I give! The laundry wins!

I give up. I'm conceding defeat.

After months of waging war against my laundry, I am finally ready to throw in the towel. Literally.

I feel like the dirty clothes in this house dominate my life. They stack up in piles. They beg to be washed. In fact, they stink.

I used to have somewhat of a grip on the laundry around here. Back when the kids were in preschool, I would set aside one day a week to do nothing but laundry. No playdates. No errands. Just laundry.

But as our family grew, it was no longer possible to do all of our laundry in one day. It wasn't physically possible for our washer and dryer to complete all of the loads in a 12-hour time period. And I wasn't willing to stay up all night.

So, I switched to the one-load-a-day method. Every day, I would wash, dry, fold and put away one load of laundry. The only problem was when I would miss one day. I would start to feel behind. I would skip another day. Soon, I was so buried in being behind, I would start to feel hopeless. Then, I would have to go back to Plan A.

That's when we went to the system of giving each person in the house one day a week to do his or her laundry. The oldest child was on Monday. The second on Tuesday. The third born on Wednesday. Then, the baby on Thursday (me), Me on Friday (me), my husband on Saturday and the towels on Sunday (me). I can't even remember what happened to this system. I think I just got tired of trying to remind people whose day it was and trying to nag everyone to get their load done to make room for someone else.

Over the summer, I simple gave up on the laundry. I watched it grow in tall piles and topple over the tops of the brown baskets that indicate the laundry is dirty. Children begged to be able to wear clean underwear. The boys' socks got so smelly I had to throw them away.

My husband tried to intervene even though I have fired him from laundry dozens of times. He CLAIMED that clean laundry — even when it's in the wrong drawers and not folded up to my folding specifications — is better than dirty laundry. Oh, he's always got some clever argument and practical reasoning. I still wasn't buying it.

I kept telling him he was fired. He would smile. And then the minute I left the house for more than two hours, I would come home to find him folding laundry.

As summer turned to fall, our laundry woes have only grown. I have tried to do a load here and there. But between home schooling, chasing a toddler, working a part-time job, cooking meals, cleaning the house and driving people from place to place, I simply don't have an extra 12 hours a day to devote to laundry. I just refused to do it. I would look the other way. Ignore it. Maybe it would go away on its own.

Well, I'm finally conceding defeat. We just can't live anymore in a house piled up with dirty clothes. I'm completely out of laundry strategies. So, I'm just going to take it slow and steady. One load at a time.

If you don't see me for a few days, please don't be alarmed. I will be washing. Drying. Folding. Putting away. And as soon as I get done with all of the clothes, I know there will be plenty more waiting for me. I'm devoting my life to laundry.

I'm going to get started right now. As soon as I finish this blog post. And help the kids with their school work. And make lunch. And clean up the kitchen. And put the toddler down for her nap. Yep. I'm going to get to it right after that. Unless something else comes up.

What about you? Are you on top of your laundry? Or feeling a little defeated?

I got you babe

Last year when we were out trick or treating, one of the parents gave a challenge that the adults should get dressed up too this year. I have had it in the back of my head the past few weeks, but I really couldn't come up with any good ideas for a costume.

A few days ago, I was at WalMart shopping for costumes for the kids and I saw the wig with the pick. I could imagine that my husband would rock that wig! My plan was to dig deep in our closet to find some hippie outfits to go with the hair.

But alas, we don't have any tie-dye T-shirts or a single pair of faded bell-bottoms! So, I popped into the Halloween store hoping to maybe pick up a few peace-symbol accessories. That's when I found these outfits. I'm sorry. I couldn't resist!

And here's our little eskimo.

We loved our daughter as Cleopatra!

What's Halloween without a ninja?

And a Jedi knight?

The whole crazy family...

Rock on!

I've always thought it was annoying that my kids start planning next year's Halloween costumes on Nov. 1. Now, I'm starting to understand!

I'm going to have to rank getting dressed up for Halloween right there with roller skating, going down a water slide and having a water balloon fight. It's one of those things that adults often sit back and watch. But it's a lot more fun to get in on the action!

Reality

Today is 010111. The date alone makes me want to make a resolution.

I was thinking about my proposed resolution up until the final minutes of 2010. I could hear the fireworks exploding in the distance, and my mind was still filled with thoughts of blogging every day in 2011. The idea alone was making me tense. I was starting to panic even before the first day of January officially arrived.

I was thinking about my life. The reality is I home-school about 30 hours a week. I work about 20 hours a week. Part of my job is to write on a blog. I have four children who are hungry all of the time. They also produce a ton of dirty clothes.

I don't spend enough time reading my Bible or exercising or reading books or grocery shopping or cleaning. My house is cluttered. I need to clean out every closet and take the contents to Goodwill. I have a baby who likes to throw squishy bananas on the floor.

I want to update my blog every day. I can update my blog every day. However, I am choosing not to. (GASP!)

I know. This is so unlike me. I love to have goals and push myself to try new things. But I don't want the pressure. I don't want to turn something that is currently my hobby, my outlet, my joy into something I dread.

I am going to take a photo every day. And I am going to put it in a neat little folder on my computer so at the end of the year I can create a photo book with one photo of every day of 2011. I want to challenge myself to be creative with the photos that I take.

I might share some of those photos on my blog, but I'm not making any promises. I want to see how they turn out. And I'm not sure if they will really be that interesting to anyone outside my immediate family. I don't want all of my e-mail subscribers to leave me because I'm overwhelming them with daily photos in their inbox.

So, thank you to those who encouraged me. I really did appreciate it.

And now, after being inspired by notasupermom, I'm going to post a few other things I plan to do in 2011:

I'm going to check my e-mail as often as I like. I might even put my iTouch in one back pocket, the iPhone in the other and carry my iPad under my arm and then have a showdown to see which one can retrieve my messages faster.

I'm going to drink at least two cups of tea every morning. I will drink my tea with refined white sugar.

I am going to kiss my baby's bald head every day until she grows some hair. I am going to make her wear little hats with huge flowers and bows. I will talk in my baby voice as long as I can get away with it, saying things like, "You are the cootest wittle baby I evah did see. I wuv oo."

I am going to be a more daring friend. I am going to take risks and go out on a limb for people.

I am going to let the e-mail pile up in my inbox until I reach my storage limit or Comcast threatens to shut down my account.

I am going to read books to my children in foreign accents. This drives them crazy and they beg me to stop. I am going to try to annoy them as much as possible with this. On some occasions, I will teach them grammar in my deep south accent and give them spelling words in my Chinese accent.

I am going to play lots of board games with my kids. I might even watch a few movies.

I am going to make as many different kinds of soup as I can until winter is over. I don't care if no one will eat them but me. I will make soup.

I am going to continue to expand my shoe collection.

I will take naps. Lots and lots of naps.

I might update my blog every day some months. Or I might not.

So, 2011, bring it on. We just met, but I'm starting to love you already!

Busy, busy, terribly busy

A friend I haven't talked to in a while sent me an e-mail recently. "You are so busy," she said.

I asked another friend how she had been doing lately, and she responded with one word: "Busy."

It's no secret that we are a generation that seems busier than ever before. And yet, I cringe when someone tells me I'm "busy." I really dislike that word. I don't like hearing it from others, and I don't like it when someone uses it to describe me. I'm actually trying to eliminate it from my vocabulary.

Here's the thing.

Every person on this planet has the same 24 hours in a day. Each one of us decides how we will use those hours. We are all equal in this regard.

Now, some people might have jobs that require them to work more hours than others. Some people have more children who demand more of their time.

But for the most part, we all choose how we will spend the hours in our day. Some of us choose to sign up for activities for our kids. Others choose to work outside the home or inside the home. Some people choose to work more hours than they really have to. Many people choose to exercise or keep their homes really clean or pursue a hobby.

And there is nothing wrong with any of those choices.

But that's just it. Whatever it is that people choose, it really is a choice.

So, when people say they are busy, they are actually stating a priority. They are saying, "I don't have time to do that because I have chosen to make other things a priority in my life."

If someone repeatedly says she is too busy to spend time with someone, she is stating a priority. When someone tells me that I'm too busy, that person isn't allowing me to state my priority. He or she has decided for me that I'm not willing to make time for... whatever.

Now, there are definitely times of life when things get crazy. Fall seems to be a time when all of the activities start up again and suddenly, it feels like we don't have time for anything that is just relaxing and fun. The same thing can happen around the holidays.

It seems like we often forget that we need to schedule some "margin" into our lives. This is the white space where we have time to sit on the floor with the kids or sit outside in the sun or be available when someone drops by. Those moments of margin can be the relaxed times when some of the best conversations can happen.

So, yes. I do have a lot of responsibilities in my life right now. But believe it or not, I actually feel like I have quite a bit of margin. To me, I feel busy when I am constantly running from one thing to the next. We certainly have our seasons of crazy.

But busy? No, thanks.

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Dead.

The first piece of irony for the day came when I found myself driving to a store to do my CyberMonday shopping. I had looked at those dishes all day online, but really, I needed to see those colors in person.

So, I had to drive to the store to look at them so I could drive back home to order them. Apparently, I couldn't get the CyberMonday sale by purchasing them in the store. I couldn't get free shipping in the store either, but then again, who needs shipping when you drive two miles to the store and buy want you want.

The second bit of irony came when I got back home. I decided against those dishes, by the way. But I found some others that were the perfect colors. That's when my husband gave me the news.

"It's dead."

Dead?

"Yes, dead."

How could it be dead? How could our 5-year-old dishwasher have died?

Within minutes, my cyber shopping for dishes turned into cyber shopping for a dishwasher. Because, really? Doesn't a nice set of dishes sound so ridiculous if you have to carefully wash them by hand? And who can afford to spend more than $100 on dishes, when we now need several hundred for a dishwasher.

I still couldn't believe that it had died right in the middle of a wash cycle. It hadn't even bothered to empty the water out of the machine first.

Figures.

I didn't like that dishwasher from the very beginning. It has always been temperamental. But, for the last month or so, it had actually been on great behavior.

I blame its attitude on the fact that it's a "smart" appliance. It has a "sensing" wash cycle. Apparently, it can sense when it needs to do this or that. I prefer a good ol' fashioned dumb machine. I prefer one that listens to me. I prefer one that turns on when I press the start button.

Not this one! Oh, no. It is so smart and so sensitive that it knows better than I do when the dishes are clean and when they are dirty. I can't even tell you how many arguments we have gotten into. How many times I have stood counting to 10 as I firmly held the "normal wash" button. I want a normal wash. I don't want a light wash or a heavy wash. But it usually won.

And now, without a sputter or spill, without so much as a moan or groan, it had died. Just like that. Did I mention it was only FIVE years old?

I wanted to pout, and so I did.

I have been trying to figure out how to be a better house keeper, with all of my schedules and lists and rules and the dumb iCal. But unless I do about four loads of laundry a day and run the dishwasher three times a day, I'm hopeless.

There are six of us living in this house. We work from home. We home school. We host small group once a week IN OUR HOME. We are home for almost every meal. I cook. And all of this creates dishes. Lots and lots of dishes.

The idea of washing them by hand put me over the edge. I had to go to bed, leaving my husband with these instructions. "Add it to your cart." I didn't care which dishwasher. As long as it was black. And I would prefer one that wasn't smart.

I woke up in the middle of the night and remembered the sink full of dishes. I reminded myself that when I was growing up, we also had a family of six. And for many years we didn't have a dishwasher.

We enjoyed quality time after dinner washing dishes together. One person washed. Someone else rinsed. Another person dried. And one other person carried from the dining room and washed the table. In the midst of it all, we usually flicked wet towels at each other and laughed and laughed. Those were good times.

I realize all of this is very much a 1st World problem. Millions of people survive everyday without dishwashers. Or even running water and electricity.

But I still would like to enjoy a few minutes of whining, if you don't mind. I'm not ready to spend half of my day washing dishes by hand.

After lunch today, my son said, "How will we wash the dishes without a dishwasher?"

He did not realize there was another way. In fact, I don't even know where the plug is for the right side of the sink. The side we will need to fill with rinsing water.

I guess that's a good sign to me. Maybe we needed this learning experience. Maybe we all need to enjoy sticking our hands in a big sink full of soapy water. Maybe we will laugh and flick wet towels at each other.

Maybe.

(Sigh.)

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You! (and you and you)

A few weeks ago, I took my kids to home school swim at our local aquatic center. I was sitting in the zero depth area trying to hide my very pale legs under the water while I played with the baby.

A woman came running over to me from across the pool. I wondered if she was bringing urgent news that she had an extra bottle of self-tanning cream in her bag.

"Aren't you the blog lady?!" she asked. (She really did sound excited when she asked, so I'm not exaggerating with the exclamation point.)

"Yes!" I answered. "I mean... maybe." Was it my imagination or did she just call me "the blog lady?" My mind was racing to try to answer.

"I don't know...," I stammered. "I do have a blog."

"I read your blog all the time," she said. (Well, she did say something to that effect. Perhaps she said, "I used to read your blog all the time" or "I read your blog a few times.")

She went on to tell me that I had even convinced her to watch Lost. After reading my Lost posts, she told her husband they had to get in on the series before the show ended, and they actually watched all six seasons in less than a year.

"WHAT?" I was thinking. (No, actually, I think I said, "WHAT?!" very loudly, but you know how noisy it can be at an indoor pool, so I can't be sure if I said it out loud or just thought it very loudly in my mind.) Anyway, I couldn't believe that not only did I have a reader I barely knew, but I had influenced her life in some weird, time-consuming, meaningless way.

I had met this woman more than a year ago at a park. It was the day I met my real life imaginary friend, Holly. We were discussing how we got to know each other through our blogs. This woman seemed interested, but I had no idea she had actually gone to the trouble to track down my blog address and had been reading.

She also couldn't have known how she had made my day.

Blogging can be a tricky hobby. Anyone who blogs will understand what I mean. I write because I need to write. It makes me feel better. I don't write so people will read. And yet, I want people to read. And when they don't, or when I think they don't, then I convince myself that my writing is ridiculous. "Why do I do this?" I ask myself. "Why do I feel I need to write in such a vulnerable, public way, when no one reads but me?"

And at just the moment I have convinced myself that not a single solitary soul on the planet reads my blog and I should delete the whole darned thing off the face of the blogosphere, some woman I barely know runs up to me at the pool and asks me if I am "the blog lady" as if I'm actually a real, bonafide blogger who has real, bonafide readers.

OK. So I know I have a handful of people who read my blog on a semi-irregular, halfway inconsistent basis. And I've even influenced a few others to waste a perfectly good year of their lives watching six seasons of Lost all at once.

But it's so easy to get caught up in comparing myself to the woman who boasts she grew to 1,000 readers in one year or the blah blah blah blogger who gets 562 comments every day. Comparing myself in any area of life always leads me to trouble. I'm trying to stop. Really! I am!

So today I just wanted to say "Thank you" to The Pool Lady. And to the people who now strike up conversations with me about Ugg boots. And the friend who texted me a covert photo of someone wearing Uggs with shorts at the grocery store. And the people who have e-mailed me with the grammatical errors that annoy them most. Those things really mean a lot to me.

So, today, I have a question. I would love to learn more about anyone who might be reading today.

Would you leave me a comment with your name, your blog address (if you have one) and the answer to this question: "Do you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert?"

I don't have any reason for asking this question other than the fact that I love to know these things about people. Do you find that you are energized by being around people or by being alone? (Just for fun, you also can tell me if you find yourself comparing yourself to others in any ridiculous, unhealthy ways. =] )

If you haven't left a comment before, just look for the little radio button that says "Name/URL." You can fill in your first name and leave your comment. You don't need to have a Blogger account or web site. Thanks!

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Can I get a nice warm drink with that?

After opening that can of worms about the Ugg boots vs. the Keurig, I decided I should write an entire blog post about my love for warm beverages. I know, I know... two deep thought-provoking posts in two days is a bit much, but I'm going out on a limb.

But first, I have to say that after writing that post, I was compelled to do a bit more research on the Ugg. As I said before, my friend who wants the Uggs does have incredibly good taste in clothing, and after receiving a few comments from staunch supporters over on Facebook, I knew I didn't fully understand the positive qualities of the Ugg.

I have to admit, this would be a cute way to approach the winter snow.

And this even looks a bit like a cowboy boot. The brown suede would look sweet with my Chief Illiniwek outfit.

It's that whole knitted sweater on the foot look that gets to me.

And of course the $200 price tag. I'm sorry, but even at 50 percent off, that is an expensive pair of boots.

OK... so enough about boots. What about that Keurig?

I don't like cold weather, which is not a good quality to possess when you live in the midwest. Sweaters and cute boots aren't enough to keep me going, so I also have to stay motivated with soup and lots and lots of warm drinks.

I have my Keurig programmed to turn on at 6:20 and I'm ready to start my day with a nice warm drink brewed to perfection.

I love my selection of K-cups.

But this is actually my drink of choice. Hot tea.

Last week, the weather took a turn for the colder after some amazing fall days in October. I decided I better buy some hot chocolate because our small group was coming over that night.

The boxes of hot chocolate were on sale for $.81. That's right. EIGHTY-ONE CENTS.

This was a great excuse to grab a few of the regular milk chocolate, plus the ones with mini marshmallows. And then the dark chocolate sensation. Oh, and the caramel chocolate. And a box of the mint chocolate.

And what is hot chocolate without a big squirt of whipped cream on top?

My husband was skeptical about how many people would go for the cocoa. We heard many comments of, "Well, I don't usually drink hot chocolate, but I see you have whipped cream." Everyone grabbed a packet and we all enjoyed our comfort drink on a 30-degree evening. Mmmmm. That makes a cold evening worth it. Well, it helps anyway.

Oh, and do you want to guess which was most popular?

• milk chocolate?
• milk chocolate with mini marshmallows?
• dark chocolate sensation?
• caramel chocolate?
• or mint chocolate?

Go ahead... Leave me your guess!

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I need to know... I really do!

This question is for the both of you... as in ALL of my blog readers. I really need to know what you think.

A friend the other day said she was debating between asking her husband for one of these two Christmas gifts:

1. a Keurig coffee maker or

2. a pair of Ugg boots.

This was a tough one. Well, it was tough for her, but quite obvious to me.

Despite my love for all things boot, I just don't get the Ugg. I think it's the name. I'm sure that Ugg means "beautiful foot" in Scandinavian or Swedish or whatever far off land where the boot is manufactured. But in English, I feel that Ugg is a good description of the boot or house shoe or whatever the heck that thing is.

However, my friend has amazingly good taste in clothing so I know I must be totally clueless about this foot fashion with the horrible name that is worth more than $100. Worth the price of the wonderful, life-changing Keurig hot-beverage brewing machine. The machine that turns itself on and begins heating your hot water and is ready at a moment's notice to serve any hot beverage you would like at the perfect temperature. Absolutely perfect temperature. Not one degree too hot or cold.

So, I would love it if all of you would enlighten me on the Ugg. I have several friends who are saving all the pennies in their piggy bank to get a pair of these, so I know it has to be ME who is out of touch.

I do have two other very important questions.

If you were going somewhere and wearing open-toed shoes and you were running late, but you had not eaten breakfast yet and you realized that your toe nails were NOT painted, would you:

a. paint your toe nails and skip breakfast?

b. eat breakfast and go out with naked toe nails?

And finally, if you were choosing a football team to support throughout your life and your support of this team required you to attend games, dress in team sweatshirts and possibly even paint your face, would you:

1. choose the team based on the college you attended, team standings or your love for a certain state?

2. choose the team based on the team colors that best match your complexion and would fit in best with the majority of sweaters in your wardrobe?

I'm sure you have no idea what my answers to these questions would be. However, I thought this would be a really nice bonding experience if the three of us could share on this topic.

Oh, and does anyone know of a football team with jerseys in a nice olive green and brown? Something that would go with tall brown boots?

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On a deserted island

Last night at my small group, we had to answer an ice breaker question: "If you were stranded on a deserted island, what is the one thing you would take with you?" The answer couldn't be a Bible or another person.

I thought the question was kind of silly at first. My brain was really NOT wanting to expend too much energy coming up with an answer.

But I was amazed at how the answers gave a little insight into each person in the group.

First, we had the "comfort" people. One woman said she would bring a warm blanket. Another said she wanted a really large supply of toilet paper.

Most of the men fell into the "practical" camp. A Leatherman. Matches.

Then, a few of the women were what I would call "relational". A photo of the family. Her two dogs.

Wow! Those were some good answers!

Of course, we had those trying to sneak in an iPod, a laptop and a cellphone. Let's face it. The island does NOT have WiFi or a power generator. So, after about two hours, they will have a really nice electrical coaster for their coconuts drinks. Should I call them the "idealists"?

I didn't have a chance to answer the question last night before we moved on. But I had decided I wanted to bring a really large pad of paper and some pens. If I'm stranded on a desert island, I would definitely have some stories to tell. I would need to jot down lots of thoughts and ideas. And I can't function without my lists: 1. Get up. 2. Walk to stream. 3. Find coconut. 4. Go fishing.

I also could use the paper and pen to doodle. I love to doodle. I might starve to death with no fire. Or freeze to death without my blanket. But at least I could doodle.

So how about you? What would you want on a deserted island?

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Does that come with a cup holder?

I've had a little is-sue the past week or so.

I have been coughing. And coughing. And coughing. I keep thinking it's going to get better. But it doesn't.

Actually, I usually feel pretty good during the day. Except for the fact that I'm so tired from coughing the entire night.

I have found one thing that helps, though. Ice chips. I get up in the middle of the night and get a cup of crushed ice. I lay in bed, holding the ice and eating it until I stop coughing.

The only problem with this plan is that I'm afraid I will fall asleep and spill the ice all over myself. And that is going to be worse than the coughing.

So, last night, I was thinking that what I need is a bedside cup holder. I'm picturing one of those clip-on cup holders that used to be sold for a car. Remember those? You would clip them on the side of the window.

I'm pretty sure my parents had one in their big red station wagon with the faux wood paneling on the side.

That must have been before cars came equipped with cup holders. Of course, cars also didn't have seat belts in the back seats. Or even back seats, for that matter. We would just sit in the very back of the station wagon or lie down and take a nap.

The hanging cup holder worked great unless it was full of a red slurpie and someone slammed the door shut. That wasn't so great.

Just think. Maybe the bedside cup holder will lead to as many inventions as the carside cup holder. I mean, think about it! Now, cars always come with cup holders. Not to mention seat belts. And seats. And air bags. And cruise control.

It might turn out that even people who don't have bronchitis, pneumonia or even croup will start wanting cups of ice in their bedside cup holders.

Then, I realized that maybe most people with respiratory illnesses just place their cups of crushed ice on the night stand. And, I'm sorry to report that because we have lived with the same hand-me-down furniture for longer than I can admit, we don't have a night stand.

So, actually, what we need is new bedroom furniture.

Well, I was afraid that you all might start to worry about me since I haven't posted for so long. Hopefully, this post will ease your mind that I am completely fine. And not a bit delirious from lack of sleep.

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when i grow up i want to be just like my 4-year-old daughter

For the past two weeks, my kids have had swimming lessons four days a week at the local pool.

I have been amazed each day to watch my 4-year-old daughter in action. Oh, she’s good at swimming. But I’m more impressed by my little social butterfly’s ability to make friends.

When it’s time to get in the pool, she scans the area for another girl who seems to be within two years of her age or two feet of her size. She approaches the girl and asks her if she would like to learn how to “dive” in the pool like she does. Or maybe the girl would like to learn how to do an underwater somersault. Perhaps they could toss rings under water and swim down to reach them, she suggests.

After about 15 minutes, my daughter reports back to me that she has made a new friend and she lets me know the girl’s name. Another 15 minutes pass, and she comes over to let me know the new girl has invited her to her birthday party. Or maybe we could schedule a playdate.

I’ve noticed that my daughter always finds out the child’s name and then shouts greetings to her from wherever we are in the pool. “Hi, Abby!”, “Hello, Olivia!”, "See you later, Emma!"

After two weeks of watching my daughter meet new friends, the boys and I have started to feel like she is the princess sitting on top of a parade float while we are the people who walk alongside. She smiles and waves and calls out to her adoring fans as we make our way through the different parts of the aquatic park. She seems to have met half of the girls her age.

Watching my daughter has really made me think about how I interact with people in these settings.

I love to hang out with friends at the pool, and I can chat all day with someone I know. But on days when we haven’t arranged to meet friends, I usually sit quietly by myself. I hide behind a book or just sit in the water.

Why don’t I ever strike up a conversation with another mom I don't know? This week, I decided to give it a try. I have been scanning the pool for someone who looks like she might like to talk to a complete stranger. But then I start prejudging.

“She looks so perfect,” I think. “She’ll think I’m weird.”

“She looks like she has a million friends.”

“I don’t think she would want to talk to me.”

I have gathered up my nerve a few times to ask a question. “How old is your daughter?” Or, “Is this your sand bucket?” But then the conversation seems to end. I give up and decide it’s easier to be quiet and read a book.

Well, I had composed this post in my mind a few days ago, and I was going to end it here. I was planning to finish with a funny line about how I hope I can be just like my 4-year-old when I grow up.

But I have been trying the past two weeks to strike up a conversation with another mom from my daughter’s swimming class. This little girl has become one of my daughter’s many new “best friends” from our pool time.

We always say our "hellos", but she usually is busy with her younger son. She just didn’t seem like she really wanted to chat.

All week, I have had this nagging feeling that I should talk to her. “I BET you have more in common than you would ever guess!” this little voice kept telling me.

Today, the other mom asked me if my two boys, who are 8 and 6, are twins.

“No,” I laughed. “But a lot of people do ask me that.”

We started talking about our daughters. Then about schools in the area. Our conversation turned to talk of private school and Christian school and home schooling. She even attended the same home schooling conference I did a few weeks ago!

We couldn’t believe how much we had in common as we talked furiously throughout the 35-minute class.

We even got into a discussion about churches, and I found out that she really wants to attend church, but hasn’t found a good fit for her family. So, I invited her to stop by our church. And she said she WOULD! She actually seemed super excited.

Well, I wanted to ask her to be my best friend... And invite her to dinner... And maybe a movie... And then maybe her whole family could come for dinner... And who knows, maybe we could go camping together... And, and, and... maybe she could even come to my next birthday party... =]

But I decided I better not skip too far ahead with the first new friend I’ve made at the pool this summer.

I’m definitely not on par with my 4-year-old just yet. But I’m glad I listened to that small nagging voice and stepped outside of my comfort zone today.

How about you? Do you find it easy to meet new people? Or would you rather dive into a book than a conversation?

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random thursday thoughts

1. I just want you all to know that I go through each day with the same thoughts in my head:

I'm not going to update my blog today. Nope. Won't do it. I'm not gonna do it. Seriously. How much of your rambling can people really read? Today, I will keep all of my thoughts safely confined inside my head. Not gonna let 'em out. No. I. will. not. They are staying in the head.

Well... maybe I could write down just one thing. Only three paragraphs, though. Not another 1,200 word post. Nope. Gonna be short. Keeping it all inside today. Quiet. Shhh.

I think you can guess who keeps winning this battle.

2. Ummm. So, thank you for coming by. I was just wondering who you are. I see people on my stats everyday who never say a peep. Just wanted to say, "Hi!". I wish you ALL had a blog so I could read the random thoughts going through your head.

3. We're getting used to our new life here in Seattle. I might have only mentioned it 52 times, but it has rained here everyday for two dozen or more days. (Not scientific fact, just based on observation.) We're starting to actually like it.

We have gone to the pool everyday this week, despite the thunderstorms, 74 degree temps and black skies. We were cracking up yesterday. The sky was thick with dark clouds, but it wasn't supposed to rain. The pool was PACKED! The water is heated to about... I don't know... 80 degrees, so it was warmer in the water than outside.

People didn't care. They were pouring into the pool. It was like everyone had just given up on waiting for a sunny day and they were going swimming anyway.

Oh, I'm sorry. I don't REALLY live in Seattle. Because I guess it hasn't rained for 29 DAYS in Seattle! Nope. This is the Midwest. And we are used to crazy weather. We are used to snow storms. Traffic jams. Ice storms. Tornadoes. And we don't care if it rains for 24 days in a row. We're going to the pool!

4. Actually, I think I'm going to miss the cool, rainy days when they finally go away next week. We've been getting lots done indoors and reading tons of books. Our most recent favorite is "A Cricket in Times Square."

5. The kids went with me to my doctor's appointment this week so they could hear the baby's heartbeat. They were squealing and giggling with delight... Speaking of the kids, I have to write down the story of their reaction when we told them we were having a baby. It was priceless.

6. I'm trying not to write about being pregnant every second. But on Thursdays, I get to mark off another week. This week, I hit #15. The cravings aren't as bad. I still want to eat Mexican food almost everyday, but I think that was the case before. Now, it's more a matter of: "If I don't get some guacamole in the next 20 minutes, someone's gonna pay!"

Thank you to the ladies who went out to dinner with me last night. Just finished my leftovers. Yum! I also would like some PF Chang's, so give me a call if you are looking to go out to dinner. =]

7. And speaking of dinner, I'm going to make lasagna. Mmmmm. It's going to be so good.

8. Finally, my tummy is starting to puff out. It's hard to tell if you don't know me that well. Here's the pic. As you can see, I carry most of my baby weight in my arms and legs. It's kind of a new "cool" thing in pregnancy. Maybe it only affects those of us in, um, our advanced maternal age.



I know what you're going to say about the tummy... "You can't even see it."

Trust me. It's there. Here's a close-up.


See? If nothing else, we can consider that the "before" shot.

9. Now... should I hit publish? Hmmmm. Oh, what the heck.



Related posts you might like:
the midwife
jayda
advanced maternal age

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get your suits, kids! we're going to the pool if they are open or not!

We are having the best summer EVER!

The kids have been out of school for 10 days now and it has rained at least a little EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. every day. I didn't check any meteorological reports, but I'm pretty sure it has been every day.

Except the two days the kids were out of town. And I was at a conference where I had to sit indoors for 10 hours straight. It was beautiful and sunny those two days.

Today, we are making protest signs and climbing the fence at the pool. This is what the signs will say:

"We don't care if it's 60 degrees!"
"We are coming in!"
"Lightning won't hurt us!"
"We are swimming!"

If you have any better ideas for our signs, please let us know because:

"KIDS, MOMMY IS BORED!"

Oh, we have tried all the little things that we had on our list to do during those moments of downtime. I already told you how my nutso kids love doing their chores. I just realized it's because that's the most exciting thing they have to do all day long!



It's either that or math facts. They are begging me to start home schooling NOW! They think reading history is fun. THIS IS NOT RIGHT!

Oh. We have had play dates. But this involves not three, but five or six kids running up and down the stair for hours, trying to find hiding places in my closets for another round of hide-n-seek. Just like they do IN THE WINTER.

Yesterday, I took them to Wal-Mart and bought them an eight-pack of water guns. I have never purchased a gun for my children in their sweet, short lives. I thought at least they could take them outside in the bitter cold and get wet. We are lucky to hit 60 degrees in these parts.



Well, when the rain started to really pour, we were just bored of putting on rain boots and playing outside in the puddles. Come on. It's fun the first five days, but it's SUMMER!

I let them watch the same movie TWICE (OK, it was only a 45-minute movie) and then I insisted they needed at least an hour on the Wii. Yes, me! The complete anti-TV, anti-video game mom. I'm losing it people.

Tracking how much Acidophilus and Omega-3 that I give them at each meal was fun at first. But I. AM. BORED. I'm bored. Bored. Bored. Bored.



We made our dumb list of fun things to do this summer. And NOT ONE was an indoor activity.

So, please, please, please. If you live in Alaska, please tell me what you do for fun when a hot day is considered 72 degrees with only light rain.

steel-her heart

I thought that after that bombshell I dropped on y'all yesterday, that maybe today would be a good day to write about nail polish.

But if you did miss yesterday's post, it might be a good idea to go get caught up. Otherwise, you're going to be a little confused when I bring up weird stuff like why I'm eating a chicken pot pie at 9:30 p.m. Which I am. And it is so good.

Nail polish.

OK, it's sad to say, but until about five years ago, I had never even stepped foot inside a spa. Never had a massage. Or a pedicure. Definitely no manicures for me. I grew up in a small town where we went to the beauty parlor to get our hair cut and permed. And that was it.

About five years ago, my sales director with Discovery Toys invited me to hang out at a spa for a day with her and a bunch of other leaders as a Christmas gift. I was a little apprehensive at first, but after a few hours, I was hooked. Eating snacks all day. Chatting with friends. And getting spa treatments.

Hello, dear Day Spa? Where have you been all my life?

A few years later, I promoted to Sales Director, too, and started hosting spa days for the ladies I worked with. I even earned the amazing reward a few years ago of flying on a private jet to an exclusive spa in California to be pampered for three days.


I went from never-had-a-pedicure to Little Miss addicted to mud wraps, hot stone massages, chocolate scrubs and paraffin wax treatments.

But still, I see going to the spa as purely a social experience. I don't ever go by myself. I love hanging out and getting pedicures with friends.

I love a pedicure, but for the most part, I paint my nails myself. Which finally brings me to the point of this post... nail COLOR!

I love seeing how different people choose completely different colors of nail polish. What does your color choice say about you?


My friend with the sweet, quiet spirit chose the lightest color of pink on the shelf. The girl with the great tan and fun-loving attitude picked out a bright shade of coral.

In that photo, my toes were about as bright as they get in that shade of purple at the very bottom. I tend to go toward the darker hues.

What does that say about me? I like to think it means I'm creative and want to push the envelope a bit. But darker colors also seem to go better with my skin tone and match my wardrobe, which is made up entirely of black, brown, green and purple, with a little blue here and there.


I am loving my new nail polish color that I picked up for $4.99 at Target. It's called Steel-her heart by Revlon. It's a swirly metalic shade of steely grey. Depending on the light, it can look silver, grey or purple. So, it pretty much goes with all of my clothes.

It looks awesome with dressy sandals and just as good with black flip-flops. A girl should not love a nail polish color this much. It's just weird.



I think it might even replace My Private Jet by OPI as my favorite nail color. This one looks really dark in the bottle. But when you get in the sunlight, it has flecks in the polish that make it look purple or grey.

Don't worry, My Private Jet. I still love you even though the salon said you are discontinued. If I could find a case, I would buy you to keep on hand for future generations.

So, what about you? Are you a spa addict or never had a pedicure? Do you feel naked without your toes painted? And what does your color say about you?

I really DO want to know!

if you read nothing else, you might want to read this one

Have you ever had a time in your life during which everything seemed to be falling apart?

Nothing was working out as you thought it would? And then you realized later that things weren't falling apart at all, but actually falling into place?

That has sort of been the story of my life this year. It's been a few months of the unexpected. And I have debated how much of it to share here on the blog. But it's gotten to the point now that it's hard to write about day-to-day stuff without filling you in on the bigger picture.

For those of you who are around me in real life, you know many of the facts of this story. I hope you will read it anyway.

It's always a little scary to get too personal here since you really don't know WHO might be reading at any time. And once you put something out there, it's OUT THERE.

But I have some things that I really need to tell you. I have a million funny stories I've had to hold back, so I'm ready to just lay it all out.

So, hold on.

I apologize in advance that it's the longest post in the history of the universe. I have edited this post a hundred times over the last six weeks, but I just can't tell you this story without telling the whole story. I promise, you will want to read to the end.

It might be a little more serious than usual. I hope you'll stick with it anyway.

Here we go!

**

This year has felt really odd to me right from the start.

When January rolled around, instead of plotting out all of my goals for the year, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do.

I just sat. And prayed. And asked God, "Isn't there more than this? What should I be doing with my time this year?"

I was really excited about a Bible study that I would be starting in a few weeks with a group of women from my church.

We were doing a study called, "Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman."

I was excited about starting this study because the theme of this book of the Bible seemed to hit me right where I was at in life.

For such a time as this.

If you don't know much about it, Esther was the quintessential example of being in the right place at the right time. Actually, she was right where God needed her to be at exactly His perfect time.

Adopted by her uncle, Esther won a beauty contest to become the queen of Persia. Thrown into this place of power, she was able to save her people, the Jews, from annihilation. She was right where she needed to be for such a time as this.

Well, my life certainly wasn't at such an extreme turning point as Esther's. But I felt that I was reaching a crossroads. And I was asking God why he had placed me here, now, and which direction I should go. I was praying that during the study, the path would become clear.

**

During the past eight years of being a mom, I felt like I had become an expert at juggling.

With three kids each born less than two years apart, I have balanced and organized and created systems to make things work. I have run a successful business out of my home during naps and room time and Barney and puzzles.

But finally, the path in front of me was starting to look wide and clear.

Both boys would be in school all day in the fall. And my daughter, who has been hanging out with Mom this year, would be starting three-day preschool. I could only imagine those hours of 9 to 11:30 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

That would give me 7.5 hours a week for me. Me. Me. Me.

Imagine, 7.5 hours that were all mine. MINE!

But what exactly should I be doing with that time?

Move ahead with my business? Focus more time on ministry at church? Pursue some other dreams, like publishing my everydayMOM planner? Or try something new?

With my 40th birthday approaching, it almost seemed symbolic. A new decade. New opportunities. New goals.

For such a time as this.

But little did I know that wasn't all that was happening in my life...

**

Many of you were here with me when I started the countdown to my 40th birthday. Oh, that beautiful 40 days of 40.

I realize that numbers aren't that big of a deal to a lot of people. But for me, my milestone birthday seemed symbolic in so many ways. A fresh start. A chance to try something new.

And I was staring at those 7.5 hours of free time with great anticipation.

Then, in early March things started to change. You might have gathered from some of my previous posts that one of my children has some struggles in school.

We have been to all sorts of specialists looking for direction. To say it's been a confusing journey with lots of conflicting information would be an understatement.

What I had assumed to be a given for the next school year was suddenly in doubt. My modus operandi at this point would typically be to start spinning in a mad fury to find another solution. But this time, I felt an immense sense of peace.

Wait. Just wait.

God had a plan for my son. And even though the path looked cloudy and full of obstacles, we would find a way. And that way would. be. good.

To make a very long story short, we are considering the idea of homeschooling. This, in and of itself, is a minor miracle. I'm not sure who was more repulsed by the idea in the past. Me or my kids? I have never wanted to be a teacher. I don't like to teach. I would rather do anything than try to be a teacher. And I would like my kids to have a teacher who isn't ME!

But as we have delved further into the issues we face, it seemed to become more and more clear that perhaps the best person for this job is actually the last person I would expect. Me.

**

Umm. But maybe you forgot about my 7.5 hours? My time to pursue my dreams? My. My. My. Me?

A homeschool mom? Ugh. Not exactly what I had planned for my glorious 7.5 hours of weekly freedom!

But I was starting to warm up to the idea. Not that I could envision wonderful lesson plans and creative learning strategies. But I could imagine a child who wasn't frustrated with trying to keep up with his class. A kid who had time in his day to focus on the areas that were holding him back. And an 8-year-old who had time to play. Who wasn't stressed. Or crying.

And that was starting to motivate me.

Oh, but there's more...

**

Let me go back and tell you about something else that was happening during this time.

As much as I try not to mention this in every conversation, many people know that for the past two or three years I have been a little obsessed with the idea that someone is missing from our family.

Yes, missing.

It's like there's a hole in my heart. The hole of a fourth child.

I want to cry every time my daughter brings a new imaginary sibling into the family. I was afraid to let my husband give away the crib and the strollers. I often think that we have deprived someone of life. And I think about it ... a lot.

So, as I approached my 40th birthday, the pain of this obsession increased. My husband and I had already ruled out the possibility of me giving birth to another child, and once I passed that 40th threshold, it just seemed that the door would be slammed shut.

I started talking to my husband about adoption. But the expense and time involved seemed overwhelming.

I did my best to stop obsessing about this longing, but it was getting worse.

I knew I had to give it to God. It seemed to me that if my heart was wanting something so badly, that perhaps He put that desire there to begin with. And if He did, then He could show us how it would come to be. Or he could take it away.

I decided it was up to Him. I had no answer. My husband had no answer for me.

But just as I was starting to celebrate my 40 days of 40, God was giving us an answer. We just didn't know it yet...

**

It was April 6. I needed to make a doctor's appointment.

I knew that the doctor would ask me if there was any way that I could be pregnant. I knew the answer was no. But I really couldn't explain some mysterious symptoms I was having.

Fine. I'm just going to prove this to myself. I don't know WHAT is happening, but it can't be THAT!

I waited for the biggest waste of $10 on the planet to reveal the information I already knew perfectly well. There was no way.

But something wasn't quite right. Why was that dim pink line starting to form? That will go away in a minute.

Wait. I better re-read the directions. I thought it said the second line was the control. Not the first.

Maybe it's upside down.

Hang on. The second line is pink now, too.

For. such. a. time. as. THIS?!?

**

I started to cry. I was overwhelmed by panic. Then fear. Then shock.

And then a calm washed over me. I had a moment of complete clarity: For some reason, God in heaven stopped what he was doing and reached down and gave me a gift. I prayed. He listened. He answered.

Trust Him.

There are so many worries that try to pop in my mind. I have grown to hate the three words, "advanced maternal age" and all they represent.

But I am blessed. God has given me a gift. He has given our family a gift. And he knows exactly what gift we need most.

One of the biggest lessons we learned during our Esther study was about THE HOW? We aren't responsible for THE HOW. God will take care of THE HOW.

When I'm looking at a situation thinking HOW will I ever get through this one, there's one simple answer. He is there with me. He will get me through it.

**

I have been waking up every morning for the last few months wondering if this is a dream.

Then, the nausea and fatigue set in and I come back to life. It's real. It's crazy. It's not what I expected. It's a gift.

I was at a crossroads five months ago when I started asking God which direction I should turn. A detour popped up along the path. It wasn't the wide, open road that looked so sunny and easy to travel. But, as a friend mentioned during our study, sometimes you realize that the detour IS the path.

It could be a crazy ride.

Homeschooling three kids.

A newborn in the family.

I definitely won't be worrying about what to do with my 7.5 hours of freedom.

It's not the gift I expected for my 40th birthday.

But I couldn't be more thankful.




Related posts you might like:
the midwife
jayda
advanced maternal age

hello, handbags

One of my favorite things about my husband's trips to China... hang on a sec... I meant to say, The only thing I like about my husband's trips to China is when he goes shopping for me at the Ladies' Market.

He has started bringing me purses.

This is the one he got me on his most recent trip.


It's really soft leather. And the inside is super soft, too.

Usually, the Ladies' Market has the latest styles that will be making their way to America. So, I'm hoping that my new purse is really hip and cool. I'm just not sure yet.

I keep wishing someone in her 20s would come up to me and tell me she loves my purse! This morning at church, a high school girl and her mom were poking each other and pointing at it. The mom told me she got one that was similar at a flea market.

I'm not sure if that's good or bad.


This is the purse he got me last year. My fake Coach. Why do I feel the need to tell everyone, "It's fake" when they say they like it?

Maybe I'm more proud of the fact my husband got me a fake Coach for $10 off the street in China than I would be if I had paid for a real Coach. Yep. I'm proud of my cheap-o-ness.


The purse purchases started a few years ago when my husband came home with this purse. It was for my 2-year-old daughter.


"Where's mine?" I asked.

"I thought you had a purse."

Oh my. That was the day my husband learned that just because a woman has one purse does not mean she doesn't need six more. I guess he wasn't that good at math.


While I'm on the topic of purses, this is the bag I picked out for myself for Mother's Day. Bass Pro Shop. Go figure.

I thought it was kind of nice for summer.


It love using it to carry around all of my junk when I'm going to be stuck sitting somewhere for a while. It's the perfect size for my everydayMOM planner, too.

Maybe I should start selling it as an accessory?

What do you think? Does a new purse or handbag make you as happy as it makes me?