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Deep and Funny

January 24, 2012 by

A Party Pic Circa 1996. I lifted this off Facebook, so it was already out for the masses to see and laugh at. Good times.

You know when you want to write something really deep and poignant and you feel like it’s all just right beneath the surface, but for some reason you can’t dig it out of your brain because you’re bone tired and you can’t seem to string a coherent thought together other than, “Geez I’m glad Facebook wasn’t around when I was in high school“?

Yeah…that’s super fun.

OR…

You know when you decide to scratch the idea of being super deep and poignant and you decide to write something that’s wickedly funny, that’s sure to make people laugh until they cry and share until it goes viral, but you realize that you can’t dig any humor out because you’re bone tired and all you can think about is how much you would have embarrassed yourself if Facebook had been around in high school?

That’s swell.

Then remember that time when you used the word “swell” while writing a hypothetical post and you began to wonder whether or not you could incorporated the words “rad,” “groovy,” and “righteous” into the same sentence without being too obvious that you were just trying to complete an exercise in writing through writer’s block?

That rules.

Remember that time when you realized the movie Reality Bites is coming up on its 18th anniversary and you remember watching it when it first came out on VHS?

Um…that kinda bites.

You know how sometimes it’s best to say nothing at all, but you feel compelled to say something because if you say nothing people might think you have nothing to say, when really you have tons to say but you’re just tired so you just start typing nonsense thinking that something really deep or really funny, (or maybe something deeply funny?) will spill forth from your fingertips but then you realize that you’re pumping a dry well and the best thing to do is shut up and go to sleep?

That’s good advice. Shut up. We don’t say that word in our house. Unless you mean it and it’s necessary.

I’m kidding.

As far as you know, anyway.

Remember that time you scoured the internet looking for some bit of current news you could use as a launch pad for a post, but instead of reading up on the important matters of the world, you got sucked into celebrity gossip and before you knew it you were yelling at the computer, infuriated by yet another celebrity couple telling the world, “we just grew apart” and you wanted to hulk smash something because you’re tired of marriage being so quickly cast aside?

And then you stumbled over this video that caused you to forget all about the selfish celebrities of the world and instead crumble into a puddle of tears and long to adopt a baby or four from every single country in the world?

This then leads you down memory lane to the day you called your husband sobbing after watching Oprah one afternoon and her coverage of the underground slave trade of young girls in Romania. “We need to go to Romania today and bring home three or four little girls,” you cried. Then your husband asked you not to watch Oprah anymore.

Remember that? That was super.

This is all hypothetical, of course. Merely conjecture. I clearly need to go to bed. Or drink a glass of wine. Or both.

Of course, if any of this were true and did happen to actually spin through my mind, I would tell you that I came up with more than one Status Update circa 1996. And I may have developed a few from 1995, 1994 and 1993, too. I said MAY.

STATUS UPDATE: Last night’s episode of ER was the bomb. Dr. Ross is sooooo hot. (Maybe I would have spelled it hott?)

STATUS UPDATE: Today was, like, so lame. Someone played “I Like It, I Love It” on the cafeteria juke box like 52 times. Ick. Hate that song.

STATUS UPDATE: I hit a parked car at the Homecoming football game tonight. OMG. I’m gonna die of embarrassment. #imadope

STATUS UPDATE: Tonight at the dance the DJ played “Shake Your Rump!” and “Ice, Ice Baby.” #bestsongsever

STATUS UPDATE: OMG! Like, I totally made Hockey Cheerleading today. #wickedawesome

STATUS UPDATE: Wait…why do hockey players need cheerleaders? Can they even hear us behind that glass? #confused

STATUS UPDATE: Reality totally bites. And Winona Ryder is, like, the coolest girl ever.

So tell me, my friends, what would your high school self’s Facebook Status say? We’d all love to know.


Filed Under: blast from the past, Random Tagged With: , , ,

The one where we go on a date.

January 24, 2012 by

I gave him a goal to start the year. A goal for my first born with a natural bent for learning, but not a love for the process. “If you finish two books before the month is over, I will take you some place extra special – just you and me.”

That’s all he needed. Motivated by encouragement and a promise, he zipped through two books in less than two weeks. Perhaps the goal was too easy, but I wanted it to be attainable. I wanted him to succeed because I wanted to reward him. And today, the reward comes to be.

Sloan and I are headed to Busch Gardens today, just the two of us. Wendy wrote a whole series of posts on dating our sons (and daughters) and every post was precious, but I was particularly fond of this one. One of our Christmas gifts from my parents was season passes to Busch Gardens and I am so excited to break in those passes with Sloan.

Of my three children, fostering a relationship with Sloan has been the most difficult journey, mainly because he and I are so very much alike in a lot of ways and so very different in other ways. Add to that the fact that he is simply getting older and he needs to be fusing more to his Dad at this time in his life, and you have a recipe for hard moments in our sometimes long days.

Sloan and I need to have some uninterrupted, do what we want, no-one-pulling-my-attention-away fun and tomorrow will be that day. The weather is going to be beautiful (seriously, I totally get why people come to Florida for the winter – it’s freaky awesome), and we are going to ride rides, play games and simply enjoy one another with no set schedule.

It’s been way too long since I dated my son.

So that’s where I am today. I’m building an altar with my cherished first born; an altar of remembrance to look back on with grace and fondness and, hopefully, a few secretive giggles. A lifetime’s worth of memories awaits us.

*happy dance*

Happy Tuesday, everyone.

Filed Under: Family, Florida, Kids, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: , ,

Sports World

January 23, 2012 by

BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT! BRAG ALERT!

My husband is a freakishly good athlete. It’s actually annoying, really, how good he is a sports. He can play pretty much any sport well and when I say well, I mean better than the average population.

In college, one of my favorite past times was rollerblading. Oftentimes, I went out with a bunch of guy friends and I prided myself in being able to at least keep up with them as we buzzed around the Baylor campus, leaping down flights of stairs and doing various tricks without helmets…

So when Lee and I were dating and he told me he had never been on roller blades, I jumped at the chance to take him because I figured finally something I could do better.

Within fifteen minutes on his roller blades he was jumping, turning circles, skating backwards and doing tricks I would never even dare to try.

Punk.

It is with a small ridiculously large amount of glee that I tell you, however, that my husband can’t water ski to save his life. Image Gumby trying to get up on skis and that is about what Lee looks like. It is like a balm to my wounded pride to watch him water ski because I can do that better!

Anyway, the point is, my husband is an amazing athlete. He was a full ride scholarship collegiate basketball player. He was asked to play basketball professionally in Germany just before we got married. And we declined. It is our greatest regret to this day.

So it’s no surprise that I have three kids who are all good little athletes, with the youngest being so much like his Dad it’s a little eery. Landon is a natural with a ball. He always has been. Remember this video?

If you can get past my husband’s glaring hotness you’ll see a then 18 month old Landon dribbling the ball beautifully. Today, he can dribble with both hands while walking. Lee has him dribbling to the beat of music and many days, when he’s decided he’s had enough of the school thing, I can hear the basketball rhythmically bouncing outside…or inside.

And this Saturday, Landon’s four year old dreams came true when he got to start basketball. It was just a YMCA league so we could start slow, but Landon didn’t care. As we headed out Saturday morning, he confidently told us he was headed to the NBA finals.

Tell me, is there anything cuter than a four year old playing basketball?

Defense!

He scored four out of the five baskets his team made.

Landon isn’t the only Stuart child to get their father’s athleticism, though. Sloan is also a pretty amazing little athlete. While he enjoys basketball, the agression of that sport doesn’t match his personality, but baseball and golf are right up his alley.

In fact, we had a pro golf player pull us aside last week and tell us to start getting Sloan lessons and enrolling him in tournaments because he’s a natural with the golf club. “He could be great,” the instructor told us and I believe it. I’ve always known Sloan was gifted in golf, but it was so nice to hear it affirmed by someone else.

I don’t know much about golf, but apparently this is a great swing. I have pictures of him doing this when he was three. The first time we took Sloan to the driving range, he had just turned three. Lee set down a golf and we watched as he hit ball after ball anywhere from 25 to 50 yards.

College ticket?

And of course, Tia loves gymnastics and while she isn’t quite as coordinated with a ball, I could see her being a great soccer player. Mainly because I think she’ll bowl over anyone who tries to take the ball from her. She may have inherited the full brunt of her Daddy’s competitiveness.

Honestly, all three of my kids could grow up to be just average athletes. It doesn’t matter to me whether they’re great at sports or not. I want them to play what they love and love what they play. Sports are secondary. More than anything, though, I love the relationship that is growing between us and the kids as we bond over athletics. It’s fun. We love to go out in the yard as a family and just play.

And this picture is worth far more than any word I’ve typed today. It communicates wholly and fully the love and admiration that my kids have for their Dad and there’s a reason for that.

As good as Lee is as an athlete, he far more excels at being a father.

My children are blessed. (I might be, too).

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Lee, Sports Tagged With: , ,

McKenna: An All American Girl

January 18, 2012 by

Did you know I’m a ninja? Seriously, I’m like the master at stealth. I’m so good that sometimes?

Sometimes I take myself by surprise.

For example, today’s post about the recent launch of American Girl’s newest Girl of the Year, McKenna comes right on the heels of my post about gymnastics and what an impact that sport has had on my life and continues to have through my daughter.

And it just so happens that McKenna’s story is a gymnastics story.

See how I did that? You might be prone to think that I planned these two posts so that one followed the other – that I worked a bit of organizational magic. But if that’s what you thought, you would be wrong. I placed these two posts side by side without even thinking about it.

Because I’m that good…

Ahem.

So American Girl has officially launched McKenna and I couldn’t be more in love with this new doll. She’s adorable (no surprise there) and her story is inspirational as you would only expect from American Girl. I can’t wait to show Tia this new doll.

From American Girl: McKenna’s story is about a young gymnast who overcomes her struggles with reading by using her strengths. Through tutoring, friendship, and hard work, McKenna gradually develops a renewed, deeper confidence in her abilities. She learns that confidence lies in balancing strengths with weaknesses and using what you know to master what you don’t know. We hope that girls who read McKenna’s stories discover that by focusing on their strengths they can achieve great things, whether it is in academics or any other activities they want to pursue.

McKenna’s story is a chance for young girls to relate to the challenges and obstacles that come with passion and drive. McKenna loves her sport and excels in it, but when she struggles in another area of life, namely academics, she has to admit that she needs help. Mary Casanova, author of the two McKenna books, took some time to share a bit of her heart behind writing McKenna’s story.

“There are many aspects to McKenna’s story that I hope will inspire young girls,” says Casanova. “When McKenna struggles with reading and faces academic challenges at school, she must admit that she needs help and also be willing to accept help to overcome her challenges. That’s not an easy thing to do. It would be wonderful if success in one area, such as sports, equated success in every other area, such as academics. But life doesn’t always work that way. That’s why one of the life skills that is emphasized in the McKenna books is: finding balance.”

With this idea in mind, American Girl has partnered with Save the Children in support of their U.S. Literacy Program. By introducing a companion nonfiction book, Take the Challenge!, featuring various activities, games, and quizzes, American Girl strives to help girls explore their different strengths and abilities. And for every trophy a girl earns through the McKenna Take the Challenge online activity, American Girl is donating $.25 (up to a maximum of $50,000) to help Save the Children supply the tools children in grades K-8 need to increase their reading achievement and provide the guidance and support they need to grow as readers.

In addition to the Take the Challenge initiative,  American Girl will continue its partnership with Save the Children in May as part of their Summer Reading initiative, where they will be donating $1.00 (up to a maximum of $100,000) for every American Girl book purchased in the proprietary channels during the promotional time frame. More information on the initiative will be available on the American Girl website later this spring.

I’m not going to lie – American Girl dolls bring out the little girl in me. I may, or may not, have spent time brushing and fixing the hair of Tia’s dolls by myself on more than one occasion. I mean, I’m not saying for sure, but there’s a chance that that’s happened.

More and more, though, I find myself impressed with the company itself and their heartfelt desire to encourage and build up little girls. If any of you were thinking about taking the plunge into American Girl, McKenna is a great place to start – particularly if you have a little girl who needs a little inspiration and encouragement. Visit American Girl.com for more information.

Disclaimer: I am working in conjunction with American Girl to promote the launch of the Girl of the Year, McKenna. In return for my help, I received a McKenna doll. I was not compensated for this post and all opinions expressed are my own. I am grateful to American Girl for the opportunity.

Filed Under: Product Reviews, Tia Tagged With: , , , ,

All I know about gymnastics I learned at WOGA

January 17, 2012 by

update: We attended a different gym yesterday where Tia was evaluated by a new coach. It was a wonderful experience for me and for her. This coach was extremely encouraging and kind. He actually smiled and praised Tia. Thank you for your encouragement and prayers. Now I have to have the unpleasant conversation with her current gym about why we will be leaving.

Good times…

“You want a job?” he asked in his thick accent and I blinked in surprise. I had only stopped by to meet some local Russians so I could have contacts that would help me practice my language skills. I hadn’t even been thinking of asking for a job, but as I looked around the building I could see something special there so without missing a beat, I answered.

“Da.”

It was August of 2000 and I had been married all of one month. Neither Lee nor I had jobs when we got married. It was very exciting then. Or stressful.

Depends on who you ask.

We moved to Dallas after marriage because we thought Lee had a job lined up there, but it fell through on our honeymoon. I had just graduated from Baylor with a degree in English Professional Writing so it only seemed natural that I should work as a gymnastics coach.

The plan was for me to work at the World Olympic Gymnastics Academy for a little while until I found a full time job, but unexpectedly, coaching at WOGA wound up being the best job I’ve ever had. I loved it so much, in fact, that I continued to work there for two years. While I interviewed for some real, big girl office jobs, I just couldn’t leave the gym.

The environment was so electric that many days I went into work early just to watch the girls train. I watched Carly Patterson learn her famous Arabian dismount and and marveled at a teeny tiny Nastia Liukin flipping up and over the vault.

You never knew who else would be at WOGA, either. Some days you might walk in to see the cast of the Cirque Du Soleil warming up and practicing. Other times I came face to face with five time Olympian Oksana Chusivitania. It was always a surprise coming to work and I loved it.

One of the saddest things about moving away from Dallas was having to leave WOGA. It wasn’t just my work place. The coaches all became dear friends. Because I spoke Russian, Lee and I spent a lot of time with Evgeny Marchenko, Valeryi Liukin and the many, many other wonderful Russian coaches. For me, working there was like a dream. I was paid well and I got to speak Russian every single day.

Having grown up around gymnastics and working in that environment, I have a pretty good understanding of what good coaching is. I watched two All Round Gold Medalists train in their early years and I was mentored and guided as a coach myself. I know what good coaching looks like.

Unfortunately, for the last few months I have had my daughter in a bad coaching environment.

Tia is very good at gymnastics, but I’m a realist. Her daddy is six foot two and I’m five six so math tells me that she is probably going to outgrow gymnastics pretty quickly. I’m not looking to create a champion, but I do want to give her the chance to succeed in a sport she loves for as long as she loves it.

Sadly, the coaches at the gym we’ve had her at have almost killed her love of gymnastics.

Never in my life have I witnessed coaching like this, particularly from a head coach in charge of running the team program. I should have pulled Tia out of this program months ago, but I kept talking to other parents who would assure me this woman wasn’t that bad and she really was good with the kids and everyone who gives her a chance ends up loving her.

I gave her a chance for three months. It’s not working. Every time we need to leave for gymnastics, Tia develops a stomach ache and gets very weepy. She is terrified of this coach – and this woman doesn’t even coach Tia’s team. But she’s in close proximity screaming and shouting at other girls. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it and I worried it was just me.

Maybe I’m too judgemental? Maybe my experience at WOGA turned me into a coaching snob. Nobody else seemed as offended by this coach’s cruelty, so what is my problem?

Saturday I volunteered at a meet at the girl’s gym where I watched the little ones, levels two and three, compete. They didn’t do great, but it was their first meet and good grief they were cute in their little leotards and sparkly hair. As this coach walked by, I remarked, “The girls are doing great.” She cut her eyes at me and shrugged. “Your job is to be encouraging and tell them they’re great,” she said. “My job is to tell them they are never good enough. Unless they make it to State. Then I can tell them they’re good.”

And then I scraped my jaw off the floor, picked up my things and began researching new programs.

Yesterday I called another gym to talk to them about their team program. I wanted to be sensitive to the situation. While I find the coach’s methods at our current gym just short of abusive, I am not going to bad mouth her around town. So I delicately asked, “Do you all make gymnastics fun? Because my daughter is five and I just want her to enjoy it, not spend an hour and a half doing sit ups and pull ups and being barked at to suck in her stomach.”

“Aaahhh…” said the coach on the other end of the phone, “You must be coming from —. We have 2-3 new gymnasts enrolling in our gym every week who are coming from that gym and I can promise you, we do things differently here.”

So it turns out I’m NOT the only one appalled by bad coaching.

If you feel so led, please say a prayer for my sweet daughter’s heart as we try out this new gym. At this point, I think she may be slightly traumatized and we’ve already decided that if we need to pull her out of gymnastics for awhile (or forever) we will. While good coaching can take little girls to the gold medal platform, bad coaching has the power to kill their dreams altogether.

I’m kicking myself for waiting this long.

Filed Under: Kids, Motherhood, Sports, Tia Tagged With: , ,

The Migraine

January 16, 2012 by

No post today. I’m recovering from a wicked headache that’s left me feeling sluggish, tired and a fuzzy-brained. So for fun I give you the video Lee and I made last year.

We are such dorks.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Filed Under: Minivans, Random Tagged With: , ,

Pass the Bon Bon’s Please

January 13, 2012 by

I’m writing this with a cup of coffee by my side. My hair is a mess and I have no make up on. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet and so far all I’ve managed to accomplish this morning is putting a few dishes in the sink, dressing my four year old (and doling out a few dozen kisses and hugs) and eating some eggs that my husband made for me.

You heard that, right?

I didn’t even make breakfast for anyone this morning. My oldest fed his sister, my husband fed me and the four year old doesn’t want to eat.

Some would call me lazy. Literally. Watch this clip. Those two women think I’m lazy and that I’m using my family as an excuse to not take care of responsibilities.

I watched this clip last night with a bit of amusement because, really? Are we really still having this debate? Did someone really spend time and money on research to determine that working moms are happier than stay at home moms?

And what qualifies happier? What does that even mean?

If I can get my obviously underused brain charged enough to make a decent argument, I would tell you that I think the panel of women featured on this segment do not speak for the majority of women. I get it. Controversial statements like “stay at home moms are lazy” stir emotion and emotion increases viewership.

Good job Mr. Cooper.

But really? Is anyone else tired of this argument? For every study that says working moms are happier, there is one that says kids are better off with a parent at home. And what does every single one of these arguments do for us moms?

Keeps us locked in guilt.

Working moms feel guilty that they can’t provide the stable environment that “the studies” claim children need and stay at home moms feel guilty for not being “more responsible” and contributing financially to the family. You know what I say?

STOP IT!

Motherhood is hard. It’s the hardest thing any of us will ever do. And if you’re not outright abusing or neglecting your child, then chances are you are doing everything in your power to do the right thing for him. I have friends who work outside the home not because they have to, but because they love it. They love their jobs and working outside the home gives them joy and pleasure.

This makes me happy.

I have friends who work outside the home because they have to. The circumstances of life simply require this of them and though they may not love it, they do it everyday with grateful hearts because in this economy, if you have a job that’s a good thing.

Most of my friends, however, are like me. Staying home by choice. Sure we could all work if we wanted to, but we don’t want to (most days – let’s face it…we all dream of escaping some days) and we are blessed to not have to. And we are okay for it.

We’re all okay. So let’s quit judging one another and start supporting each other instead.

Working women around the world this morning got up, showered, fed their kids and got everyone out the door on time. My hat is off to all of you.

Stay at home moms around the world got up this morning, some showered (well done!), fed their kids and got them out the door on time this morning. I praise you for it.

Home school moms around the world this morning got up, some showered (seriously…I am amazed by you), fed their children and pulled out the books to begin teaching and training their children this morning. Way to go!

All of us, though, got up this morning and straightened our shoulders, ready to face another day as a Mom. Ready to fight the battle as a Mom. We all accomplished something great this morning – we got up and set forth to conquer another day. We all deserve a trophy.

How could we ever classify one another as lazy? I don’t understand this. This argument is as ancient as is the idea that women sit at home in the afternoons eating Bon Bons and watching soaps. Honestly…I would like to see a show of hands. Have a single one of you ever eaten Bon Bons and watched soaps in the middle of the day? EVER?!

I’ve never even seen a Bon Bon. Seriously. I don’t know what they look like.

We’re not lazy, Moms. And we’re all on the same team. Instead of judging and tearing each other down, let’s help each other out. Do you know a working mom who is frazzled and needs a little extra help with the kids or around the house? Help her! Offer to pick the kids up from day care once a week or pick up her groceries for her every once in awhile.

Do you know a stay at home mom who is fraying, at the end of her rope having not had a chance to get away in awhile. Help her out! Offer to take the kids out for ice cream so she can have thirty minutes alone, or ask her to meet you for coffee one evening for grown up conversation.

What if, instead of calling names and slinging labels – she doesn’t care, she’s lazy, she’s irresponsible, she’s selfish – we filled in the gaps for one another? What if we all stopped every once in awhile and ate Bon Bons together.

That’s assuming we can find them, of course. I’ve a sneaking suspicion that Bon Bons are a mythical food conjured up for the sole purpose of adding to this ridiculous argument.

No more judging, Moms and no more debating. Let’s fight the fight together. Who’s with me?!

To watch more of the ridiculousness, click here.

Filed Under: Domesticity, Family, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

Good, Kind, Important

January 10, 2012 by

I read The Help this summer as we made our long and exhausting move from St. Louis to Florida. I was emotionally vulnerable and the book was the perfect escape during that first week we were here. I got lost in the story, the rich development of the characters taking me out of my momentary troubles and giving me someone to root for.

I was most struck by the relationship between Aibileen and Mae Mobly, the little girl she watched and loved. Aibileen took it upon herself to make sure that little girl knew and understood her value and her worth.

“You is good. You is kind. You is important,” Aibileen crooned to Mae Mobley over and over in an attempt to undo the emotional harm and pressure the child received from her young, inexperienced and judgemental mother. This relationship was precious and I bawled, both in the book and in the movie, as Aibileen walked away from Mae Mobly after giving her one last reminder.

“You is good. You is kind. You is important.

I’ve thought about this a lot as I’ve parented my children these last few months – particularly as I have schooled them at home. I will be the first to admit my weaknesses as a mother. While I am constantly challenging my children to be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry I myself am not always following that.

I am slow to listen, quick to speak harshly and even quicker to become angry. And in so doing, I tear my children down. I. Hate. That.

Sloan takes the brunt of my quick to become angryness. Mostly because he is equally quick, and perhaps even quicker, to become angry and I react. It’s not that I don’t try to stay calm and patient. I try and I try and I try. And he pushes and he pushes and he pushes.

Round and round we go until one of us snaps. On the precious few days when I manage to not be the one to snap I collapse into bed exhausted and depleted of all sense of myself. Most days, however, I crawl into bed heavy hearted at once again losing control of my own emotions. And I wonder…

Does he know that he is good and kind and important? If I think back on the days events have I given him any reason to believe that I see him as good…and kind…and important?

The thought that perhaps my child is going to sleep unsure of these things can be paralyzing. He knows I love him. He knows this because I tell him all the time. A hundred times a day he hears me say I love him and I sincerely mean it when I say it. I love that child fiercely.

But does he know how good I think he is? Does he know that I think him to be one of the kindest young boys I’ve ever known? Does he know how important he is not only to me, but to so many others? Does he know?

Today found Sloan and me locked in yet another battle of the wills. Each day is new and yet each day is the same. It’s a battle and a war and some days I feel like I am losing. I’m at battle with all three children, of course. You’re at battle with your kids, too, if you think about it. We’re all fighting the war against their sinful natures and desires. We all wake up each morning and walk into the battle zone and it’s a war we must win when they are young and their hearts are pliable and easily molded.

As I felt the frustration bubble up inside of me, I looked into his challenging eyes and saw so much anger. So much confusion. You see, Sloan isn’t the only child needing correction in our home, but he receives it more than the others. This is partly his fault and partly mine. He tries to parent the other two kids and gets in my way and so I have to deal with him before I can deal with them. But many times I deal only with him and forget to correct the other two for pestering and nagging him in the first place. And Sloan feels worn down – I can see it.

So after a particularly grueling hour of back and forth, I stopped and grabbed his hand. I was angry and he could tell, but I was fighting against the anger with every fiber. Looking deep into his baby blues, I spoke softly.

“Do you know that you’re good?” I asked. He blinked, surprised by my reaction.

“Do you know that I think you’re amazing? I think you are kind and gentle and humble. Do you know how good you are?”

Slowly, he nodded his head yes.

“Do you know that I think you’re important? You’re important to me and you’re important to God. Do you know that?”

Again he nodded, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Good,” I said, the anger melting away. “I want you to know that.”

I’d like to say his behavior changed and that he was immediately kinder and gentler with me and his brother and sister. It didn’t exactly work that way, but as the day went on, when he lost control I would look him in the eye and raise my eyebrows and he would stop and nod.

He knows.

He does know. And my prayer tonight is that he would embrace those things and bury them deep. Tomorrow is another day of battle and I feel more prepared now that I’ve added another weapon to my arsenal. We’re going to win this war, he and I. He’s too good and too kind and too important for me to give up on.

Losing is not an option.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Kids, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: , , , , ,

The one where we get cozy

January 9, 2012 by

My parents are remodeling their condo and in so doing they needed to get rid of some furniture. So we sacrificially chose to relieve them of said furniture out of the goodness of our selfless hearts.

Stand back. I might get struck by lightening.

In the eleven years that we have been married Lee and I have bought exactly six pieces of furniture. Everything else has been given to us by our parents. Couches, chairs, beds, buffets, cribs, dressers and on and on. We live in a house full of hand me downs…and we love it.

Mostly because these hand me downs are…kind of gorgeous.

We set up this entertainment center this weekend along with a couch and two oversized chairs. It looks so good, we might need to get cable.

Just kidding.

Maybe.

This room, which has been cluttered and kind of boring since we moved in, looks down right cozy now. It’s livable and functional and…pretty.

Of course, my total lack of style and inability to decorate is on broad display now that I have this fancy furniture in my house. My bare walls scream at me and look at that pitiful fireplace mantle and the bare, empty shelves on the entertainment center. Folks, I literally have nothing to put in those places.

No-thing.

This is where my pinterest friends tell me that I can get all kind of ideas if I would just give pinterest a try and I promise you all *holds up three fingers* I am trying.

You can’t understand what pinterest does to a non-creative, non-crafty person like me, though. It literally makes my head spin and my throat close. The overwhelming cuteness and undeniable style that floats through those web pages leaves me feeling entirely incapable of pulling anything off. I don’t have cute knick knacks to put on the shelves. I have books and picture frames. And a C-3PO doll that Sloan dug out of his toy box and wrapped up for me for Christmas.

What do I do?!

This is such a first world problem. Seriously, I don’t care that much…except when I get on pinterest and I curse my inability to create beauty out of paper clips and a toilet paper roll.

But wait! There’s more. Look at how this room, which was completely empty two days ago, turned out when we moved our couch and chair and piano into it.

Isn’t it happy? And the best part of it is that every item in that room was lovingly donated to us by our parents. The couch, chair and buffet belonged to Lee’s grandmother. The piano is the same one I learned to play on (and subsequently forgot how to play) as a child. The blanket was a wedding gift.

I also love this little corner.

We are so blessed.

I need want something for the wall above the piano and again something for the back of the piano to dress up the room. I’m open to suggestions. Seriously, friends. I stink at decorating. I have some Christmas money saved so I am hoping to get out sometime soon and maybe get a few things to set out.

This is where I open it up to you all. What do I do and how do I decorate? If the suggestion requires me using a hot glue gun or a needle and thread, however, just know now that I appreciate it, but I will likely never do that. I need my decorations cheap, but pre-packaged. Martha Stewart, I am not.

In all seriousness, there are people all over the world who will never understand this problem and I recognize that and humbly walk the halls of my home grossly aware of how much we have. I am constantly praying that my home will be a blessing to those who enter and that I will never take it for granted. Ever. I am grateful for this space that we have, but I hold it loosely with outstretched hands.

So what say you, bloggy friends? What do I need to do to make our space finally feel complete?

 

Filed Under: Domesticity, Life, Random Tagged With: , , ,

Yoga in the fetal position

January 9, 2012 by

Last night I decided it was time to get my lazy behind up and actually work it out a bit. I have always been an active person and have been an avid worker outer (my blog…I say that’s a word) since I was in high school and my track coach taught us all the finer points of navigating a weight room. From that moment on, I have made sure I had access to a gym and I exercised faithfully.

Until we moved.

Something switched off inside of me when we moved down here. Part of the problem was the stress of moving, which working out would have helped with but the other half of the equation is the fact that we decided to save some money by not enrolling in a gym. “We can just work out at home,” Lee said matter of factly.

My husband grossly underestimates my motivation and drive.

It’s true, we have a lot of weights, and we have a work out bench and a pull up bar. We have plenty for me to use, but the final nail in my active coffin was a complete lack of desire. With the kids home all day, working out didn’t feel like an escape anymore – it felt like a chore. And so I stopped.

For the first time in twenty years, I’ve gone almost six months without doing anything. I’ve run here and there and on occasion my husband has managed to get me out to the garage to lift a few weights, but mostly I’ve become a sedentary bump on a log.

Bad Mommy!

So last night I pulled out a Yoga DVD that we purchased ages ago and popped it into the DVD player. It’s an 80 minute Power Yoga workout led by Rodney Yee. Yeah, I don’t know who he is either. All I know is his royal blue biker shorts are a little too bright and a little too spandexy. It’s…awkward.

About ten minutes into the Yoga video I felt myself starting to unwind a little. I was finally working out and I had missed it. “Stand tall and feel the muscles loosen in your back,” said the soothing voice on the DVD. Rodney doesn’t talk. He just stands there in his painted on shorts on a cliff over some ocean.

I can only assume that yoga is more fun and easier on a cliff over the ocean. That’s assuming, of course, that you are able to resist the urge to shove your instructor over the side of the cliff…

About ten minutes after we loosened our backs, I began to sweat as soothing voice over dude and Rodney led me through the Warrior 2 pose for the umpteenth time. “Now slowly lower to the push up position,” The Voice told me and I did even though my arms were shaking rather violently.

Down dog.

Up dog.

Be the Cobra.

Throw up.

Six months away from working out was long enough for me to forget how blasted hard power yoga is. About thirty minutes into the workout, I lost all feeling in my shoulders, which was actually a welcome relief to the searing burn of my muscles lighting on fire. I accepted the numbness as a sign that I was either dying a slow death or my body was simply releasing a defense mechanism against stupidity.

Forty minutes into the workout The Voice instructed me to stand on one leg, the other leg straight ou behind me. “Now very slowly, reach your arms out over your head. Have one strong, straight line lead from the palm of your hand to the heel of your outstretched foot. Feel the power surge through your body.”

If power feels like pain, I felt it. I was strong.

Shortly after this, The Voice instructed Rodney and I to lay down on our backs and tuck our feet up as close to our backside as possible. “Now place your hands on the floor by your ears and slowly push up into an upward bow.”

And  upward bow? What is an upward bow?

It’s a back bend!

I pushed myself up into a position that I haven’t tried since early high school when I was competing in gymnastics and my body was under the impression that such torture was normal. Last night, however, my body laughed at me. Out loud laughed, then trembled, shook and I plopped back to the floor. I watched Rodney on the screen, folded backwards in bright royal blue spandex shorts.

I may need counseling after this experience.

We did three “upward bows.” Well, Rodney did three. I did one and a half. At this point we were 45 minutes into the workout and I was now numb from my shoulders to my knees. I attempted to continue on, but when Rodney laid on his stomach and The Torturer The Voice told us to grab our ankles behind us and raise up to form a human boat, I threw the remote at the TV and curled up in the fetal position.

This morning I woke up and found the sensation had returned to all of my limbs. Unfortunately that sensation is pain as my muscles try to figure out what happened to their extended sabbatical.

Stupid Yoga.

If you need me today I’ll be sitting quietly on the couch trying to harness my Inner Chi. Whatever that means…

Image Credit

Filed Under: Exercise, Random Tagged With: , , ,
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