Sunday, March 25, 2012


It's Sunday evening again, the weekend gone as always, much too fast. It's early and quiet, Ethan's muffled voice as he reads out loud in his bedroom coming down the hall. There's hardly any light, just a low lamp light, a three wick candle, and the glow of the computer screen. The refrigerator hums.
Despite the calm outside, inside I feel restless.
So much of my security and sense of happiness comes from my marriage, and when I feel distant or estranged from my husband, the rest of my world seems to feel out of wack as well.
I've tried to reverse this. I've tried to be OK without his attention and affection, but in the end I just whither inside, no matter how hard I work at not needing it. The fact of the matter is I do need it, it's how I am put together.
Lately I've been obsessed with rats. Even writing that seems a little strange and really disgusting, but it's the truth. I visit pet stores on my lunch breaks and hold the little things, I think of names for them like "Red Eyed Clyde" and "Sir William"; or for the girls, "Daisy" or "Coco". It's the puppy obsession all over again.
The rats are a little bit easier to justify; they cost under ten dollars, and I'm thinking if we needed to I could convince my mom to take care of them if we go out of town for the weekend. I've done some reading on them, and supposedly they bond with their owners, they are intelligent enough to learn tricks, they are one of the top five pets for young children, and they are just sweet, despite being very ugly, almost scarey even.
I want something to bond with.
If my husband is pre-occupied, a rat will do.
We talked about this this afternoon. It didn't go over very well; I'm learning in marriage sometimes the truth doesn't. But it must be said: the live, dynamic nature of the relationship forcing the truth to the surface like lava bursting out of a volcano. Forcing the truth to be dealt with, gone through, experienced as it covers and invades every corner of the relationship, from between the sheets to putting the dishes away-it's there. Lying there, waiting to be dealt with, cleaned up.
I forget sometimes that my marriage will not carry on without my active participation. So much of the time I take it for granted, waiting for it to give me what I want: affection, affirmation, hugs and kisses galore.
I forget to care for it, forget to nurture it, to respect it as the live and fragile thing that it is. I forget it needs my time, my money, my energy, more than anything else in this life.
Did you know a plant can grow out of a lava rock, if given the right amount of water and sunshine?
It can.
I still hope we get the rats. I'm an animal lover. Even ugly ones.

Saturday, March 17, 2012


The last cup of Matevana in the house. Homemade oatmeal cookies with  cranberries and nuts to justify being a healthy snack. A somewhat quiet house, except for the boys talking to themselves in their bedrooms instead of actually sleeping for nap time.
Me in a soft dark teal tank top, black leggings and cozy brown boots. Just out of the shower, clean and refreshed. Content.
I taught Balletone this morning to my group at Saint's. More and more I am coming to love teaching, especially this format. This afternoon I'll teach again at Hillside. I LOVE offering this as a free opportunity for my church family as well as anyone in the community to be able to strengthen and refresh their bodies, all while connecting and enjoying one anothers' company.
The house renovation is coming along beautifully. We payed a crew to come finish painting the rest of the house, ceilings, door trims, and doors. (Enter sky opening up and chorus of angels singing here).
Staying up till the wee hours of the AM to paint while the boys slept in hardly any light was not the best of situations.
To top it off, we originally were told our floor was back ordered, and wouldn't be here till May or June. BUT, today we were notified it is on it's way in the back of some big truck from Virginia and should be here in the next couple of weeks.
This is totally awesome news! except I've been in the trucking business and know that is about as reliable as a two year old with big boy undies on. I am hoping for the best, that's all you can ever do.
My job is going amazing, I love meeting all the doctors and their offices in town. It has been the greatest blessing and answers to prayers said a long, long, time ago. I have experienced God's love and faithfulness in incredible new ways, and continue to do so on a daily basis. He is always good.
"NiNi" the boys' nanny has been a much needed addition to our little family. She helps take Ethan to school and picks him up, she cleans and does the laundry, and she talks with me when I come home from work. I feel guilty about having her-having a nanny seems like such a luxury, but that's when I just take a deep breath and am thankful for where we are at, knowing nothing is guaranteed for tomorrow, but that God will be faithful no matter what.

Sunday, March 11, 2012


For some reason felt the urge to curl up on the couch with my hot water (love tea and coffee but can't do them past 4pm or I'm up all night) laptop and cozy blanket and write. It might be this soft grey t-shirt I'm wearing; the feel of it is inspiring on my skin, makes me happy, makes me want to do other things that make me happy, like write.
But what to write about?
We are busy but managing. More than managing, we are doing quite well. We get lots of time together as a family, even with Joey's ongoing crazy schedule.
After speaking with my sister in South Africa, where hired help 8 hours a day to cook, clean, shop, do laundry and watch the kids is the norm, I decided to pool my resources and hire a nanny.
Since "NiNi" (the i's are long) has come aboard, becoming a part of our little family, I can breath again. My chest does not feel like it might implode on itself any second, like at the request of one more errand to run or meal to be made or sock pair to be folded. My hair has relaxed instead of standing on end like my finger was continually stuck in an electric socket (OK, maybe I didn't look like that, but that's how I felt. All of the time).
I have time to do things that make me happy, like looking through magazines for home ideas (I know! I know! Pinterest! I am so behind the times because I still like to hold a magazine! So shoot me!),  exercise, and rolling on the floor with my kids.
I feel like a pretty good mom.
Sometimes, lately, I even get a glimpse of the freedom and carefree happiness that I had before becoming a full fledged married-with-kids, homeowning-in-a-depressed-market adult.  And when those rare feelings re-surface, mentally I make a note of it. I remember how I used to be. And that somewhere in all the responsibility, she still exists.
But we do change. For one thing, this older me, buried in responsibility, has allergies to boot. Allergies! Ugh! They suck.
I will just be standing somewhere, lets say in line at Starbucks, and BAM! My nose starts running like someone turned a hose on and of course I don't have a Kleenex-hello? I am not even 30 yet, I definitely do not carry around "if needed" tissues-my eyes start watering like somebody real close to me just passed and then if I am really lucky I'll start to sneeze, big, loud elephant like sneezes that make anyone standing within a two-foot radius of me suddenly start to silently move as far away as they possibly can, while still maintaining their place in line.
 Moving on...
My home renovation project is coming along. It's a work in progress, always. I am always moving this picture or thinking of something to paint, or what my next home purchase is going to be. It keeps me occupied and motivated to stay inspired.
I live off inspiration. It must somehow be related to hope. To feel inspired about something is also to feel hopeful about it-that there is something better to come. I am always looking for inspiration, for hope for my home, my marriage, my role as a mother, my career, even my physical body. When I am inspired I am full of hope and motivation to act, to keep going, to try again. Hope does not disappoint.