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Deep thoughts…

January 13, 2011 by Kelli

*random pictures will be interspersed throughout this most random of posts. Consider yourselves forewarned…

When I was a kid, I thought for sure the term “Jay Walker” meant someone who walked across the street naked. I think that stream of thought stemmed from the phrase “Nekkid as a Jay Bird,” which, being from a good southern family, I heard frequently. But I remember vividly being told once that I was jay walking and getting quite upset because I was fully dressed.

Sadly, I think I was 11 or 12 before I learned what jay walking really meant.

As we walked into church last night, Sloan walked outside the pedestrian walkway. “Hey everybody – look at me!” he called. “I’m a Jay Walker!”

I blushed. Because for some reason when I hear that term I can’t get the image of a defiant streaker crossing the street out of my head.

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Sadly, I am already over the great winter of 2011. Highs of 20 with wind chills in the single digits? Over it. Snow and ice? Over it. Frostbite after walking from my car to the back door? Over it.

Lee told me yesterday that he was convicted about his attitude toward winter. Well that makes one of us. I suppose I should try to have a better attitude about these frigid months. I mean, it’s not like I can do anything about it. It is what it is and I might as well find the silver lining so here it is:

The Clementines are amazing right now. They are fresh and sweet and…

Ah, forget it. Sorry, but I can’t find a single redeeming quality to winter. Bah Humbug.

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Today I will go to a music practice to prepare for an upcoming event that I’m singing at and I’m more than a little bit excited about it. Every year our church puts on a Girl’s Formal for the senior high girls. They provide beautiful dresses for the girls and have people come in to do their hair and make up. After everyone is sufficiently pampered and Princess-ified, the senior high boys escort the girls into the activity center where they are served a meal by candlelight. For the evening the girls are treated like royalty and are reminded that they are special and beautiful and cherished and loved. It’s such a sweet event and its something I wish I could have attended back when I was an angsty teenager…

This year’s dinner theme is set in World War II so they asked for a live band to play some of the classic standards from greats like Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Frank Sinatra and so on…We will be singing songs like Ain’t Misbehaivin’, Blue Skies, Paper Moon and the ever amazing Georgia on my Mind.

Now I can’t skat like Queen Ella – I don’t even think I’ll try so as not to embarrass myself. I’m supposed to be background music, not the elephant in the room. But other than that, putting these songs together has been a dream come true and the fact that I get to sing them at such a unique event is even more fun.

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I need a tan. I need the sun to kiss my cheeks and mask the bags under my eyes.

That is all.

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We’re about a quarter of the way through our massive jar of heaven Nutella. We are finding many wonderful uses for Nutella, but none of them compete with the classic snack: Nutella on plain, white bread. I ate a slice at 10:00 last night. I can’t say I feel great about that decision but whatever…I took up running, again, so it’s all good.

Right?

Okay, there’s really no justification for eating a chocolate covered piece of bread right before bed.

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I’m off to face another frigid day. I believe the high is supposed to be 24 today, which is better than yesterday’s high of 19. See? Look at me being all positive and finding the silver lining.

So much for global warming, eh?

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: cold winter, giant jar of Nutella, Jay Walking, Kids, random blog post

The Star, A Book and A Monkey…not necessarily in that order

December 21, 2010 by Kelli

Monkey has been a part of our family for two years now. He was adopted on Landon’s first brithday and it was love at first sight…or bite – whatever.

Since that time, Monkey (sometimes referred to as Steve) has been a mere extension of Landon’s skinny little arm. Two peas in a pod, they are. Napping together, playing together, living together. Yes. They are the best of friends. Bosom buddies!

Recently, Monkey (Steve) had a bit of a medical crisis. His leg began separating itself from his body. It was touch and go there for awhile. We didn’t know if he would make it. The unfortunate snag stretched from mid-knee to the under arm. We prayed, we said our goodbyes, we prepared Landon for the worst. But he refused to give up hope. He believed in Monkey and so the rest of us did as well.

But just to be safe, we adopted a knew Monkey. Larry. Just kidding. The new Monkey doesn’t have a name. The new Monkey looks exactly the same. Except, of course, for the fact that he doesn’t smell like spit and pee. And his leg is fully attached. And his color is even throughout.

Landon took one look and with utter disdain tossed new Monkey aside. Like a red headed step child. Unwanted, unloved, unreturnable because I lost the receipt…

We decided to give Monkey (Steve) one last chance at life. Thanks to the skillful hands of his surgeon (Grandma Bebe) Monkey pulled through. In fact, he’s as good as new. You know, besides the fact that he smells like spit and pee, his leg fluff is distorted and thin and his coloring is extremely faded. It doesn’t matter to Landon, though. He loves Monkey (Steve) unconditionally.

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Switching gears – abruptly.

Sloan is in public school. This is not a decision we took lightly and we spent a lot of time discussing this choice. And we are, for the most part, very happy with the choice we made. It’s right for our family right now.

However…

It does require quite a bit of vigilance. I knew this going in so I try not to let myself get overly exasperated when I feel…well, exasperated with the public school. Since Sloan began reading, and reading quite well, I’ve found myself more and more annoyed at the books he brings home from the library. In fact, I can’t think of a single one I’ve been happy with in several months.

It started with the book about Werewolves he checked out around Halloween. Nice.

Let’s begin by discussing The Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I get it, these books are popular and in general, I don’t think they’re bad. BUT. My kid is seven. Does he really need to be reading about the nuances of middle school? And the material in and of itself is just so silly and trivial. Why are we dumbing down books for our youngest readers? I don’t get it. What happened to writing books that were filled with adventure and imagination instead of potty words and stick figures?

Lee and I did read through the Wimpy Kid books and ultimately decided Sloan could check them out, but we are talking through them with him, discussing issues such as the boys trying to hide things from their parents and how that’s not something that we agree with. It’s lead to teachable moments, but I still find it annoying to have to deal with such nonsense.

THEN *deep breaths* he brought home this gem. A book he will promptly be returning to the library with firm instructions not to ever bring home again. We made it clear that he wasn’t in trouble and that it wasn’t his fault, but that some books just aren’t worth the time. And a book about a giant piece of p00p that punches people?! Definately not worth the time.

There’s no easy way to put this: THIS BOOK IS STUPID. It’s stupid and I don’t even understand why a school library would stock it on their shelves. Most of the words aren’t even spelled right (Laffs for Laughs, Akshuns for Actions). Seriously?! Am I the only person who finds this somewhat appalling that an early reader would be allowed to take home such nonsense?

Then there’s the small little “subliminal message” they hid on Page 76: “Think for yourself. Question Authority. Read banned books! Kids have the same constitutional rights as grown-ups!!!”

Oh sure it’s all tongue in cheek, but here’s the thing…IT’S NOT FUNNY NOR IS IT CUTE.

Let’s just say I’m talking myself off a cliff right now.

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Switching gears – let’s get happy again.

I had two separate conversations last week that brought a smile to my face and laughter to my heart. The first went like this:

“I need to reschedule our meeting for tomorrow. My daughter’s preschool is doing a live Nativity play and she is the star.”

“Oh really? Your daughter is going to be baby Jesus?”

The second conversation went like this:

“Tia was the Star in her Nativity play last week.”

“Oh really? Tia was Mary?”

Nope.

She was The Star. Literally.

She was The Star and yes. She was the star!

Peace Out.

Filed Under: Kids, Landon, Motherhood, Sloan, Tia Tagged With: books, Kids, kids reading appropriate books, public school rant, The Diary of a Wimpy Kid

He gets it all

December 6, 2010 by Kelli

He came to me yesterday as I prepared myself for dress rehearsal. The musical is set in 1947 so I had on dark eyeliner, a skirt, lips so red they glow in the dark and hair so curly that I vaguely resembled Simba.

He looked up at me with big eyes, then a slow smile spread across his face.

“You bootiful, Mom,” he said.

“Thank you, buddy,” I replied. My heart sort of melted at that point.

Then he grabbed my hand and gave it a tug. “Come down here,” he said, pulling me to my knees. “I wanna give you a hug ‘tause you bootiful.”

We hugged.

Then I promised everything he ever wanted and more. Money. Cars. His brother and sister’s inheritance.

He gets it all…

Photo courtesy of Lulu Photography

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: Kids, Landon, Lulu Photography, Motherhood, Photography

The Brawl

December 1, 2010 by Kelli

BASED UPON A TRUE STORY

The Scene

Three kids, all blonde, varying heights, clearly in posession of shared DNA. They are heading downstairs to play a game together with the largest of the three rallying his troops to action.

The Setting

A Basement. Vibrant colors, pathetically filthy, scattered with disregarded toys and costumes.

The Protagonist

The largest of the three blondes. Male. A smattering of freckles and deep blue eyes. Sweet natured but easily frustrated. Possesses a strong desire to be in control and a swift and thorough sense of justice. A natural leader who inspires others to action when he’s not using his leadership for personal gain.

The Antagonist

The middle blonde. Female. Dangerously cute. Freakishly strong. Possesses the rare trait of being able to push others to the very brink of their sanity then backing off as they self destruct. Can widen her eyes abnormally giving her the appearance of a lost puppy and making her nearly irresistible. Cannot say her ‘R,’ ‘TH,’ or ‘L’ sounds. A master of psychological warfare.

The Tagalong

The smallest of the three blondes. Male. Bright blue eyes. A mischevious grin. A natural born sidekick with the ability to alternate partners seamlessly throughout the course of an altercation, sometimes more than once. Has a seemingly unbreakable love for the word “stupid” and the phrase “I hit your butt,” despite repeated admonishments. Also unable to say the letters ‘R,’ ‘TH,’ or ‘L’ as he spends much time listening to, and mimicing, blonde number two. A free spirit, The Tagalong is prone to fits of bouncing and can rarely focus on any one activity for more than 60 seconds at a time.

The Conflict

The Protagonist orders all blondes into the filthy basement for covert operations and a mad game of tag. Naturally, The Protagonist begins laying out rules and restrictions upon the game that directly violate The Antagonist’s awareness of what is fair. In addition, The Antagonist has spent much of the afternoon being nice to The Protagonist and is simply in the mood to ruffle his feathers.

The Tagalong is just glad he was invited.

The Antagonist agrees to play the game as laid out by The Protagonist. She waits until the opportune moment and then, mid-stride, stops, turns and declares, “I don’t wanna pway anymore.” She throws a look at The Tagalong that lets him know he should take her side for a good time. He quickly chimes in, “Yeah, I not pway anymore too.”

They wait. But not long. The Protagonist falls into a fit of frustrated rage. He stomps. He begs. He pleads. “Please play with me, guys.” But they hold their ground. It’s just too much fun to stop. To really set The Protagonist over the edge, The Antagonist throws in, “We don’t wike to pway your games.”

The Protagonist responds, “Fine! Then I don’t like either of you. You’re not my friends!” This is declared at the top of his lungs at a decible that reverberates off every window in the house. The younger two blondes stomp upstairs indignantly.

“He’s mean,” they declare as they move to the couch, The Tagalong’s arms crossed over his chest in a mini protest. Minutes later The Protagonist runs up the stairs.

In two leaps he lands on The Antagonist, digging his nails into her arm. She lets loose a dramatic scream and brings forth a few tears for added effect. Then the smaller, freakishly strong Antagonist flies at the larger blonde, her hand finding contact with his face with a crack. Her finger somehow burys itself in his eye.

The Judge steps in, seperating the two brawlers. The Tagalong looks on with wide eyes as The Protagonist is taken to another room.

“Yeah!” The Tagalong says to The Antagonist. “You dot him, Tia. You beat ‘im up. Ha. Ha.” They give each other five. The Judge’s wife stifles giggles.

The Resolution

The three blondes are sitting at the dinner table. Little has been said about the earlier altercation until The Protagonist pipes up. “Why did you poke my eye?” he asks, pure offense dripping from every word.

“Because you hit me and you was bossing me,” The Antagonist answers.

“Yeah,” The Tagalong interjects.

“Don’t start again, guys,” The Judge says and shoots his dagger eyes in their direction.

“Hey! I have an idea!” The Protagonist says, throwing his hands up in the air.

“What?!” The Tagalong asks, clearly excited.

“Let’s all be best friends.”

“Yeah!” The Antagonist and The Tagalong reply in unison.

“Let’s all say it together,” The Protagonist says, relishing the fact that, once again, he is in full control. “Ready? One, Two Three…”

“WE’RE ALL BEST FRIENDS.”

And they all lived happily ever after.

Or at least for the next few hours…

The End.

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: fighting, Kids, Sibling rivalry

How to go from reverent to irreverent without even really trying…

November 18, 2010 by Kelli

If ever you ask my seven year old to pray before a meal, I suggest you make sure you’re not starving. Because Sloan? He brings it when he prays. All I need is a tent and a white hanky and Glory, Hallelujah we’ve got a revival.

Landon and Tia, try as they might, have a very difficult time making it through one of Sloan’s prayers without sneaking a bite or four. Sloan has been known to pray up to five minutes or more. He thanks God for everything from his toys to the military. He prays for poor people and for everyone he can think of by name. He prays for his own attitude and, on any given day, could likely be heard praying that his sister’s attitude would change too.

Last night’s dinnertime prayer went something like this:

Dear Lord. You are the Creator. You created. Everything. God. You are our Lord. Thanks for being our Lord. And for being our Savior. Thank you for, um, the veterens (which he pronounces vechrins). Thank you that they protect us and keep us safe. Thank you for Mr. Nevil that he fought to protect our country. We are very glad for them. Thank you for the Army vechrins and the Navy and…um…the Air Force. And all of the people that serve. It’s just awesome that they do that for us. Give them glory, Lord.

We thank you for Jonri (our Compassion child), God. He is poor. But he’s not poor anymore because we can help him to not be poor. And thank you that he will get Christmas presents. We pray for all the poor people, God. We pray that they will have food. And toys.

Lord you are very great. God. Thank you for our family (lists everyone from grandparents to aunts and uncles and cousins). Thank you for all my friends (lists as many as he can think of by name). And, God. I pray that I would have a good attitude. Thank you that I had a good day today and was nice and happy. And thank you that Tia was nice to me today and we could have a little fun.

*It’s at this point that Lee and I are trying not to crack up as Landon, with his head down and his eyes squinted open begins grabbing food and putting it in his mouth, then clasping his hands together again while he prays and chews. My grandmother would have told him he was going to choke for sneaking food during prayer.

We just thank you for everything you give us, Lord. And it is in your Holy, Powerful Name we pray…In Jesus Name.

Amen

It’s not hard to understand why Jesus commanded us to let the little children come to him. There is no holding back in the sincere prayers of a child. I am always blessed by Sloan’s prayers, no matter how lengthy they may be.

As soon as Sloan finished his prayer, we all echoed the Amen and picked up our forks to eat. But wait! Tia wanted to pray. So we bowed again. Her prayers are generally short, sweet and to the point.

Dear Wowrd. Fank you dat we have a gweat famiwy. And fank you dat you dive us dis food. And…well…amen.

Amen!

Ah the reverence. I was momentarily tempted to pat myself on the back for raising such wonderful, thoughtful children.

Then I was humbled.

After the beautiful prayers, the meal took a slight downhill turn. We picked up our forks again and Lee thanked the kids for being willing to pray. Half of Landon’s plate was, of course, clean. Everything was gone except his meat…naturally. I made beef stew. It was delicious but I will admit…it didn’t look appealing. Tia put it a…different way.

She looked down at the pile of meat on her plate and wrinkled her nose.

“Is dis poop?!”

And thus, the reverence of the moment was totally gone. Sloan cracked up and Landon looked with great disdain at his plate. It took several minutes to convince him that I did not, indeed, prepare poop for dinner.

We started off grand, though, didn’t we?

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood, Sloan, Tia Tagged With: Children praying, compassion international, kids say the darndest things, Teaching kids to love God

Tigger

November 17, 2010 by Kelli

My happy go lucky third born rarely walks.

He doesn’t often run, either.

He jumps. Everywhere he goes…he jumps.

This makes it really hard to catch a decent picture of him.

Unless, of course, his gymnastics instructor manages to get him to sit still for 2.3 minutes. She might even convince him to kiss his knee. If he’s sitting still long enough to listen, that is.

Mostly, though. This kid is a hopper. A bouncer. He bounces all day long. Bounces and smiles.

I like to call him Tigger.

Sometimes it exhausts me, all that bouncing. But then he grins and waves. And seriously…

How can you not love that face?

So yummy.

Filed Under: Kids, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: active children, keeping up with a toddler, Landon, Tigger

The Journey

November 15, 2010 by Kelli

No, I’m not going to bust out in a radical version of Don’t Stop Believin’. Although if I still had make up on, it wasn’t 11:10 at night and my FlipCam was close by, I might have considered it.

Nope…I’m talking about a different kind of journey. On Friday I shared with you the struggles and insecurities I’m feeling as my career climbs ever so slightly and the inner battles that wage within. I received great, wonderful, supportive comments from many of you. I also received a couple of phone calls and a few emails filled with encouragement.

All of this encouragement began squeezing at my heart, which then overflowed in prayer. How am I to feel about all of this? How do I respond to the obvious passions and desires of my heart when opportunity presents itself? And how do I balance those with the obligations and love I have for my family?

A conversation I had on Sunday solidified in my heart my need for serious reflection on this matter. I found myself encouraging a new friend to pursue her own passions. I heard myself tell her that God doesn’t want us to live in fear. He has given this girl obvious talents and passions and she yearns to pursue them, but there is that nagging little thing called practicality. It is telling her that pursuing her passions, even to the glory of God, means giving up a tiny bit of security and safety. Not that I think I know what’s best for her life, by any means, but I do know that when I see someone who longs and desires to pursue a passion I’m going to do everything in my power to encourage her to do it without shame and or fear.

I need to have a talk with the girl who stares back at me from the mirror…

Practicality is a good thing. Practicality keeps food on the table and money in the bank. Practicality makes sure that should your two year old topple off his stool in the middle of dinner, you can walk into an ER and get his broken arm plastered up without fear of losing your home to medical bills.

Not that we know anything about that, of course…

As we drove home from church Sunday afternoon, I relayed the discussion to Lee and I could almost hear his brain explode inside his skull. Because he’s been telling me this for years.

I am trapped in practicality. But the problem with my practicality is that it isn’t the good kind. It’s not the kind that is really truly doing my family any good. It’s really just my excuse to not try too hard. If I don’t try too hard to succeed, I sure as heck don’t have to worry about failing.

Nice, huh?

Except it’s not.

The thing that baffles me about all this is the fact that I didn’t use to be this way. This fear based practicality was birthed the second I became a mother. Suddenly I found myself afraid to dream anymore for fear I might shove them all toward costly psychiatrist bills when they’re older. Because we all know that it’s always the mom’s fault, right?

Here’s the thing: this is not the place we were designed to live. This is not where I was designed to live. None of us were meant to hide behind practicality – to use it as a shield to hide us from the world. Sometimes practicality is entirely impractical. It’s not always wise to be practical. God didn’t design us to live in fear, insecurity and guilt. He designed us to walk freely, unashamed and with passion. And passion is rarely ever practical. Think of the greatest leaders and innovators in history – very few of them operated in passive practicality. Most of them threw caution to the wind and surrendered to their dreams.

Think of Christopher Columbus. Sailing around the world was not practical, especially when the prevailing thought was that the world was flat. But he tossed practicality over the side of his ship and sailed forth, driven by passion and a good deal of gumption. Or what about a group of five men who, in 1956, risked everything to minister to a group of people known as the Woadani deep in the Amazon only to end up being brutally murdered by the people they so desperately wanted to help? Was it practical to transplant their families to that region? It could even be argued that that was unwise…unless you know the end of the story when Jim Elliot’s son returned and forever altered the future of the people who slayed his father.

Of course, wisdom must play a role. But wisdom and practicality are different aren’t they? Practicality is a dross around the neck of passion. Wisdom is the wings which give passion flight. Wisdom allows us to pursue passions with the knowledge that even if we don’t succeed (as the world sees success), we certainly can’t call ourselves failures. Because how can we fail? Hasn’t the battle already been won on our behalf?

Sometimes, of course, wisdom and practicality must go hand in hand. It would be both unwise and impractical for me to pursue a career as a professional surfer. There are a number of reasons for this, one of the more prevalent ones being I live in Missouri…not a lot of ocean to be found. I also have to be sure that the things I pursue are supported by Lee. It is not wise or practical to chase a dream without my husband’s full support. I will never succeed that way.

If, however, I do have the full support of my husband and I step out in faith, wisely seeking direction along the way, then haven’t I already experienced success, even if I don’t accomplish that which I set out to accomplish? What about the journey I took? What about the things I learned on the path? If the journey leads to deeper faith, new experiences and greater wisdom, then tell me where exactly the failure lies?

The truth that has taken root inside my heart these last few days is so simple, yet also a bit complex: If I am willing to embrace my dreams, without guilt or fear, perhaps that alone is the success I am to find. And what a journey that would be…

Don’t stop. Believin’. Hold on to that feeeeeeelin’.

Huh…look at that – the song fits after all.

Righteous.

Filed Under: Family, Lee, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: chasing dreams, faith, living with passion, Practicality vs. Wisdom, The Journey

Knocked Up

November 15, 2010 by Kelli

I shared this story the other night with a friend and I decided it was too funny not to blog. So here you go…just another random blog about my life.

You. Are. Welcome.

I was 24 years old and pregnant with Sloan. It should be stated that Sloan was a mammoth of a child. He was 9.3 when he was born in July of 2003 so by June of that year I looked like I was going to explode. I carried him one hundred percent out front and quite low so yes, I waddled and I got asked more than once if I was expecting twins.

FYI – Pregnant women don’t like to be asked if they’re having twins because the chances are greater that they’re not carrying twins. If you are unsure, it’s best to simply not ask.

It was early on a June day and Lee needed to take my car into the shop due to a rather unpleasant sound it was making that was certain to cost us a large portion of our unborn child’s college fund so instead of being stuck at home for the day, I decided to run the few errans I had in The Pup.

The Pup was a little Isuzu truck we bought while we were rehabbing our house so that we could haul lumber and other large items to and from our temporary home – Lowes. I believe we paid $500 for The Pup. She was rusted inside and out and she shook rather furiously when you started her up. She sputtered when she moved and she was drafty due to a rather significant hole in the floor board. But she served her purpose well and we tried not to drive her long distances for fear that she might literally fall apart in the road and we’d be left manually pushing a Flinstones car up the driveway.

So on this fine morning, I loaded up The Pup and prepared to spend the morning out.

Did I mention I was great with child? Great with child. And for some reason, on this particular day, I decided to wear my hair in two long braids. I was 24 so I could still pull off braids without looking totally and completely ridiculous.

Actually, I’m guessing that’s not true. I probably looked ridiculous.

I also wore no make up and because my fingers were rather swollen I had on no ring. But the creme de la creme of my little ensemble came in the form of my maternity shirt. Because my protuding abdomen was so prominent, food and liquids attached themselves to it with great frequency. As in, every time I ate I spilled something on my stomach. So by the end of my pregnancy, I didn’t own a single unstained shirt. And the shirt I chose on that particular day was white and had a long stain right. down. the middle.

I am nothing if not classy.

So out I walked. In braids, with a stained shirt, to The Pup. I had give myself a bit of a running start in order to get my gut up off the ground and into the slightly elevated seat. It was quite the ordeal, in fact to get in and get the seat adjusted so that I could reach the steering wheel without it cutting off the circulation to the lower half of my body.

In short…I looked ridiculous.

I made my first stop at Borders Bookstore. I waddled in and got my book and smiled slightly at the people who started at me with eyebrows raised. I waddled back out, took my hop, step and leap into The Pup’s front seat and shimmied around until I was just right and continued on to the gas station.

Here I ran into an older man and woman filling up their boat on wheels. The woman didn’t even try to hide her horrified stares. It was at this moment that I began to feel a bit like a Zoo animal. I also began to wonder what it was that people were staring at.

After I got gas, I headed to Mecca Target. It was here that the stares intensified and I finally got the question.

“Honey, when are you due?”

“In three weeks.”

“Ah,” the woman nodded knowingly. “And you feel okay to be out walking around?”

“Um…yes?”

She looked down at me with a bit of pity in her eyes, causing even more confusion on my part. “Well, good luck to you,” she said, patting me on the shoulder as she turned to walk away. This woman truly seemed sorry for me.

I decided to make my purchase and get out of the Twilight Zone as quickly as possible at that point. When I made my pitiful leap into The Pup, I looked up in the rear view mirror to make sure I didn’t have FREAK written across my forehead and when I looked I laughed out loud.

Braids and no make up with bangs hanging neatly across my forehead…

I looked seventeen years old.

No wonder people stared. I looked like a poor little knocked up teenager who’s boyfriend had left her with nothing but a stained shirt and beat up old truck. This explained the old woman’s horror at the gas station.

I also explains why I have never worn braids again.

The End.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: knocked up, Motherhood, pregnancy

The curse of the stay at home, work at home, loves her home mom

November 12, 2010 by Kelli

In recent months work has taken off for me quite a bit. I’m at the tail end of editing a third book this year with a fourth lined up to start next week. All four of these books fell in my lap and I have had more fun than I’d like to publicly admit fixing them up. In addition to the books, I’ve started writing for a couple of other websites, am speaking next week at a social media event and am ramping up plans to send STL Family Life to the next level.

So many blessings. I can’t tell you how much it thrills me to have these opportunities, but…

I’ve struggled lately. Am I doing the right thing? Is this what I should be doing? Am I being all that I need to be for my kids, my husband and my community? What if this path is the wrong path? Am I being selfish?

I’ve been wading through some insecurity lately. When I began this blog almost three years ago I had no clue what blogging was all about. I wanted to keep a record of life with three kids amidst the insanity of a new baby. And now, while I still want to keep a record for my kids, I must admit I’m also doing this for me. I’m doing it because I love to create. I love that this blogging/social media business has helped me burst out of my bubble a bit and meet people I never would have met before.

Some of you may have a hard time believeing this, but by nature I’m a bit of an introvert. Meeting new people scares the crap out of me. Meeting people who are successful and funny and accomplished makes me feel like curling up in bed with a copy of Jane Eyre, a bottle of wine and a year’s supply of PEOPLE magazine.

Sad, I know.

But in the last year I’ve found a new sense of confidence bubble beneathe the interior of my insecurity. Part of it stems from my husband who never ceases to make me feel like I can conquer the world…and who tells me I’m hot on a daily basis. Seriously can’t get enough of that…

Some comes from the fact that my family all support my online writing with a great deal of glee. I can always count on my parents to make me feel like I hung the moon.

But a large part of this confidence has come from dear friends and absolute strangers. People here in town who have embraced me and encouraged me, taught me and challenged me. People who are beautiful and successful and…nice. Women who are great moms and great writers. Women who stay at home, women who work at home, women who work outsdie the home, women of all stages of life…Women who tell me it’s okay to pursue my dreams.

So a new confidence is brewing inside. But there is still guilt and insecurity. You see, while I now feel confident in my ability to accomplish my goals and dreams, I question my motivation to do so. I like that I can earn a little income and help support our family to a degree (or at least help take my husband on a rockin’ European vaction, anyway), and I like the creative outlet writing and editing give me which make me a better mom altogether.

But is it right?

I read this post today by Megan at Velveteen Mind and it struck a chord in my soul. My career is filled with lofty ideals and noble goals. My family is my mission. I can fail in my freelance career – I cannot fail as a mother.

The thing that’s most frustrating about my current insecurities is that most of them have no base. I’m not being unwise in my career. I’m not sacrificing my family. I’m not taking on more than I can handle (not now anyway) but I am struggling against this feeling of uncontentment. I’m not content with my career because I want to take it to the next level, but I don’t want to take it to the next level because I fear I’ll sacrifice my family. I’ve had enough work lately that I’ve tossed around the idea of hiring a babysitter for a couple of hours a week so I can get things done. Oh the guilt I’ve felt for even thinking that! Insane amounts…And here’s why – I love what I do! Writing and editing are not work for me. So hiring a sitter once a week so I can hole up in Starbucks and have fun feels like an indulgence. I’m still not sure if I’ll do it or not…

And so I flounder a bit.

I don’t share this to have the problem solved. I think all moms deal with this to a degree. We all have to balance who we are inside the home with who we are outside the home. We all have passions and goals outside of motherhood and yet we all long to do nothing more than be great moms. I share this just to share. To get it out of my head and off my chest. To verbally confess – I’m struggling with life balance. No one in my family is suffering, everyone’s healthy (emotionally that is – Tia has a nasty cold) and we are enjoying one another daily. But I still battle within.

I don’t think I’m alone in this…

Filed Under: Life, Motherhood Tagged With: mom guilt, Motherhood, my husband thinks I'm hot, the struggles of motherhood, Velveteen Mind, Work at home moms

I need your advice

November 9, 2010 by Kelli

Post edit: This post is not meant to condemn anyone who has given their child a Nintendo DS or DSi. I do not oppose gaming devices in general, however, at this point in time they are not right for our family. My intent in posting this is not to make anyone feel bad but to get feedback on what the heck to buy my children for Christmas!!!

Carry on…

Hey guys. So Christmas is around the corner. I’m not sure if you were aware of that fact. I mean, you know, if you’ve been hiding under a rock you might not have realized, but for the rest of us who are already being bombarded with decorations and music it’s pretty dang hard to ignore.

Christmas is coming and somewhere someone’s goose is getting fat. Poor Thanksgiving…it is the forgotten holiday.

So here’s my yuletide dilemma. My seven year old is at the age where gift buying is becoming a bit difficult. He still likes toys (praise God), but he’s not as easy to please as he once was. I believe we have one more year before buying gifts to satisfy his maturing tastes will become harder…and more expensive.

This year, he has his sweet little heart set on a Nintendo Dsi. He talks about it incessantly. He wants to check them out every time we enter The Holy Land Target and he tells everyone he sees that he’s getting one for Christmas. Here’s the thing, though.

He’s not.

Lee and I have decided that right now we are not ready to introduce hand held gaming devices into our children’s lives. There are a couple of reasons for this:

1.) I just don’t think it’s necessary at seven to have a Nintendo Dsi. I’m not opposed to them, but I find it to be an awfully expensive gift for such a young child.

2.) I think there are better things to do with one’s time than play video games. We have a Wii and it gets played some, but repeated and extended periods of play are off limits.

3.) I am not ready for the battles that will inevitably come with a NDsi (don’t want to type it all out again). Sloan is actually very responsible when it comes to TV and video games. He does not have much of an addictive personality and he is not one to sit for hours with his eyes glued to the tube. He gets bored and loses interest quickly and can go months without playing the Wii at all. Landon, however, is already showing addictive tendencies in that he wants to watch TV or play the Wii all the flippin’ time. It’s already a daily battle with him resulting in many tears shed. A NDsi would inevitably become a battle zone between Sloan and his siblings and, quite honestly, I can’t handle one more battle.

Are we being unfair? I don’t feel like it, but it really does break my heart not to give Sloan what he wants because he’s such a good kid. I tried to break it to him gently the other day that this year would likely not be the year he received an NDsi. His reponse?

“That’s okay. I’ll ask Santa to bring it to me!”

Crap! Am I going to crush his dreams and destroy Santa all in one year? Hey…welcome to the Stuart home where we take your dreams and roll them inthumb tacks then light them on fire.

Thanks for stopping by!

When I told Lee of Sloan’s reponse he came up with the brilliant solution of telling Sloan that Santa doesn’t bring such expensive gifts – he lets the parents buy those presents. I have tasked Lee with preparing Sloan to not find a NDsi under the tree this Christmas while still preserving the magic of Santa for one more year. I’m counting on my man to come through on this one!

My question is, though, what should we get the poor boy for Christmas? Yes, he will receive clothes, a few books and probably some new art supplies. But what do we get him for that one special toy that’s going to light up his face when he walks around the corner Christmas morning?!

I need your advice! What are you getting your kids for Christmas? I have a few ideas, but nothing seems to take the place of his beloved NDsi, which he will likely receive at some point, but just not now.

I do hereby open the comments up for suggestions. This is my sad attempt to see if I can break the ten comment barrier I seem to have on my posts. Come on, folks, don’t let me down. I am officially begging for your comments! My motherly angst has reduced me to this…a comment whore mooch.

…

Okay, I can’t let the last word of a post be whore mooch so I’m going to share a picture that has nothing to do with this post but I just want to share it. It’s Tia, in her Little Miss Matched tights, which I told you about here and her glasses which make her look way too old.

Merry Christmas.

No! Happy Thanksgiving.