big kid school.  As her middle name suggests, she is an absolute joy.

As for us adults, Alex continues to work as a Programmer at Silvervine Systems.  His team indicated to me that he is the Eeyore of the group as he is on the look-out for potential problems that could arise in any project.  He is a wonderful father to our kids and a supporter in all ways to me as his wife.  I’m very proud of him.

I’ve renewed my contract for my 8th year as an at-home Mom and though each year brings changes to my role, I’m enjoying this new stage.  I’ve become more involved in the kids’ school, and work with 8th grade girls Sunday school--whom I constantly admonish to be nice to their mothers--as well as teach choir to Rachel’s age group.  I blog, attend bible study and a Mom’s group, keep the domestic wheels running, and think wistfully about exercise as I either read or binge Netflix in my off-duty time. We just ordered an elliptical machine, so hello, New Year’s Resolutions!

In closing, we are just plain thankful to have you in our lives and pray this Christmas season and the new year to come are marked by the greatest of these: love. 

*

And from Ann Voskamp's Unwrapping the Greatest Gift  December 23rd reading:

"He came as a Baby because He was done with barriers. He disarmed himself so that you could take Him in your arms.  God came as a Baby because he wants to be unimaginably close to you. What God ever came so tender that we could touch Him? So fragile we could break Him? Only the One who loves you to death. Only the God who had to come to get you, to free you, to be with you....
Christmas isn't about getting something big and shiny. It's about God's doing whatever it takes to be with us-- and our doing whatever it takes to be with Him. (emphasis mine)

He doesn't care if your list is checked or your halls are decked.  He doesn't care if you've spent 25 days preparing your heart or  a lifetime far away from Him.  He cares about you, about us.
He made a way for us, by his righteousness alone.  Isn't that really the best news?  I get swept along in the craziness each year, and I always arrive back to wonder seated in our Christmas Eve service--  Son of God, Love's Pure Light.

Merry, merry Christmas, dear friends.

Sending Christmas Cards in 50 Simple Steps

I just sent my second batch of Christmas cards.  I placed them on my lap as I pulled up to the post office box and took a picture.  I was about the ponder filters when I realized there was a nice lady waiting patiently behind my car.

I'm having a little sit-down with myself about this, promise.

I started to back-track all the steps I've taken to send these cards, and I present them below for your amusement.

1. Realize it's Fall and High Season for family pictures.
2. Float the idea casually to my husband.
3. Husband readily concedes as he knows this is a lost cause.
4. Price out photography sessions.
5. Contact photographer.
6. Set date.
7. Ponder family attire.
8. Go to Target for "some things".
9. Reschedule session due to weather.
10. Take pictures on a weekday afternoon, i.e. Get kids home, fed snack, repair hair, and clothe in subtle autumnal finery--dressy casual, natch.
11.  Curl hair, allow for last minute scarf debate, ponder options for best figure enhancement.  Don boots and big earrings.
12. Iron two options for Dad's shirt.  Iron son's shirt and daughter's dress.
13.  Meet Dad at a park and present shirt choices.  Realize this is a bit much.
13. Smile pretty.
14. Encourage children to smile pretty.
15. Promise playground time for smiling pretty.
16. Snag one last shot just-in-case.  We always need just-in-case.
17. Play on playground.
18.  Bribe anxious child with donuts and a promise to come back to park later.
19. Fall out on the couch upon arriving at home.
20. Wait 2 weeks for proofs.
21.  Wait an extra day for proofs as photographer's site is down.
22.  Drive to pick up CD of finished portraits to get them in my hot hand right now.
23.  Obsessively look at sun lit pictures of my offspring like the loon I am.
24.  Debate over posting offspring's pictures.
25. Post offspring's pictures.
26. Begin card hunt.
27. Find groupon and order cards.
28. Wait for cards.
29. Receive cards.
30.  Frame card.
31.  Find inspiration and deep dive into my OneDrive for all family pictures from Christmas 2008 forward.
32.  Order said pictures.
33. Order best sibling picture on canvas.
34. Realize it's time to send the cards.
35. Send husband out for pretty stamps.
36. Address and write a personalized note on batch one to my girls' life group.
37. Realize a year in review letter might be nice.
38.  Write year in review letter seeking to strike a tone between earnest, self-deprecating, and humorous.
39. Proofread and feel optimistic about tone.
40. Select pretty pens and address second batch of cards.
41. Sign letters.
42. Write personalized notes on cards.
43. Stamp and seal.
44. Drive to post office and drop off.
45. Take obnoxious picture.
46. Chuckle at myself.
47.  Count up the money I've spent on cards that may stay on a mantle for 2 weeks and quickly shove such practical thoughts aside.
48. Realize this is good blog material.
49. Blog and import obnoxious picture.
50. Post blog to minister to any woman who embraces the lengths we go to as Good Will Ambassadors for our families.

The End.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

This December

Because it's the kind of day where I dug out the emergency set of back-up clothes from my son's backpack because everything else is dirty.

Because last night we spent 45 minutes in tears over the last bite of a hot dog with my daughter.  Making a point over a hot dog, yup, totally dumb.  But we're gonna learn simple obedience.  If we demand our way, we will learn consequences.  Yes, ma'am, we will.

Because I got little sleep heading into a Monday back from a holiday and by 5 p.m. squabbles, I made a NO CHIPS proclamation because snack-sized chips are for LUNCHES  and THIS IS FOOLISHNESS and I WON'T BUY THEM ANYMORE.  Then I threw my hairbrush on the ground.  Had a fit.  I can be a real delight, sometimes.

Because I spent a half hour explaining that we can wear our princess dress at home and to the store and most places, but it's not fair to the other little girls to wear it to preschool.  So I laid out three outfit choices (dresses only, naturally) to be worn after the princess dress to school.

Because everyone in the house has been sick at some point in the last two weeks.

Because the sink is overflowing.

Because why, oh why, am I sweating on the first day of December?

Because I have 7 highly trained, amazing professionals in my children's lives that I want to honor with a thoughtful gift, and I haven't a clue.

Because sometimes we say thoughtless things to the ones we love the most.

Because I've gained a new rock to carry around in my pack, and I'm weary of it.  If I talk about body image one more time, my own eyes will roll up in my head because I'm exhausting to myself.

Because we have enough of everything that my biggest problems are my excess.

Because a full calendar might cause stress, but it means I have somewhere to go.

Because it's Christmas.

I'm ready.

For peace in the swirling chaos.  Hope in the noise.  Love without conditions.

For Advent.

Dare I Name It? Is This Contentment?

Nay, even joy?

It might be the recent week-long vacation (okay, very probably) that has lead to a slower November, but in a group discussion on stress yesterday, I realized that my stressors didn't feel so overwhelming.  The grind and hustle didn't feel so burdensome, and if I had to list out what really stressed me and caused worry, it was things to come in the future.

What is the best schooling option for Jeremiah? 
If it's not local, would a long-term move be worth it? How would affect the family as a whole?
Is our family complete?  If so, am I okay with that?  If not, am I okay with the unknown? 
Do I want to /will I go back to work?  What would that look like? When would I do that?
How do I enjoy this season without looking behind or too far ahead?

Lots of questions I'd venture to guess roll around in minds of many women.  (Men everywhere, and by that I mean the two or three male relatives that read this blog: You're most welcome for the female mind's inner workings.)

Very important things with long reaching implications.  But, today, I'm content with it.  Me, with my regular Regis Philbin freak-outs.  Am okay with it.

My youngest daughter does this thing where she caresses my cheek when she's trying to be extra adorable.  It helps if this is done immediately after, to be colloquial, pooping in her underwear.  I threaten to "call the Doctor to give her yucky medicine," but I think be both know that's a game we're playing and she's winning.  Today she wore a pink tutu over her leggings and a Frozen t-shirt paired with sparkly Mary Janes and accessorized that with an Elsa side braid.  I get to hug and kiss her approximately 87 times a day and I just can't even with all the joy she brings me.

My older daughter is going through a lot of huffing and puffing about obedience and respect to Mom and Dad.  Send her to her room or turn off the television without her express written consent and she's dying a thousand deaths.  But then, she's the one who greeted me the morning we returned from our trip with such heartfelt emotion.  She was glad her parents were home.  She thanks God for all the love we have today and feels things so intensely.  Somehow, she belongs to me for a short while.

And my Jeremiah.  Oh my word.  He is such a rascal.  Will he set off the alarm at 7 a.m. because well, it's morning and time to go?  Yes.  Sneak into the all my hiding places for candy or sugary drinks or a toy?  Yes.  Do I have to keep after him about remembering to flush/put on underwear/bring along his IPad/not shut the door eleventy-billion times when someone leaves the room for a moment? YES.  But we played ball this morning.  He made so much eye contact.  He enjoys lots of hugs and kisses in the morning and after school.  He asked the girls to watch him make the Toca Boca doctor game on the IPad toot so they could all giggle.  He told his Dad, "NO! It's not time for supper," when I called everyone to eat.  He is a seven-year-old boy. Full stop.  Looking back, a lot of parenting him has been trail by fire.  We've come to a place where it is not.  (Hallelujah and amen.)

I notice that I've not said anything about the leader of this family (oh, I said it!  I'm so hopelessly backwards or refreshingly honest.  You pick.)   But basically, we can disagree about political or theological viewpoints, sure, but we can also be together, non-stop, no breaks, for a week and find this a good thing.  We can have a once-in-a-lifetime week abroad and then hit Sam's Club the next Saturday for a very enjoyable date night.   He will also turn off a football game (not a Georgia one, but still) and offer to watch one of my movies.  Basically: keeper.

What I'm saying is that joy and contentment are not the absence of struggle or pain or worry. 

It's noticing what comes from and through it. 

Today, I'm just able to notice.

We're *Sortie* 5000

I thought about blogging again from our trip, but I was too tired.  We kept a pretty fast pace and our sore legs were pretty pitiful after Paris.  After our day at the Louvre, we hit the Eiffel Tower and from there, braved the Metro system so we could explore more neighborhoods without falling flat out dead.  So many lovely memories...We tried a cafe on the Rue du Cler (thanks, Kate... the food and service were the best we had!) and it was a Saturday, market day.  I popped into a specialty food store and loaded up on candies as I never knew when I'd find good treats and gifts next.  We took the Metro to the Rue du Francs Bourgeois, where I'd read had fun shopping.  We found a perfume shop and I got gifts and we later stopped at a pastry shop for a chocolate mousse type cake and homemade marshmallows.  The city is by far the most cosmopolitan I've visited. New York City is amazing, but it can't hold a candle to the city's ancient history and sheer vastness.  We loved it.  We loved the cafes and the "Parisian fast food" that was like Panera, but way better.  We could eat a fresh mozzarella and tomato sandwich with dessert and drink for about 8 euro.  

Our last full day was spent travelling to Versailles.  The town is beautiful, with tree lined streets leading to the palace.  We had a loooong wait to enter, and by our last day, we'd hit antiquity overload.  We saw a cool exhibition commemorating the 300th anniversary of King Louis XIV's death.  It tied into the macabre theme of Halloween with a recreation of the state funeral.  We also toured the royal apartments, but again, it was old painting/old painting/sculpture of a famous guy/fancy bedroom/old painting/there's a nice chair/ooh, the hall of mirrors is nice/done.  As a sidenote, sortie is the French word for "exit" and it was everywhere on the signage.   We had big fun "sortie-ing" all over Paris.  Our last day was a Sunday, so most shops were closed in the city that morning, but by afternoon, many had opened.  We grabbed one more round of souvenirs and headed home to pack up for Amsterdam.

Our flight was supposed to be at 8 a.m., but was cancelled overnight due to fog and WE DIDN'T CHECK OUR EMAIL BEFORE LEAVING THE HOTEL.  I'm not sure why the airline didn't automatically re-book, but we had a series of hassles getting out of Paris.  We had a full day in the airport due to fog which really thrilled Alex.  He's a super patient guy when it comes to inefficiency. We finally made it out and met Alex's good friend Maurice that evening, who took us to his home where he reheated the traditional Dutch meal he had prepared and we enjoyed a nice visit. 

The next two days included a tour of the city, a canal ride, a visit to the Anne Frank house, the Rijks museum, and a bike ride to the nearby village with working windmills.  Maurice and his wife, Laura, welcomed us into their home like family.  They have three little girls who absolutely charmed us, and I will consider them my new Dutch nieces.  We met their mother and father, close friends, sister and brother and niece!  It was very special to me, especially because Maurice and his father expressed their appreciation for the welcome Maurice received as an exchange student at Alex's high school.  I've heard it said that women measure happiness based on the quality of their relationships and that men "only" need a wife and a best friend to have their relational basics met.  So to see these old friends pick up where they left off, from different countries with different political and philosophical viewpoints, but with so much mutual respect and shared experiences as husbands and fathers... well.  It made my heart very happy.

We really got to experience more than a tourist's perspective of life in the Netherlands.  We could be at the train station in 5 minutes, and the family could bike to most of their errands.  We biked to the windmills and I had to ride the 10 year old's bike (hanging head).  I reminded everyone that I had not biked with any regularity in about 15 years, so let's all be cool.  Note to self:  Let's work on personal fitness for our mind-body-spirit well-being and not worry so much about scales and labels.  

And the FOOD.  If it's possible, we ate even better in Amsterdam!  Maurice and Laura introduced us to what they just call "gourmet," a meal resembling hibachi.   They put a big electric griddle on the table, and set out plates of steak, ground beef, pork, breaded chicken, bacon, and cut up vegetables.  We dropped herbed butter on the griddle and cooked up batches of food as we talked and snacked on the bread and spreads.  If that wasn't enough, Laura kept us fed and watered while watching soccer, pulling out yummy snacks and even introducing us to Bugles (the snack) filled with soft cheese.  GENIUS.  

We flew home Thursday, fat and happy and tired, watching movie after movie, having food and drink offered at regular intervals to keep us from mutiny in the skies, I suppose.  For our 10 hour flight, we were given a full hot lunch, including dessert, a snack box with olives, cheeses and mousse and then another hot sandwich and ice cream.  It was kinda over-the-top, but with nothing to do but sit and stare, we lived up to our American birthright and ATE.

We took a lot away from the trip personally.  I realized how very isolated America can feel from the rest of the world, all wrapped up in my comfortable suburban life.  World events and political unrest seemed more pressing to the people we visited.  Alex and I both had lots of time to be silly and talk about more than the day's bullet points.  We planned and dreamed.  We really like each other.  We want to broaden our children's perspectives and show them a larger world, too.

In a nutshell?   Trip of a lifetime, definitely.  

Flat out exhausted at the Arc d' Triomphe

        One of the many canal bridges

Alex and Maurice

It's Where Rhett Bought Scarlett's Hat

Our European adventure is underway!  I flew into Paris early Thursday morning (2:30 stateside) and met up with Alex at the airport.  He was over in Switzerland the previous week for a work conference which was the impetus for our extending his time overseas and my joining him. 

Random observations about the Charles de Gaulle airport:  There is plenty of English signage and I had no trouble finding my way out. The bathroom stalls are excellent.  The door goes completely to the floor, no gaping crack for lookie-loos, and secure locks.   French toilets: two thumbs up.  Finding public toilets once out and about in Paris-- a bit more tricky.  Those are my bathroom thoughts.  I hope they are edifying to your day and life.

We took a cab into the city and remarked that a Parisian cloudy day looks suspiciously like an American one.  Construction looks like construction, and people, well, look like people.
Folks is folks and #ItsASmallWorldAfterAll.  

Our hotel.  Is Awesome.  We are staying on the Rue du Paix in the Opera district at the Park Hyatt Vendome.  It is a financial district and houses several famous jewelers.  All I knew before we got here is it's the street where Rhett bought Scarlett the bonnet that she tied on backwards as I like to make cross-cultural associations.

Because I married The Points Master, we are staying in a 5 star hotel solely on points.  When we entered the hotel, we were immediately greeted in English and ushered into a reception area.  It felt like a warm cocoon for the dum-dum American traveler who doesn't speak the language. The place is all white marble floors and orchids and soft lighting. As we arrived hours before check-in time, we were offered complimentary refreshments and I was reminded how amazing fresh pressed orange juice is.  Is is a simple pleasure I need in my life from now on.

The food? As exquisite as you've been lead to believe.  The architecture?  As grand as you'd imagine.  Gold leaf statues and scroll work everywhere.  And the amorous behavior the city boasts?  Yes.  Lots of the double cheek greeting and the slow-in-public-making-out-ing. (Not us, people.)  A street hustler who hustled me into "holding a knot" engaged me in conversation and before I realized it, I had the great fortune to buy a 10 euro "love knot" bracelet--basically one of those penny string bracelets girls made in grade school. He asked how many babies I had and if we were going to "get crazy" at the discotheques and in our room later.  Erm.  No.  I will be sleeping from jet lag.  But thank you, stranger, for inquiring! 

I guess if you eat, live and recreate in such an atmosphere, you generally feel good about life.

We later ate at our first cafe and I had  a wonderful Croque Madame and a ridiculous chocolate mousse that was almost the consistency of frosting, but much tastier.  We finally were able to check in and I tried not to fall asleep sitting upright waiting for our bags to be brought up.  After getting some sleep-of-the-dead, we played with our room's amenities.  It has a button to automatically raise the window's shutters and a luxurious bath, so are are set.  The soaps and lotions in the room are lovely as well.  To top it off, we received complementary macaroons at check-in and they will be a new favorite.

Today was our first full day and we made the most of it.  Our first stop was the Louvre.  My high school Humanities class and lifelong membership on a Sunday School roll helped me have a greater appreciation for the grand scale paintings and sculptures we saw.  Many were religious scenes--the largest paining in the entire museum is a full scale depiction of the Wedding of Cana, Jesus' first recorded miracle.  The docent I overheard said the painting's measurements were larger that his entire flat!  We did see the Mona Lisa, but honestly, I was more impressed by the large scale frescoes and paintings we saw.  We spent several hours there today, and by the time we left, it was all this is a piece of art made by some famous guy about some famous thing in history a long time ago. Moving on.

We definitely have had fun amongst ourselves donning exaggerated redneck speak--referencing a shocking lack of sophistication per Jeff Foxworthy.  We ate at another cafe; I had the special of cabornara and the tarte tarin (apple tart).  Coupled with the chocolate pastry I had this morning, all I can do is lift up holy hands in thanks and try to skip a big dinner.

We toured the bottom floor of Notre Dame, which is still a working place of worship.  We didn't want stand in line and pay extra to tour the towers, so we walked along the river, made our way back to the Louvre-- we have 4 day museum city passes and I at least knew I could use the facilities-- and limped back to our hotel around six tonight.  We hope to visit the Eiffel Tower at night, but it's about 25 minutes on foot from the hotel and we've been too exhausted to make our way back out once the sun sets.  I know we'll see it before we leave, but we might just shell out the euros to take a cab.

I'll end it here with some pictures of the day.  I wore full make-up with a scarf and boots to compensate for my dyed-in-the-wool Americana.  God did bless the U.S.A., but he surely created a beautiful language and culture here.

Redneck Fancy

In front of the Louvre entrance

Christ before Pilate

Wedding at Cana

Louvre gardens with the Eiffel Tower in the distance

Arriving at Notre Dame

Aisle view

View from the river

So, This Is Kinda A Thing

I am traveling to Europe soon.

Rest assured, I already have a specialized hashtag in my back pocket.

Ready?

#CountryGoesToEurope

I am surprisingly blase about the whole thing, basically because I have no frame of reference for international travel.  We are visiting Paris (can't even) and Amsterdam for a week.  A whole week.  By ourselves.  While are children are lovingly spoiled by their grands.  I'm not entirely sure if J will permit them to leave once our trip ends.

We are planning to hit the majors: Versailles, Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre.
The Loooo-VRE.  That's all I can say frenchy.

All the bread.  All the cheese.  All the pastries.  All of the things.  For the second part of the week, we are staying with Alex's old friend who lives in Amsterdam. No worries: he's a married dad of three and we are hoping to see the Anne Frank and the Van Gogh museums, and not any other more salacious offerings for which the city is known.

I'm sure we'll blend right in.  I mean, we know not to wear white sneakers.  I know what VAT is.  And to top that off, Alex left up a screen on the computer for Disneyland Paris.  I'm not sure if that's more Euro or Amer-o "trash" but I don't care.

Europe, baby!

We still have to figure out international SIM cards and whatnot, but I will surely share pictures here when we get back.

To my more well-traveled readers, any basic tips or tricks to pass along?  Shops, cafes, dishes to try?

I've got a Global Entry TSA-prescreening approval and an assortment of scarfs and boots to assist in my efforts to pass as a globe-trotting bon vivant.

Out of respect, I'm refraining from buying this shirt to wear in front of the Eiffel Tower.  It's tempting.

But I may break down and buy a selfie stick.

#Merica

It's That Time Again...

A few Saturdays ago, J and I were tromping through the walking trail at our local park. J was having a blast throwing rocks and pine cones in the lake.  My mind was wandering to everything and nothing until it landed on Fall.  And how pretty our park is.  And how pretty Fall is.  And how cute the kids' new Fall clothes that they'd been gifted are.  And how those new clothes matched my wine-colored dress.  And lo, when we returned to the car to go home, I had a message from a friend who had sent me a picture of her toddler daughter's dress, inquiring what her husband should wear-- wait for it-- in their family picture this year.  You know I zipped right on back with my thoughts (Daddies wear neutrals, duh, as Mama and baby girl quite rightly are the jewels of the family) and before you can say infinity scarf with leggings and boots, the lot was cast.

Fall Family Pictures.

I've brought myself (and husband) to a place of acceptance that this is just something we do.  I do own a camera and tripod and could get a snapshot of us.  We do have a lot of pictures of ourselves.  But as the Mother of the Bride, Nina, told her husband George in the movie Father of the Bride, we don't drive expensive cars. I don't wear expensive jewelry, so we can afford a nice wedding-- or family picture-- as the case may be.

So you know I've picked up a few things to accessorize with.  I mean we didn't have to buy new clothes!  The kids always need new shoes!  And scarves keep you warm.  That's just good sense.  And the boots were clearance, so I got two pairs for the price of one. And you know that if you do for one child, you have to do for the other.  Simple Mom Math.

Isn't being a woman just the best?

Yes.  I believe it is.

In other news, I'm one of the chaperones for our youth group's fall retreat.  I'm looking forward to getting to know my group of girls better, and who doesn't love a fire pit?  You know there's going to be some heartfelt sharing and crying.

I'm not trying to be cynical.  I've cried and overshared around many a youth group circle time, and heck, I overshare on this blog on a semi-regular basis when I take the time to write it down.

It'll be big fun with ziplines and all manner of jumping off inflatable things that I plan to safely observe at a distance.  They've got a band and a speaker and air-conditioning and these kids have no idea how nice they've got it.  Better bring my BenGay.  Ol' Myrtle here has gotta be spry to keep up with the young folk.

Happy almost Fall break, y'all. :)

"I'm Outta Control!" Regis style

First off, I'm very sad that there are no gifs of The Rege on the World Wide Web.  Regis & Kathie Lee were my go-to before walking to the bus stop in middle school, and that I didn't catch him with Kelly when visiting New York is a lasting regret.

So last Friday, I was OUTTA CONTROL.  Before we were saying "all the feels," Rege was manically gesturing and over-emoting.  I had "all the Rege" if you will.

It was 10 p.m. Friday night; I was reading, Alex was watching football, and one innocent "Whatcha thinkin' about, honey?" from my spouse sent me straight into all the Rege (ATR).

"I feel like I'm outta control!  I have no plan!  What are we even doing?  What do I even do?  Rachel doesn't need me, the kids are in school, and I'm chubby!  Maybe I should just go full-on cliche and join a stupid gym like every other mom....  I mean I know I'm not really that bad and we have a home and everyone is okay... I mean there was a Dad at the office (a shared office space for our speech therapist and a family psychologist)  who was late for a meeting for a court appointed child evaluation with the doctor and he was begging for a second chance and the doctor was going to tell his judicator, and I'm not sure exactly what that is but I know it's not good... THIS IS WHAT I THINK ABOUT WHEN I'M NOT WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS OR READING A NOVEL."

Hello and welcome to my crazy.  

My counters are messy and the bathroom smells and oh-my-gosh what am I even doing with my life?

I'm making this lighthearted, but I had one of my semi-annual crisis-of-confidence/emotional overflows and mercifully this one was in the privacy of my home (I don't have the best track record).

My sweet husband.  I mean the guy asked all the right things, assured me that yes, I do a bit around here and add value to our home and life, and going back to work (in the vague future) should not be driven by primarily by finances. Plus we've had a newborn every two years for a good stretch and maybe I'm thrown by not having a wee thing to keep alive.

The man is a gem.  Also, he gets me.  (Random aside: Go see "The Intern" for a textbook female freak out with the Anne Hathaway character lamenting to the Robert DeNiro character that she cannot be buried in the stranger/single/alone section of the cemetery.)

All of this to say... check out my efforts to reign in the chaos:

I may have a few responsibilities to fill my time.

It has a section for important papers and I've even added a meal plan to the margins.
 HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN!

I even went inside a gym. And used it. And took a class and planked and everything.

I've accomplished my major goal for each day this week and I'm thinking about some online work to get myself in gear for virtual teaching.

*tosses hat in air*

I'm gonna make it after all.

(Regis and Mary Tyler Moore references... I aim to please.)

I'm a Fan of a British Drama, Apparently

Not that this is a surprise.  I may have mentioned once or twice that I enjoy Downton Abbey.  (Ever heard of it?)  Two minor circumstances have opened up a richer world for me of late.

One: We moved around our bedroom furniture.  We've had the same arrangement for about seven years and I always remark when we stay in hotels that I enjoy having the TV right in front of the bed for maximum enjoyment and our TV at home is across from the bed and I have to crane my neck 45 degrees to watch and MY LIFE IS SO HARD.  We've been purging and big-kid-bed-mattress-buying so in that spirit, moved our bed to face the television and then mounted the TV to the wall and if I may say: It is a revelation.  My bedroom feels like a quiet oasis of mindless electronic consumption.

We did go without a TV in the bedroom the first year of our marriage, bless our hearts, but we've been together 11 years and ours is a simple love and that includes an endless loop of Everyone Loves Raymond from 9-11 p.m.  Plus, our bed is now right under the air vent, oh happy day.

It's big times in my house.

So, with all the wonder that is the Netflix and its viewer profile, I have crafted my recommended feed to serve up any and all British dramas of the romantic variety.  I have enjoyed two mini-series (best)
Death Comes to Pemberley and North and South (like a Les Miserables lite meets Jane Austen) based on the 19th century novel by Elizabeth Gaskell. I liked North and South so much I read the book and plodded through the obscure quotations and dialect.  To continue with my theme, I rented Far From the Madding Crowd and spent a fun two hours mocking the female lead's inane romantic choices, even if the plot would have resolved in the first 5 minutes if she'd just married that sheep farmer. Anyway, if you like your romance with lots of meaningful gazes, stony silences and crushing rejections to be reversed by sudden enlightenment, I give each my full endorsement.

The gazes!  The whispered asides! Hand holding!  It's all so romantical!

Two: I picked up a great read on the giveaway table at my church library (wild child, am I right?)  I have two more book recommendations. The first is Dear Mr. Knightley by Katherine Reay.  The female protagonist lives in a world of literary heroes and uses books as a coping mechanism. Christian fiction is tricky because the plot is typically weak and the spirituality is heavy-handed.  Not so with this book.  It's a good story first, and like real life, the woman's journey toward faith is not immediate or pat.  I devoured it and the many literary references.  In fact, the reference to North and South made me want to seek that novel out.

I also ordered and tore through Jen Hatmaker's latest book of essays For the Love: Fighting for Grace in a World of Impossible Standards.  There's so much chock-ful-o-goodness in this book that I won't try to summarize, but I really appreciated her words about the insanity of our "be better, do better" culture specifically as it relates to women.  We go through our hurried and harried day, attending to the needs of others, and end it thinking "I am doing a terrible job at everything."

And that's just madness.  The author continually exhorts the reader to appreciate her one. ordinary, precious life and look up and just live it, right now, with all its messy details instead of waiting for the day when the stars align and circumstances are easier.  She also notes that the Western church can get caught up in a performance trap (not a shock) and in a trickle-down mentality, Christians become discouraged if their "ministry" does not have a far reaching aim.  Love-- loving the people around us and being transformed by God's love is the message of the book and you know, the whole Bible.  While in no way competing with the Bible (caveat in place), this book does have several hilarious moments including Jimmy-Fallon-style Thank You Notes and perhaps my favorite part about what she (and I) want our kids to take away from childhood:

" 'Mostly good' (childhood) is later remembered as 'loved and safe.' I now label my childhood 'magical' though Mom slapped me across the face when I was in seventh grade and never bought me Guess jeans and accidentally left me at church several times.  Mostly good is enough.  Mostly good produces healthy kids who know they are valued and either forget the other parts or turn them into funny stories."

The book is very funny, practical and poignant, and the author's style of delivery directly to the reader makes her writing approachable instead of authoritative.  As it is a call for love and grace, her tone fits the subject matter.

And now I have approximately 33 minutes left of a toddler's nap to squeeze in some Gilmore Girls.
#RealLife
#OrdinaryLife
#ItsEnough
#NetflixIsMyBff
#AdultConversationNeeded

Shedding Dragon Skin

Today began with a slow morning.  Without any place I had to be, I took Rachel to our local pool for a late summer swim as she has been asking everyday since school began.  We were the first to arrive and my enthusiasm to join her in the water was tamped down by algae growing in the deep end.  Ick.  I'm no germophobe, but pool algae is the kiss of summer death for me.  We mostly splashed and snacked and I pulled out the mother's ace in the hole: lunch at Chick-Fil-A. 

 We had a fine lunch and I enjoyed giving her my full attention.  As I sat looking around me, I noticed a young man, late twenties to thirties, who worked the dining room, cleaning trays and greeting guests.  This man, A., shook hands with many regulars, and quietly and efficiently went about his work.  I noticed A. not for his hard work, but for his disability, as I know others did.  A. has Down's Syndrome, with the distinct facial features and stature of individuals with that syndrome.  

A. cannot hide his vulnerabilities.  They are right there on his face, in plain sight for compassion or indifference.


I do not know A. at all.  I've not interacted with him.  I know nothing of his story, his triumphs and falls. I couldn't tell you his "functioning level"  or IQ.


I can tell you this-- from my casual observation, he is a valuable member of his community.  He does his job with excellence, and makes people feel welcome.

And I, of course, connected the dots to my own son and my own dreams and wondering for his life.

I know my J very well.  I know his numbers and present levels and progress.  I know his interests and quirks and food preferences.  I know who he loves and and likes.

I know how he stands out in a group of typical peers.

And I know this-- special ed. or regular, college or vocational training, independent living or assisted or with me--

He will have value.  He will have a place. He will belong.

I've seen it.  

On her facebook page Mama Be Good, author Brenda Rothman writes:

"We believe in the dream of white picket fences, play dates, and athletically-gifted children who will volunteer in their spare time and attend a well-liked state school or the hallowed halls of Ivy League. And it is a dream. Some parents find out rudely and suddenly when a doctor pronounces the word "disabled." It is in that moment that many of us realize we don't know what cerebral palsy, or autism, or learning disability actually means. We realize how separate we were from the kids in special ed. We realize our own ignorance and fear about children who are different, non-typical, and dare we say it out loud, disabled. We realize we don't have a single disabled adult in our life." 8/19/15

I still fear it-- the unknowns and what-ifs.  But the elusive American dream for my son (and my other children) doesn't haunt me. It is an illusion, a facade, a projection. 

We have ordinary, real things.  Like each other.  Relationships over time-- developed in a classroom or a therapy room, a family room or a sanctuary.


 And I'll admit this:  sometimes I doubt people's sincerity, as if they take time to show kindness to J out of pity or to feel better about themselves.  That's petty and small, but a mother's heart is ruthless for her children's well being.  It doesn't have to make good sense. I choose to believe the kindness is because he is simply a neat kid.

Mostly I'm thankful for the kindness shown, no matter the motivation.  I'm not God, and I don't have to be the good intentions judge.

For J, and A.,  who do not hide behind a mask, and for me and everyone else whose dragon skin is being peeled off, bit by bit, to reveal what's inside, the peeling off is painful.  It feels raw and uncomfortable and leaves me vulnerable.

But there's the promise of Eustace and Aslan.  The promise of Jesus, really.  

Lose your life for me.  Then, you will find it.

It might not be as a dining room greeter at a company with excellent corporate and community values.

But after today, I'd be mighty proud if it did.

Portrait Of The Blogger As A Young Woman: A Purse Retrospective

I got a kicky new handbag for my birthday.  It's big and rugged and up-for-adventure.  It makes me feel like I should fill it up with a camera that takes film (if I still had one) and  my (blank) passport for a spontaneous excursion to some new locale instead of remembering to pack a Pull-Up just in case as I slide into my sleek mini-van with the peeling roof liner and make tracks for kid pick-up.  I'm a girl with a new bag and it makes me feel good.

As I was toting around my new accessory, I remembered the first work bag I bought for my teaching internship.  It was a black, pleather messenger bag that had a compartment for files and I felt so grown up and purposeful carrying it.  I was an adult, and my bag proved it.

And I can't help but smile this time of year at all the fresh, clean book-bags and lunchboxes, carefully adorned and filled by anxious parents and worn by too-small people.  This bag has ballerinas and that one has Batman and each is a little representation of the wearer.  Whimsical, adventurous, silly or studious: the things we carry speak to who we want to be.

I've carried plastic Barbie cases, and then little girl purses that resembled the style worn by grown ladies. I got my first "status" purse around 12.  (Remember Liz Claiborne? Was that not the ultimate in Middle School Cool?) I moved on to the Jansport years of high school and college.  I've never been able to drop triple-digits as an adult on some truly drool-worthy bags, but I happily received one on my most recent birthday.

The Liz Bag. Mine was beige.  The first thing I put in it was Raspberry Extra Gum and daydreamed
that I would snatch it as I ran to meet the The Man (Boy) I Loved In The Nick Of Time.
I was 12.

Pretty close the bag I carried in high school. Thank you, Ebay picture.

My New Bag Identity- The Explorer Tote Crossbody.

The bag isn't overly fancy or ornate-- it's made well, with strong materials.  It's subtle and up for anything.  And like those ballerina backpacks on mini-mes, this new bag exudes what I hope this next year is for a year-older me: stable, prepared, and ready for new things.  And cute.  Because above all, a girl wants to be cute, no matter the age.  If clothes make the man, a purse makes the woman.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

The Good

We went to Disney World!  It was great/fun/hot/expensive/magical!  We rode lots of rides, ate lots of frozen lemonade, battled emotional terrorism every time we passed a gift shop, and got to spend time with each other without the pull of work and responsibility.  That's been my favorite part of going to Disney.  You are just there for your kids to have fun.  That's your only mission.  The grind of daily life has been suspended and you just get to watch those you love experience new things.  Jeremiah was Alex's shadow and Sarah and I were partners in the park.  All of us would try to get to the park as close to opening as possible and do a few things together before splitting up to divide and conquer.  We'd try to head back to our hotel around lunch time to cool off and swim and then Sarah and I would sneak back a little ahead of the others to maximize our Disney time. We did each park and spent the last two days of our trip at Magic Kingdom.  Ideally, I would build in a rest day instead of going multiple days to the parks because it's an exhausting pace and you start to wear down.   We definitely had "The Disney Experience" and even though I doubt we'd take a big trip like that for several more years, I'd jump at the chance to go back.  Here's the link to our photo album if you're so inclined >>  Disney World Pictures 

The Bad 

Too much togetherness can wear you slap out.  Our family vibe was a bit surly leading up the the trip in late July, and I have to admit that Fun Mommy was quickly replaced by Mean Mommy when we returned home.  I've joked that after seeing Inside Out  I relate to the Anger character most-- frustration is my fall-back personality.  It's not a pleasant realization--no, you're not just put out getting ready for a big trip-- you're just a grump, a lot of the time, if you don't choose act better.  We came home on a Saturday and because I never turn down a chance to hang with a friend, the following Monday we took another small road trip to a water park a few hours from home. Oh, friend, 5 hours in the sun making sure children don't wander or drown will fry you.  I had big plans to just lounge and veg the next few days, but that looks different when you have dependents that require "meals" and "clean clothes" and "basic sanitation".  So after a few more rough attitudinal days, I packed in the dollar kiddie movies (or sixteen dollars to keep everyone's mouth full and rear end seated) and one last day at the pool.

I would like to say that we ended the weekend before school in a family devotional with a heartfelt prayer time for a new school year, but it was more like  "Here's a slice of pizza, let's get you rinsed off, now go to sleep" kind of end to the summer.  A 6:50 wake-up has been a challenge for Sarah as a most decidedly UN-morning person, but we've risen to the challenge and the kids even walked in solo the past two mornings.  I've taken zero back-to-school pictures because EARLY.  Sarah was so confident and eager that first day.  She had no problem separating from us and I was likewise dry-eyed.  She'll rock Kindergarten, I have no doubt.  Jeremiah likes his new teacher and has adjusted back to the school routine quickly.  We have one more early wake-up and then a no-plans Saturday, the best kind there is.

The Ugly & The Bottom Line

I follow Jen Hatmaker (like every other woman in my demographic) and she shared a recent cover story in which she is featured.  Her words on giving grace to yourself aren't new or profound, but they perfectly capture my end-of-summer "ugly".

Speaking personally, when I am being unkind toward others and when I am struggling to be gracious, forgiving, understanding or compassionate, [it] is usually because I am in a really bad place myself. It is when I am unhappy with something in the interior of me or I am privately struggling with something I am too embarrassed to discuss with other people or even admit, times when I am in a cycle of self-condemnation. So when I am really ugly to others, I find that I am being ugly to myself. If we can develop a kinder inner voice, we automatically develop a kinder outer voice. There is high correlation between the two. When I am healthy and I have developed a high level of care for my own soul, I am able to be so much kinder to others.   - See more at: http://www.austinwomanmagazine.com/articles/amazing-grace#sthash.Z4RBhjUC.dpuf

That day we went to the movies, I had a frustrating afternoon with my kids and then went out for a few hours and was able to talk with some other women, but still carried that "Why Do I Make This So Hard And Why Isn't It Hard For Everyone Else?" feeling.  We had received a package that I hadn't noticed earlier in the day, and Alex mentioned it to me.  

"Hey... Did you know your friend sent you a brush?" 


"Huh?" 

"You must not have seen it.  It's downstairs."

So I go to investigate and find a brush.  A Wet Brush, specifically sent to me by a friend who saw me struggle to brush out Sarah's hair in line at the water park earlier that week.  (Yes, who cares about hair at a water park?  Me.  I guess I care. Because I care that my child looks like Cousin It and that makes me seems like I don't have control over my child and guess what-- I DON'T-- because she's a free moral agent and I'm her mother, not her trainer, note to self.)  Anyway, my friend sent me a special brush and didn't mention witnessing my embarrassing episode where I'm tugging on my kid's hair and threatening to leave (because be honest, we both know I'm not gonna leave).  My friend showed me grace and kindness and it reminded me to show myself some too.

Last little nugget:  In all my Mother-Of-The-Year-End-Of-Summer-Angst, I was feeling very disconnected from J.  I just let the girls watch too much Netflix and let him take his IPad and watch The Chipmunk movie waaaaaay too many times.  The only time that day he tried to engage me, asking to go outside together, I told him "not now."   (I know. Cringe.)

Anyway, later that night, I pull him on my lap and we do this little game where I pretend to eat his face by kissing it and tell him it tastes like donuts.  I lean and and ask him "What does my face taste like, J?" 

And looking straight in my eyes, he says with a smile, "Spaghetti."  And my very mean inner voice shut right on up, because my kid loves me and he understands everything and just because he can't respond to my many verbal demands the way I expect, HE GETS IT.  He gets the humor and context and you know what, inner voice?  Yes, I need to spend more quality time with him and meet goals and learn new things to help him learn, but it's all good because we love each other.  We are just people, not projects, and when we love each other, we do our best.

I feel like I should close with a Be Blessed...

And a sincere Show Yourself Some Grace...

Melissa

What The Jesus In My Mind Would Say in A "Hey Girl" Meme

To be clear, I enjoy satire, but I have no appreciation for irony when depicting religious figures, most of all the Creator of the Universe, thank you very much.  I always felt squeamish when SNL did Jesus bits and quickly turned the channel.  I know that's supposed to be the mark of a free society and free speech, but uh-uh, nope, I'm good.

Now that we've got that all squared away...

We try to do a little devotional most nights (less than 3 minutes!) and one of the things I like most is the weekly bible verse.  Some weeks the verse lends itself to motions. I wish I knew ASL, but alas, I only know Jesus, Lord, please, thank you and more.  Meaning I've been to my fair share of evangelical youth camps and attempted to have a toddler request more Cheerios.  I also "teach" kids' choir, so I really also know sing, love, and all the motions to Go Tell It On The Mountain.

All that to say we were practicing the verse James 1:22 that exhorts "Don't just listen to God's Word; you must do what it says. Otherwise, you are only fooling yourselves."  I'm not sure the version this is taken from, but it is also more commonly rendered "Be doers of the Word and not hearers only."

As the girls were doing the motions to aid in their memorization, I thought to myself, "Well, shoot, James.  You kinda nailed it there." I mean, that's a "drops mic" moment.  Leave it to one verse in the Bible to knock you over the head.  I believe that's why the theologians like to call it the inspired Word of God.

Somehow, I imagined how Jesus might apply that verse to me, not to fool myself with thinking listening to His words was somehow enough:

I wasn't convicted of any one thing (because let's face it, there's always so much in view of a holy God), but the book of James is pretty clear.  You'd better work out your faith.  It's the proof in the pudding. (End Sermon.)

And I thought I'd share that little nugget with you, along with my two Scripture memory/gong show stars.  Watch to the end to hear the verse :)