Say It Enough, You'll Start to Believe It
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My brother and I at a costume party circa 1995
Come back tomorrow for a little chat about parenting – USA vs. FRANCE.
OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH….
And next week is the final week I can claim to be in my early thirties. I have some plans on how to write my way into my mid-thirties. It’s better than drinking my way there, right?
I knew my boy would be athletic when he was around eight months old. We were at one of his older brother’s soccer games and I sat his plump little behind in the grass. He couldn’t move yet, so he simply screamed and reached his arms out toward an extra soccer ball lying a little ways down the field. I quickly grabbed it and rolled it toward him and for the entire 40 minute game he giggled and cackled and grinned as he batted the ball back and forth.
He’s five now and he is no longer a fat little baby. In fact, I sometimes wonder how it is his twiggy bird legs manage to hold him up all day long. But one thing has not changed – the boy loves sports.
While most kids his age are into Disney Jr. and CARS, my boy lives, eats and breathes baseball, basketball and…really, anything with a ball. The only station he knows how to find on TV is ESPN and there are some mornings when I walk out and find him engrossed in the highlight reel.
I am then forced to drink my coffee while listening to the run down on which teams are doing well and which teams are “being crushed.”
Hot tea has never looked more relaxing. *wink*
Happy Wednesday!
Well hey there, friends ! How is everyone on this fine and lovely Monday morning? Me? I’m cold. Yes, I am. Apparently Mother Nature has gotten her geography mixed up and has dumped a bit of Midwest weather on my beloved Florida and I’m officially not a fan.
Of course, it’s supposed to be 88* on Thursday, so I can’t complain too much, but still… My feet are cold right now and in general cold weather clothing isn’t my favorite. I want to wear dresses and sandals so C’Mon Florida! Get it together!!
(Two exclamation points mean I’m super serious.)
I had a total OMG I’m a parent moment this weekend as we huddled under blankets on the bleachers at both boy’s baseball games. I remember my parents sitting on the sidelines of the soccer field when I was a kid, sipping coffee and hot chocolate and cheering me on through numb, frozen lips.
Except we lived in Wisconsin when I was a kid, so my parents definitely suffered more for the cause of parenthood. Northern parents get an extra jewel in their crown for frigid mornings on the sidelines.
Nevertheless, as I sipped my hot chocolate and cheered my boys on to baseball victory, I had to laugh. I’m a friggin’ parent! This is what parents do. Come rain or shine, hot or cold, we’re on the sidelines banging our hands together because the smile that comes across his lips when he hears you call his name is totally worth a little frostbite.
Plus hot chocolate tastes better at the ball park. Silver linings…you can always find them.
TRANSITION
I updated our adoption page this weekend. If you don’t mind, take a moment to hop on over there and check it out. God is good, friends. I’m still struggling with this place we’re in. I am on the verge of tears at any moment of the day so if you happen to call at one of the bad moments, I am so sorry!
But I know and believe my God is good. I believe that He loves the orphan more than I do and I believe that He has given me a heart for orphan care for a reason. Though He feels quiet and distant right now, I believe without a shadow of a doubt He is doing a good work that I cannot see or understand and when the time is right, He will reveal it.
I believe this and I am clinging to this belief.
I still wish He would send me an email, though. Gosh, that would make this easier.
TRANSITION
I’m sitting in Barnes and Noble right now as I write this post. I love book stores – even big, impersonal commercial ones like this. The books that surround me just smell of imagination. Sometimes I look at the shelves and imagine my own book sitting up there.
I don’t know if that will happen or not, but I have hope and dreaming is always fun.
Speaking of my book, Lee and I are heading to Naples this weekend. He has a conference to attend there for work and I’m tagging along because HELLO a weekend at the Waldorf Astoria in Naples, Florida?!
Lee told me the other day that he was afraid I’d be bored while he was working during the day. When I stopped laughing hysterically I assured him I would not be bored. I will be working on my book and when I’m not writing, I will be laying out by the pool reading a little Jane Austen.
“Bored” is not written anywhere on my to do list for the weekend.
And I mentioned that it’s supposed to be 88* this weekend, right?
CLOSING PARAGRAPH
Okay, friends. I think that’s enough chit chatting for today. I’ve got a few topics rolling around in my head, but I can’t seem to get them to translate onscreen yet. Lee and I are leading a study right now on the Character and Nature of God based on C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters. Well, to be clear, Lee is leading the study. I am setting snacks on the table for everyone who comes over.
We all have a part in life…
The Screwtape Letters is rocking me pretty significantly, especially right now with all that is happening in life. I want to share some of that with you.
Soon.
For now, I’m off to tap out a few more pages on The Novel which, by the way, I have titled. I love the title. I think it’s perfect. I hope I get to keep it.
Happy Monday, folks! Anyone have good news to share today? I would love to hear it.
Forgive the oversized sweatshirt. It was cold outside (Florida cold...60 degrees...and I didn't feel like changing.)
Most of my days consist of multiple hours inside the belly of my minivan shuttling children to baseball, gymnastics, school or friend’s homes. If I’m super lucky, I might get to go to the grocery store sometimes or, as is the case today, I get to make a hefty drop at the local Goodwill thanks to one of my children who could easily occupy an entire episode of Hoarders single-handedly.
This hectic schedule leaves little time for hair care, which is one of the reasons I have so loved having my hair short. I have all but mastered the fashionable bed head and when I’m really on my game, I add the hot pink highlights to give my hair a little bit of edge.
Because I am sooooo edgy.
Alas, maintaining awesome hair is a greater challenge than most of us care to admit. I’ll be totally honest and tell you I have no idea what color my hair is anymore. If I had to guess, I’d label it dirty dishwater. It is neither blonde nor brown thanks to years of abuse and the hormones that come with birthing three children. So I pay someone to help a Mama out and give my hair some much needed TLC.
At least, that’s what I do when I have time. But if you’ll re-read paragraph one, you’ll understand that getting myself to a salon for three hours to have my hair loved on is not always easy or feasible. I haven’t had anyone sprinkle magic pixie dust (i.e. Redken Hair Dye) on my hair since before Christmas. Nor have I had it cut.
I’m in a bad place, friends. A bad, bad place.
So, what’s a busy Minivan Mom to do when life gets too busy to take care of her hair?
Buy. A. Headband.
Or four.
I’ve found that wide headbands worn high up on the head are an excellent way to mask those painful roots that give my hair the perpetual appearance of filth. I recently bought two headbands like the one I’m wearing in these pictures at Sam Moon in Dallas.
I love them.
I greet them in the morning with a chipper, “Hey there, lovlies.” And as a reward for my encouragement, they keep me from looking a hot mess.
The good news is I only have to wait one more day before having something done with the sad, pitiful mop on top of my head. Tomorrow, my hair lady will work her magic with scissors and a bit of color (Pink!). But my love of the headband will not waver.
In fact, yesterday I bought two new headbands from O Sweet Joy. I got The Collette in both sour apple and raspberry. Aren’t they the cutest little head wraps you’ve ever seen? (If you go to Kacia’s site, Coconut Robot, you can snag a discount code!)
(And after you snag the discount code, check out the giveaway Kacia is hosting today for Noonday, an AMAZING organization that works to advocate for the orphan by providing jobs so families can provide for their children, raising funds for adoption and so much more. I love what they’re doing and their jewelry is Gorgeous with a capital ‘G’!)
So, back to my original premise for the post: How does a Minivan Mom keep her hair looking awesome? By investing a little time into a good cut and color, of course. However, when time (and funds) do not permit such an investment, then the smart Minivan Mom fakes it. She invests in a few good headbands, puts on a little extra makeup and keeps things sassy until that next miraculous moment when she can sit her behind in a chair at the salon and let them work their magic.
And we all said together…
Amen.
(PS – To the men who read my blog (and I know there are several of you out there…don’t try and hide it) – I apologize for what was likely a very boring read. I hate for you to feel left out, so please feel free to share with us any tips you have for maintaing your hip Minivan Dad edge. *wink*)
I had two great posts rolling through my head today. Seriously, they were so good. They were sure to have you rolling on the floor in laughter (ROFL?)
(NO!)
You would definately laugh out loud. (LOL?)
(*groan* PLEASE NO!)
It’s just too bad I can’t remember what they were. No kidding. I had two entire posts almost completely composed in my head. All I had to do was get them from my brain to the computer, but something sucked them out into the void of nothingness before I could make that happen.
I blame the kids.
And the song Gangnum Style, which Sloan sings 24/7 right now. And the dog because she stares at me all day long with her ears pinned back and her eyes all big and cartooney, which she knows leaves me in a heap of guilt until I finally walk her.
I can literally walk from one room to the next these days and forget why I was headed there. Should I be worried?
Don’t answer that…
You know what’s awesome when you have fried mom brain? Third grade math home work. FRACTIONS! That’s what I need, folks. I need fractions to cure my inability to function in life.
NO I DO NOT NEED FRACTIONS! I DO NOT!
Sloan brought home his homework today and was all, “Mom I don’t get it and I’m going to get a bad grade so heeelllllppppp meeeeee…”
I took one look at the paper and then my head exploded. Fractions?! I didn’t cover those until sixth grade and even then, I never really learned them. We moved from Wisconsin to St. Louis toward the end of sixth grade. The school I left was just starting fractions. The school I started had already covered them.
Guess who never quite got it?
Did you know that 5/8 is a fraction greater than 1? Well its not. I thought it was, but I’ve been informed in the comments that it isn’t, which was originally what I thought but then Sloan convinced me it WAS.
I am in math purgatory…I had to text a photo of the problem to Lee (who is out of town) and my dad with an SOS because Sloan was all “OMG (NONONO!!!) I’m going to get a bad grade.” And the math paper was all “Write a mixed number AND a fraction greater than one for the part shaded.”
And I was all “Where’s the liquor?”
Just kidding. I didn’t say that out loud…
It would be super duper if they would send home the books in cases like this. If I just had an explanation of all of this written down so I could see what exactly they mean when they say “mixed number” it would help immensely. When I homeschooled last year, I slept with the teacher’s math manual. We spooned at night. It was all that got me through the year.
Well that and wine.
I’m kidding!
(sort of…)
But now? Now they just send home obscure pieces of paper with problems meant to twist and turn this mom brain all to pieces and make me want to write in large red letters across the bottom of the page:
YOU KNOW THAT STEREOTYPE OF GIRLS NOT EXCELLING IN MATH SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY ARE FEMALE?! THAT’S ME. I AM THE STEREOTYPE!
But I don’t write that. I simply write the teacher an email asking her to go over this a little more with Sloan at school and oh by the way, can you explain it to me? LOL…
(Just kidding. I didn’t write LOL. I just can’t bring myself to do it…)
And now I’m sitting here on the couch telling you a story about how I almost had an awesome post for you to read tonight. But I lost it because the truth is, I’m all out of awesome. There are only a few brain cells firing and they aren’t operating on all cylinders.
I think I need Lee to come back to town. 4COL
(For Crying Out Loud)
(I looked up texting acronymns for the purpose of writing this post.)
(You know what I learned? Text language is stupid.)
(Says the girl who can’t remember what she ate for lunch today.)
I think it’s time for bed, yo? AAK (Asleep At The Keyboard)
Okay seriously, I need to stop.
Let’s lighten things up around here a bit and discuss roaches, shall we? Let’s dicuss roaches and HOW I FIND THEM ALL THE FREAK AROUND MY BEDROOM AND BATHROOM!
That’s sounds like fun, doesn’t it?
Join me in my horror. It’s super duper over here.
Remember when we lived in St. Louis and we had a problem with Cave Crickets, or as I like to affectionately call them – Satan’s minions? Well, I’ve officially decided that if Cave Crickets are the devil’s minions, then roaches are the verman that crawl about his feet and fetch his slippers at night.
That’s right. You read that correctly.
(Incidentally, I believe he keeps yellow flies as his pets. He feeds them and pets them and gives them pithy names like Betty and George.)
(On a related note: We clearly have issues with bugs.)
(On another related note: I’m fairly certain that I am raising neurotic children when it comes to multi-legged, scurrying creatures. You should see them run and scream at the sight of an insect. It would be funny if I wasn’t leading the pack of psychotic freak outs…)
What was I saying?
Ah yes. Roaches. They have become my nemesis. And don’t try to make them sound romantic and pretty by labeling them Palmetto Bugs. I Googled roaches to see if they provide any benefit to the ecosystem and do you know what I came up with?
DO YOU KNOW?!
Actually roaches provide a huge source of food for predator insects such as scorpions, spiders, crickets (some species are very carnivorous), centipedes, praying mantises, and other carnivorous insects. In additon, some animals prey on roaches such as lizards, birds, and birds. So, they fill a gap in providing a ready food source for a variety of animals and insects. As far as a helpful role in the ecosystem (other than being prey). They do not provide any helpful benefits. Roaches are scavengers and scavenge on rotting and filthy sources of vegetation and decaying meat. Because of this, they can also be plague carriers of various diseases. Which goes to show you how helpful they are to society.
To translate the above statement – roaches serve no real purpose other than to feed the other insects that bring me horror.
Now before you roll your eyes and tell me to stop being so dramatic, I would like you to look at this picture:
So that’s a roach.
IN.
MY.
Freaking roach in my freaking bed. I’ve killed two of them there – little perverts. Shortly after seeing this picture, my friend Carol felt it necessary to inform me of one of her nursing friends who had to dig a roach out of a woman’s ear in the ER once.
“But don’t worry,” she said. “That lady was sleeping on the floor. That’s how the roach got in there.”
THIS ROACH WAS IN MY BED!!!
I now sleep in ear muffs. Lee thinks it’s hot.
(Kidding. I don’t sleep in ear muffs. I just curl up in the fetal position with my hands pressed firmly over my ears. I haven’t slept well in a month…)
Not long after that, I opened the medicine cabinet in search of…well, medicine. As soon as I pulled the door open, the roach was standing there pointing a gun at my head. He was all “Tell me about it, punk.” I slammed the door shut and ran. He was found belly up a few days later.
(While the cave crickets always took on the personality of a Japanese warrior, roaches are more like tough Italian mob bosses. No, I haven’t been drinking. This is how my mind works. Roll with it.)
Last week we saw a rather large roach high up on our bathroom wall. I think it was the Godfather of them all. He kept opening and closing his wings like he was going to parachute down on my head while I showered. We just left him there because sometimes I feel like denial is better.
If you ignore a problem, it goes away, right?
That was a week ago and there had been no sight of the Godfather since. Until last night. I made the mistake of letting Lee order me a chai tea latte at 5:30 yesterday, which means I was still wide awake at 12:30 last night. I stumbled into the dark bathroom and just as I rounded the corner, he was there.
The mob boss.
He scattered around in an effort to throw me off his trail. I think he was trying to make me dizzy so I’d stumble and fall and he could attack more easily. But what he didn’t know was I wasn’t alone this time. I ran shrieking to Lee that I’d found the leader of the pack and with shoe in hand, Lee ended the life of the roach who has been watching me sleep at night just waiting for an opportune moment to burrow into my brain.
In an effort to shake off the horror, I’m going to the beach today.
See how I did that? I turned and rolled and sifted it all around until a trip to the beach was both justified and warranted.
Happy Monday to you all. *wink, wink*
There are a few things I’d like to get out there and not a single one of them relates to the other. So consider yoursevles forewarned – this post is random. And I’m including bullet points so that my Type A friends can get excited.
– First of all, the election is over. I’m not sure if you heard or not. Maybe where you are no one’s talking about it? Because where I am every. single. person AND their grandma’s second cousin’s best friend’s are discussing the results. Me?
I’m kind of over it.
It’s over and done and the decision has been made. It wasn’t the outcome I had hoped for, but we don’t always get what we want now, do we? Time to put on our big kid undies and forge ahead. Here’s to hoping we can move forward in kindness and without all the doomsday predictions, name calling and gloating.
The world isn’t going to hell in a handbasket. Not today, anyway. The only response that we can fall back on now is prayer. We must pray for wisdom and protection. We must pray for Israel and for our troops. We must pray for the plight of the unborn and for an immense intervention over the President and the decisions he must make.
Pray and cooperate where you can cooperate. Fight the battles worth fighting, but do so with respect. And realize that our country is headed in a different direction. Perhaps some of you are happy about the direction we’re headed. Maybe some of you aren’t happy about it. Whatever side you fall on, fighting won’t make it better.
We still have to figure out how to get round rolls on square pegs. Maybe we could work together a little more?
And in the end, we’ll always have Nutella. The day that is removed from the shelves is the day we pack our handbasket…
(I’m kidding, by the way. I know there are more serious things than Nutella, but by nature I am an optimist and a glass half full kinda gal. I’m like a cross between Tigger and Rabbit, with a tiny bit of Piglet thrown in for good measure. Please don’t send me nasty emails. Kumbaya, eh?)
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– Let’s lighten things up. Did you know that a brand new style blog has launched. It’s written by Mom’s for Mom’s and guess who is one of the Style Maven Mama’s featured?
ME!
Did you guess right?
Wait, why are you laughing? I’m stylish! I have pink hair. And really, come on…YOGA PANTS ARE A STYLE!
Anyhoo…it is a FUN site put togehter by FUN people and will be a place that inspires you to look your best and to have FUN. (The caps lock makes it all seem so much FUN, doesn’t it?)
Hop on over to Together in 10 and get some style inspiration in ten minute bites from some lovely ladies of the web!
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– I’m still posting on my new website. I have some posts churning, but I need to let them stew a bit. I’ve found it is much more to my (and your) benefit if I sit on posts now and again to make sure that those are words I really want the whole wide world to read.
Or, ya know, the 17 people who visit this blog. Whatever.
KelliStuart.com is up and running. Boom!
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– I worked out today. I know that’s not very exciting, but it happens so rarely these days that I feel like it deserves a little recognition.
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– I have some big ideas churning around to have a little fun around here while raising money for the adoption. Several friends of ours are currently in country (or have recently returned home) to pick up their adopted children and can I tell you that every time I see a picture of a little one wrapped in the arms of her new parents, I fall into fits of ugly crying?
I long for that day. Who is she? Where is she?
Pray for our daughter, please? Cover her with the wings of your prayerful protection until the day when we can reach her.
Okay – so that’s all for now. Come back tomorrow for a fun little review/giveaway.
Jiggety jig.
(The weather is so chilly right now, I just feeling like jiggeting wherever I go. Jiggety jiggety jig!!!)
PS – How are you doing right now? You’re praying for me – how can I pray for you?
A picture of my little natural.
Last night I wandered into the family room to find Lee watching The Natural on TV. I sat down on the couch and watched Robert Redford swing the bat a few times, then turned to look at him.
Me: “So what’s going on here?”
Lee (eyes wide): “Have you never seen The Natural?”
Me: “Well, I’ve seen bits and pieces, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the whole thing from beginning to end.”
Lee: “I can’t even believe I married you.”
Me: “Is he about to get shot?”
Lee: “No. He gets shot at the beginning of the movie. This is the end.”
Me: “Oh. Then why is his side bleeding like that?”
Lee: “He…(sigh)he had surgery.”
Me: “Oh….well, I do know that it was Barbara Hershey who shot him.”
Lee (heaves a long, impatient sigh): “Yes. Barbara Hershey shot him.”
Me: “Who’s that blonde chick in the box up there?”
Lee: “That’s Kim Basinger.”
Me: “Well I know it’s Kim Basinger. But who is she in the movie. Why is she crying?”
Lee: “It would really be helpful if you watched the movie from the beginning.”
Me: “You know, I did see the whole thing once. One of my teachers in high school played it in class.”
Lee: “Were you sleeping or something?”
Me: “No. I was flirting with a cute senior. I can’t remember his name, but I remember he was on the baseball team.”
Lee: “A dude on the baseball team was more interested in flirting with you than watching The Natural? Weirdo.”
Me: “I was very beguiling back then. Man…I wish I could remember his name. He was really cute.”
Lee (muttering): “I guess.”
Me: “So why do you think this is such a great movie? I mean, it’s not even historically accurate, right? This isn’t a true story, is it?”
Lee: “No, it’s not a true story, but it’s just so awesome. I mean, it’s a great story. Great writing. Great acting. Great music.” He starts humming along to the music.
Me: “Huh. Well, why is Roy Hobbs so much older than everyone else?”
Lee: “Because he got shot and left the game for a long time. But he used to be a real up and comer. In fact, he once struck out the Great Bambino.”
Me: “Well, if he struck out Babe Ruth, then why doesn’t anyone know who he is?”
Lee: “Because…you know what, you just need to watch the movie. I can’t explain it all.”
Me: “Oh! Is this the part where he hits a Grand Slam to win the game?”
Lee: “He doesn’t hit a Grand Slam. There are only two runners on base.
Me: “He doesn’t hit a Grand Slam?! What’s so exciting about the ending then? This movie doesn’t make any sense. There are just too many holes in the plot. I don’t get why boys consider it the greatest movie ever.”
Lee: “I’m gonna need you to stop talking.”
Me: “Man, I really thought he hit a Grand Slam at the end. This is a let down.”
Lee: “I’m going to bed.”
He did go straight to bed, shocked and saddened and entirely baffled by my lack of knowledge. I, on the other hand, went to bed trying to remember the cute baseball player’s name who prevented me from seeing this movie the first time.
So I have now added, “Watch The Natural from beginning to end” on the Bucket List of things to do before I die. I kind of think I have to to save my marriage.
For those of you who would like to watch the last homerun (which according to my husband is “just so emotional and awesome and exciting and cool”), here you go. BUT BE WARNED: He does not hit a Grand Slam here. That knowledge has forever ruined my feelings about this movie.
The good news is that I am still beguiling and despite my lack of knowledge or love for the alleged “greatest movie of all time” I can still charm my husband. So…score one for me.
I’m taking a break from my 31 Days topic because, quite frankly, I’m a little bored with it. I can only be serious for so long, folks, then my brain starts to smoke and tremor with the need to be ridiculous. I am not what you might call a “deep thinker.” I mean, I can pontificate (look out now – big word!) and dwell on things now and again and from time to time, I do feel the need to dig deep and write and talk pretty.
But then the silly must come out and I have to release the inner dialogue of humor that runs on a constant loop in my head or so help me, I will end up bursting out laughing at the most inappropriate of times.
Like church.
Or a funeral.
Or pretty much any situation that requires a certain amount of decorum and maturity.
So basically, I’m a twelve year old boy.
*this is the part where I eloquently transition to a new topic*
I shipped the kiddies off to school today and came to the beach. Because…well, because I can. Don’t hate. I’ve seen you all on Facebook talking about apple picking and pumpkin patching and wearing your scarves and boots and drinking your yuppy Starbucks.
blah, blah, blah…
All I have right now is the beach. Somebody call the Waaaambulance…
For the next three months, I will be desperately missing St. Louis. Just brace yourselves for it. It is what it is. I miss the pumpkin patch. I long to visit Eckert’s and stock up on 52 lbs of apples that we will never be able to eat before they all rot.
I miss the chill of fall and my boots. Sometimes I sit on the floor in the closet and whisper to my boots tenderly. I remind them that they’re still loved and I run my hand over them so they know they’re not alone. I may even whisper My Precious now and then, just so they know I’m here and I miss them.
While I am longing for autumn, I will fall back on the only thing I have. A rockin’ pair of sandles and the sunny shoreline of my favorite beach. And I will remind myself that Jesus probably likes the beach better than pumpkin patches and apple orchards, too.
And I will feel better.
Come January, I’m sorry, but I will no longer miss Midwest weather. I won’t miss snow and ice and temps that make you feel like your nose is falling off the second you step outside. I will walk outside with glee, and my boots and I will probably be reunited a few times before it gets too hot and I must send them back to the closet.
And that’s all I have to say about that.
*insert clever transition sentence here*
It’s a rough time to be four years old in the Stuart household these days. In the last two days, the four year old in our midst has colored on the bedroom carpet with purple marker…and the wall. He has slammed into the curtains in a moment of preschool insanity and pulled the curtain rods from the wall. And he has dropped and shattered a glass jar on the tile floor.
Guess what happens when your entire house is tiled and a glass jar shatters?
Glass. Goes. Everywhere.
You know what? Discard what I said above. It’s not hard to be a four year old right now – it’s hard to be the mother of a four year old right now!
I feel like this right here:
I bet she has a four year old bird back at the nest who is slowly, and completely by accident, destroying everything, too. I feel her pain. I just might curl up next to her and bask in the sun. She totally has the right idea.
*pretend I say something wildly hilarious here*
So I’m gonna go now. I’m sitting in a coffee shop right by the water and the beach is calling my name. Literally, I hear it. The waves lap the shore and each time they do I hear, Keeelllliiiii….Cooooommmmeee….Plllllaaaaaayyyyyy.
I shall not ignore the ocean any longer lest I be smote.
Have a good Tuesday. I feel so much better having released the nonsense inside my head.
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