Breakfast

Have you ever pondered how much money you spend on breakfast cereals? Have you actually looked at the label and figured out what you're spoon feeding to your children? The ingredient list on some of the "healthy" cereal choices (Cheerios I'm looking at you!) will shock you!

I removed, quite a while ago, the typical boxed cereals from my home. Breakfast, in my opinion, should be something cooked. Why? Because when you have to prepare your food, you think much more about what you are consuming.

Breakfast in our home is often Oatmeal. There are a thousand different ways to flavor it: apples, pears, cranberries, nectarines, blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, peaches, cinnamon, sugar, honey, milk, almonds, real maple syrup, and on and on. It's also cheap. I buy one box of oats for $6.99 a month and that feeds all of my children. You can scarcely pay that amount of money for one box of Cheerios nowadays! Plus, I control the sugar amount in their cereal (and often times I don't put any sugar at all!). Oatmeal can be made in the refrigerator (refrigerator oatmeal) overnight, in the crockpot (overnight), or in a pot in the morning (takes approximately 15 minutes from start to finish). You can use frozen fruits (I buy fruit in season, wash and freeze it myself, and use it as needed throughout the year), fresh fruit, and more. You can create a breakfast buffet with oatmeal toppings and allow your children to pick their own.

The possibilities are endless! So think about making a breakfast change and put some more change in your pocket! ;)

worry

"The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4 PM on some idle Tuesday." -Mary Schmich

The above quote is from one of my favorite essays. It was made famous by Baz Luhrman in his song "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)". The statement has long held true in my life.

We live in a society guided by worries. We're worried about death, injuries, loss. We're worried about suffering. We're so worried that we bury ourselves in laws, "protections", ideas of prevention... We will do anything to ease our worried minds.

We are now in a period of immense worry in this nation. We are worried about our children's safety, public schools, taxes, jobs, losing our gun rights, having too many gun rights, chemicals in our food, cancer, water supplies, shelter, electricity, gas costs, environmental destruction, having enough, having too much, losing it all... and these are just to name a few. It's exhausting.

Worrying is "as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum." -Mary Schmich (another tidbit of awesomeness from that essay). Stop. It's not going to change anything. It's only going to fill your days with misery. It's not going to engage the opposing viewpoint. Posting articles and links on facebook isn't going to change the world. Get up and do something. Write your congress person. Join an organization that is fighting the good fight. Invest in a bicycle. Recycle. Stop buying things you don't need and can't afford. Teach your children what to do in a dangerous situation. Homeschool. Private school. Join the PTA. Buy a gun. Destroy a gun you might own. DO something. Stop worrying.

Cristes Maesse, The Mass of Christ (AKA Christmas)

If December 25th is about Jesus' birth, then why aren't the weeks leading up to it about a young, teenage girl, who risked her life, wholly humbled herself to what God had foretold, and laid it all on the line to bring this boy into the world? Shouldn't the season of advent be about celebrating her obedience, diligence, humility, bravery, and faith? Put yourself in her shoes, imagine how you would feel coming home to your parents from a vacation, obviously pregnant, knowing you hadn't shagged anyone, and then trying to convince them that you legitimately are still a virgin. Imagine knowing you had done nothing wrong, but everyone around you believing the opposite. What about the man who had every opportunity and reasoning to have her killed? Shouldn't this also be about his mercy, grace, and obedience to God as well? They both risked it all to protect this child. They both could not possibly have imagined what was to come from their faithfulness, but they did it anyway.

What about the three men who traveled from God-knows-where to find out what this light was leading them to? How they risked it all, to disobey a king famous for a fiery temper and a murderous heart. How about the men in a hillside, keeping watch over their flocks (their livelihood) who left it all and went to see this baby that was born. Their flocks could have been stolen, eaten, or have taken off, but they deemed the child to be worth losing it all.

What about how nothing in scripture says to commemorate, honor, cherish, celebrate, or do anything to recall when Jesus was born? But instead, the Bible says that His Mother will be called Blessed for all generations because of her actions. It was His death, resurrection, and conquering sin that is to be cherished, but Easter only gets one day (unless you're Catholic), and even that day isn't very highly cherished or filled with glee and excitement.

What about how Jesus wasn't actually born on December 25th? People are falling all over themselves to "remember the reason for the season" but forgetting that we haven't the faintest idea when Jesus was born, and that this holiday, ages and ages ago, was most likely pagan; choosing to be deeply offended that the secular world, quite possibly, is taking back what was theirs to begin with. Excellent article here with more in depth information on the birth of Christ and Christmas

For me, this period of feasting is about many things. It's about a young girl who believed God more than I think I would have had the courage to. This same girl nursed the Savior of all, changed Him, cuddled Him, comforted Him, and raised Him. It's about a man who loved her and God, in a most profoundly beautiful way. It's about people who risked it all just to lay eyes on this human being that was anxiously awaited. It's about God stripping Himself down to become one of the very creatures He had created, in order to save them. It's about giving all of ourselves to something bigger than we could have ever hoped for or imagined. It's about teaching my children that the most extravagant gifts come in the most unexpected packages and places. It's about heart's breaking to see someone hungry and walk right by them. It's about looking at the world with the same set of eyes that God used to send His Son to save us.

I believe, this season should be spent pondering these things and examining ourselves. If we were called to throw every thing down on the line (our livelihood, our bodies, what everyone we know thinks about us, etc etc) what would WE actually do? Would we risk it all? Or would we reject the call? In the words of my daughter's Opthalmologist: "Pick up that phone! When you get that call, it is very important!"

Jake

You know that scene in I Am Legen where Will Smith's character is grieving the death of Sam, the dog? I can wholly relate to that emotion. In fact, I am quite certain that when the dog pictured above, Jake, goes to heaven, I will grieve for ages. I will break in to a thousand little pieces. You see Jake, is the four-legged-love-of-my-life.

When I was a kid, I had the pleasure of being introduced to a family that would forever change my life. I met that family because they had a dog that I believed was a wolf. His name was Buck and he was an Alaskan Malamute (wolf-looking to pretty much any kiddo). Buck introduced me to the wonderful world of loving a dog. I remember laying all over this dog when he would take a nap by the window of the entry way. I remember the giant hole that he dug underneath his doghouse. I remember the comfort that he gave when you needed it. He simply was, the greatest dog.

Buck showed me that an animal can massively impact your life. I honestly believed that it was a one of a kind experience. I never thought I'd love another dog like I loved Buck. And then I met Jake.

We met Jake when we went to the pound to rescue a dog. There had been a lot of break-ins in our neighborhood and since we rented our home, we could not install an alarm system. When we walked in, we went right to a beautiful German Shepherd. Lolli was immediately interested in that dog. We never even saw Jake. The staff said the GS was off limits (apparently there was a dispute over the dog in a divorce, so the court ordered him to dog-prison while it got sorted out), but suggested we look at this chocolate lab. Jake didn't even budge an inch when we walked up to his cage (maybe that's why we didn't notice him). I think he was incredibly depressed (who wouldn't be?) and had maybe given up hope. You see his friend (that came in with him) was put down because he was a pitbull. Jake lost his friend and his family all in one day.

We asked to take Jake out to the yard to see how he connected with us. The second he was off the leash and in the yard, he. went. wild. He was running around like a mad man. You could hardly get him to respond in any way to anything you said. He was SO happy to be free! How could a person who just gave birth to triplets, who had been caged to a couch for seven months, not relate to this? I called him over and did the standard if-I-torture-you-like-a-kid-might-what-are-you-going-to-do test and he passed with flying colors. He didn't even bat an eye when I pulled his ears! Home with us, he came.

He loved me immediately. He would listen to me, was stuck to my side almost constantly, and would destroy all of my items (clothes mostly) when he was left alone. He hated when I left him. He chewed through countless pairs of my underwear, pants, shorts, socks, shirts, and on and on. Basically if it smelled like me, he would ruin it. But, he never once stepped foot in the triplets or Lolli's rooms, never chewed on their toys, and listen incredibly well. He was smart, eager, and loving.

When we moved from our last duty station, we kenneled him for one night so that the movers wouldn't have him underfoot. When I dropped him off, they almost had to sedate him. He was panicking with his whole life to get to me. It broke my heart. Then when I went to pick him up, he was so mad at me for two days. He wouldn't greet me, and he intentionally ignored me. He. was. pissed!

Over the years, he has maintained his steadfast devotion to me. When I've gone out of town, Chief says he's inconsolable, wandering around the house like he's lost. He is always at my feet. He could be immersed in play or any other activity, but the second I call his name, he's right up to me, or half in my lap (he won't ever climb all the way in to my lap. I believe it's because he doesn't want to hurt me). Even if he's eating his food, he'll stop eating if I call him.

This dog knows when I'm sad, and does everything he can to comfort me. He knows when I'm sick and he'll put his whole body against me to make me feel warm. He is completely self sacrificing when others are suffering. There was one night when he and Flawful outside to go to the bathroom and it was really cold. Jake wrapped his body around her to keep her warm, while he was freezing. He came in the house and bolted toward me. He was so cold he was shaking. I of course, wrapped my comforter and my whole body around him until he was warm (and then proceeded to get upset that somehow we didn't notice how cold it was). Flawful was completely warm.

This dog gets me. He's never been afraid of me, or intimidated by me. He loves me wholly and completely.

So I tell you, when he goes away to heaven I will be a complete basket case. I will probably wander around the house like I'm lost. He is the four-legged-love-of-my-life. He is my furry soul mate.

Break up

You abandoned me. There was all this talk for months and months about how we were a group that would "always be friends". I heard over and over "You're my best friends". But the simple truth was that when my world changed, and my heart was broken, and when my world was falling apart and beginning again, you were nowhere to be found.

It hurt. It makes me angry. I resent you for it. I wanted things to be different than they are.

I know that us becoming Catholic was, in your opinion, us becoming toxic water. You resisted it, you hated it. And you hated him and resented him for being a friend that I connected to more than you. It was obvious. The jealousy whenever he was around. The eye rolls when I would say what he'd taught me. I make no apologies for having someone come into my life who helped my family find Truth. I also make no apologies that he and I are more similar than I am with you. I wish it did not result in the break up of our relationship, but I suppose I can't help that.

It's maddening because I actually miss you. And I shouldn't. Anyone who abandons you because of what you believe, because of the hurts you are experiencing, should not be missed. But you are. And I suppose one day I'll forget about you and move on. I suppose one day this won't ache anymore. But in the now, it does.

I can't get no satisfaction

There are moments where you just really need to get up at five am with your husband. Moments where you need to lay down on the couch, ear to his chest, and fall asleep to his heartbeat. There are moments where the only time comfort comes is in that place, in that experience, where you know that your hearts are beating in unison... They are beating as one.

The last few months have been wrought with emotional roller coasters. I feel like it's been an endless array of the platform on which I'm standing dropping lower, becoming content in it, and then it dropping again. The cycle keeps coming and I'm growing weary.

There are moments when I envy the simple mindedness that others seem to enjoy. There are moments when I wish the complicated experiences that I carry around in my head would just go away. There are moments when I wish I could be someone other than who I am.

But isn't that really how it is for everyone? Don't we all look around at the lives of others and think they've got it better? The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

When I look around at what I have I feel like sucker punching myself. I am blessed beyond words. I have so much more than I ever hoped, imagined, envisioned, and prayed for. And the real truth is that if it wasn't for Chief, I'd probably be dead. I was dead for so long before he came. Sure people would come in and out of the picture with their CPR machines and their attempts at reviving my dead heart. And maybe it would beat for a while but it always went right back to where it was. Until he came. And then everything changed. I started feeling things I'd never felt before. I started to see the world in different colors and my whole vision of my future changed. He made my heart beat because it wanted to. Not because he begged it to.

I can honestly say that every time I look over at him I think wow. I feel breathless. And to have one human being who is capable of quieting the voices in my mind... well that's priceless.

Our kids are pretty awesome. And they surprise me at completely random times. Take today, for instance, the trips aced their schoolwork. Almost every single day they fight and resist me in every way possible. But today? Nope! They were on their A games and they rocked it. That was really cool.

They do amazing and kind things for each other, most often when no one is looking or paying attention. Yes, they fight like crazy, but then I'll walk down the hallway and catch Charchee saying to Brun Here sister! You should have this Barbie because she's the prettiest and you are beautiful. That's what I get to experience every day.

I have this dog who completely gets me. He gets when I need to be left alone and when I need to be loved on. He knows when I need to be distracted and he does it. He's my four legged soul mate. And I often say (and believe) that he's the four-legged-love-of-my-life.

And yet with all these amazing aspects of my life, I still have moments of dissatisfaction. I still struggle with wanting something else, or something more. I still look at other people's lives and think wow, they have it so easy. It's a sickness really. It's this irritating aspect of myself where I am completely in denial about how awesome the life I have is.

But I can honestly tell you, I have moments where I need to get up at five am, put my ear to his chest, listen to his heartbeat and fall asleep. There are moments where that's the only time I feel any sort of comfort. And that's okay.

Ace

It was a crazy period of my life. Every thing was sort of disintegrating and I lost my footing. For that period of time, the falling seemed to never stop. As soon as I thought I'd hit rock bottom it would get deeper. As soon as I thought it couldn't get any worse, it would.

You were thrown into my lap by the guilty conscience of the SOB whose name is tattooed on my mind. His markings came and went and I am grateful that I don't remember his face anymore. But the scars are evident. They ache sometimes, though those are fewer and farther apart as the years go by.

You told me you were the cleaner. He'd make a mess and you'd get sent in to fix what he broke. You didn't reckon you'd fall in love with me. I didn't reckon you'd make me feel much of anything. I was so numb. I was in such denial. But there you were in the midst of the complete chaotic moments of my life and all of a sudden I had some one that I believed in.

It was so stupid to be so stupidly in love. It was so foolish to think that it would actually take us anywhere. We were young and naive and all-in. The crazy thing is that I still, to this day, can't pinpoint exactly why I was so desperate for you or why we both were so harmed by that period of time where we were together.

So much of the ins and outs have faded away now. When I look back on it, I usually smile. It was a time when I needed someone and you were there. It was a time when I was a complete nutcase and you still stuck around. It was a time where I felt toxic and hideous and unattainable and you stood firm like a rock while I crashed up against you over and over again.

It was also the most painful goodbye I ever experienced. And you called me a few weeks later on my birthday. I remember shaking and sobbing uncontrollably when the call ended. I was curled up in a bawl for a year over you. I cried more than I ever cried about anything, over you. Saying goodbye to you hurt.

The truth was that we just didn't have it in us to love each other the ways that were needed. There weren't any good guys or bad guys. There was just two people who had the ability to see the good in each other, but not the skills required to love each other peacefully.

I still think about you some times. I still think about how hard I loved you, and that some part of me always will.

The experience of letting go

Unwrapping my fingers from yours, relaxing my arms and letting them drop to my sides, and standing there frozen in this moment watching you walk away. My feet are cemented to the ground. My heart is breaking. I drop my sunglasses down over my eyes. I don't like to cry. I don't like for people to see me cry. I don't like feeling so desperate.

You walk over to get in the formation that will lead you away from me. I do everything in my power to keep my mind focused and sharp. I want to remember you. I want to remember your smell, your smile, your laugh. I want to remember the feel of your scruffy cheeks in the morning before you shave. I want to remember the sound of your breathing at night. I want to remember...

Always in the back of the conversation in my mind is what if? It's an endless dialogue that will keep me company for the next year. It will plague my dreams and my thoughts. It will haunt me every time the doorbell rings unexpectedly. It will be the thoughts that pop up late at night when the kids are asleep and the house is quiet.

My ears will hunger for the sound of the garage door opening at the end of the duty day. My eyes will search for you in the sea of uniforms that surround me. Your car will shock my heart every time I pull up to our house and see it, because for a split second I will forget that you're over there and not sitting at home in our living room.

Our children will react the only way that children know how. They will be angry, out of control, emotional and they won't really understand the whole process of grief. I hate that they are learning this at such young ages.

The world will go on even though my entire world is frozen in time. People will laugh and be silly and I will feel like laughing is a betrayal and any moment that could be special is missing the majority of the equation. I will write. I will write until my hands can't move. I will do everything possible to make sure you feel included.

My phone will become my only connection to you. I will love this and hate it at the same time.

You are marching out now and I'm running as fast as I can to my car so I can be at the airfield before you and wave you in. My final goodbye. My last eye-to-eye glimpse of you. It will now be skype... the lifeline.

Somehow I have to get in my car and drive home. Somehow I have to walk in to that house with your stuff, your ghost, your memory and face those children who are all aching and hurting and give them comfort. Some how I have to get through this because they need me, and you need me, and this is what I'm supposed to do. Somehow I am going to make it through the next minute, even though it feels like my life is over. Somehow I'm going to endure this year even though in this specific moment, I feel like I. can't. breathe. Somehow...

I'll sit here in this garage waiting until the sobs stop. I'll sit here waiting until I can breathe again. I'll find the will to begin this life without you here. I'll get through the agony that I can't describe. And one day, God willing, I will wake up and this will be over.

Thanksgiving Breakfast

It's Thanksgiving Day! In honor of this, my favorite holiday, I will share one of my secret recipes with you. Enjoy!

My attempt at food photography

Apple Cranberry Oatmeal (AKA Thanksgiving Breakfast)

Ingredients:

Oats (I prefer not instant)

3-4 large apples (I use Golden apples)

1/2 Cup Prepared cranberry sauce (you can also use canned, if you didn't make your own. It doesn't matter if it's jellied or not)

1 TBSP Cinnamon

1/2 Cup Brown Sugar

1/4 Cup of butter

Prepare Oats per package instructions. I make enough to feed six people.

Finely dice apples. You can peel the apples, but I do not. Melt butter in a saucepan on the stove. Bring butter to boiling, and immediately add the apples. Cook for 1-2 minutes while the butter is boiling. Reduce heat to low-med. Add brown sugar and cinnamon. Stir. Leave apples to simmer on the stove for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove apples from heat. Add cranberry sauce to apples and stir well to combine. Pour over prepared Oats and enjoy!

Hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving! 

Monday Motto

In our home, "playing" is earned. It's not a right. Pick up your jaw, stop envisioning me as some natzi psycho parent who is a cruel, horrible slave driving parent. It's not as hard core as you think. It's that I believe children should learn and understand that good things come after hard work, not good things get interrupted by hard work.

The way that the kids "earn" playing is by cleaning for 20 minutes or by completing a cleaning assignment. For example: today, Brun had to clean all of the kitchen cabinet faces. When she completed the assignment, she had earned her play time for the day. The whole process took her five minutes. However, when she finished, she earned lots of gratitude from me (Good job Brun! It looks so nice and clean! (sniffing) Oh wow it smells so wonderful in here! Thank you so much for helping me!) and now she's off playing with the toys.

I think it's important for the kids to understand that life doesn't work in an instant gratification kind of way. We don't immediately get to have whatever it is we want. Waiting can be good. Working towards a goal can be good. I want them to learn to set daily goals and accomplish them.

So here's my Monday motto: teach your kids, and perhaps yourself, that games, toys, electronics, etc are things that can be enjoyed after 20 minutes of hard work is complete!

Shining like the dawn

Do you have kids afraid of the dark? I have one who has apparently inherited that awful experience. She is terrified of the dark, and in true-to-how-her-mother-was fashion, she is almost always sleeping in bed with her sister (remember Jo!?).

Last night the hallway light, bathroom light, basically every light the kid had the bravery to get up and turn on, was on when my husband got up to go to work (his exact words: our room was lit up like the sun was shining this morning when I got up). They weren't on when we went to bed, so we know someone got up and turned them on. This prompted a conversation with my kids this morning:

Me: Did someone get up and turn on the bathroom and hallway lights last night?
Charchee: (hand up) I did.
Me: Why did you do that?
Charchee: Because I was scared.
Me: Thank you for admitting that you did it. But do you know why we need to not do that? It is very important that we think very carefully about everything we're using on our planet. When we leave lights on while we sleep, we waste resources that could have been used to do something else.
Charchee: Well I was scared.
Me: What are you scared of?
Charchee: The dark.
Me: What about the dark?
Charchee: The monsters in the dark. Well, at least I think there are monsters in the dark, but they're not real.
Me: How do you know they're not real? Did you ask them?
Charchee: WHAT!? Ask them? 
Me: Yeah! Why don't you ask them if they're real!
Charchee: (laughs)
Me: Listen, the world is filled with all sorts of beautiful things that come JUST when you're scared. They're called angels. Angels come in the darkness and they keep watch over you. Maybe those monsters you've been seeing are really angels hanging out in your room! But if you turn the lights on, then the angels hide.
Charchee: Why would an angel come in my room?
Me: Maybe they want to check out your really neat angel halloween costume!
Charchee: WWWWHHHHHAAAATTTT! (laughing) I bet they really like it and they want it!
Me: Maybe you'll be able to catch them tonight and then you'll know it's really angels and not monsters in your room. But you have to keep it really, really dark or you won't be able to see them!
Charchee: Okay Mommy. I'm going to look for them.

I think as parents our instinct is to tell children things are not there or real. But that's simply not accurate. Whether you believe in God or not, there are presences that come and surround us all the time. For some people it's ghosts, for others angels/demons, deceased family members, or it's the dreams and ambitions of a creative mind. Whatever you believe, I think that telling a child there is no such thing as monsters is ludicrous. Maybe my creative child, actually sees monsters in the darkness. Maybe the best thing is to teach our frightened children that scary things really do exists, but there are tools to handle them.

In our home I want to teach my children to understand the things they can not see. There is so much to believe in that is not something we can physically touch or feel. While I absolutely wish my child was not afraid of the dark, I am thankful for the opportunity to dive into this scary experience and show her how awesome the unseen things can actually be. So awesome, in fact, that they're scary ;)

Operation Waxation Nation Savings

Women are furry. Let's just face it. And we're not necessarily furry in the cute puppy kind of way. We're furry in gross, terrifying places that men would probably panic if they actually knew how furry we really are. The mustache? It's not just for men... Apparently God thought it would be funny to give it to us ladies too, and then He saw fit to invent all sorts of things for us to keep that sucker under control. Can I say unibrow? Um, the majority of women actually have one, if they don't tame the wild eye brow beasts that are growing on their faces. I promise you, it's highly likely that your tender dear feminine love has a forest growing someplace that you would rather not EVER know exists.

This brings me to my how-to-save-on-something point. Stop investing your hard earned dollars on a waxation nation consultant and become your own. That's right folks, I am advocating learning to do it for yourself. About a year ago, I purchased my own "wax at home" kit and learned to tame the furry beasts on my face. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of money I have saved by learning to wax myself. Not to mention, I can wax at my convenience, not someone else's.

I have insanely sensitive skin (seriously), and waxing myself allows me to be selective about the type of wax and the temperature it is heated to (believe it or not, the temperature is a huge factor over whether or not I look like a tractor plowed across my face).

Gone are the days of paying someone else to do my dirty work. Present are the days where I can say ca ching! every time I warm up my little wax pot. :)

Happy Thursday!

Coupons, the new addiction

Tuesdays are quickly becoming one of my favorite days. You know why? Tuesdays are the days when the circulars come in the mail box! Woohoo! It's the one day we get to open up the box and get free money! YAY! Last night I laid out my circulars, evaluated my sales, cut my coupons, and analyzed what I am going to get this weekend with my grocery trip. 

The kids and Chief are nervous that I'm going to become one of those couponing addicts. I seriously don't think I will. I'm not interested in buying things I don't need. I think that's kind of selfish. But I am interested in saving money for my family on the items we use! 

I have discovered that making a list of prices is incredibly important when trying to save money at the grocery store. It is important to have sale price, and coupons listed together. I also separate out all of the coupons I will be using on that particular trip and put them in a green paperclip (green for "go" and red for "stop"). It's how I know which one's I'm using. I fold the tip down on that coupon when I've put it in my cart (so I know I have it) and cross it off my list. It also helps me to keep track.

Have you started using coupons? Even a little bit?

Groceries, what!?

Shopping for a large family can be expensive. Living on a military income, I have had to deeply penny pinch every aspect of our lifestyle. Regardless of what some politicians seem to think (politicians who have never lived on a military income, I might add), we make very little money. I'm not complaining, a paycheck is a paycheck and I am quite grateful for the one we get, but it makes for some tight living.

Every month we make our family budget. This is done for a couple of reasons:
1) We have to stretch that meager Sergeant's salary VERY far
2) We do not use any credit cards whatsoever. We live only on a cash budget, so if we don't have the cash, we don't buy it.
3) We like to know what we're spending on, preparing for, and whether or not we need to re evaluate our purchases.

My budget this month had a massive wrench thrown into it, when the husband announced he needed new tires. Yesterday. It might not sound like a big deal for you, but when you randomly have to alter your budget by hundreds dollars, things have to go. I started to slightly hyperventilate. I was panicking. Where was I going to come up with this much money!?

I started evaluating my food purchases. I started investigating using coupons and where/how I could save cash. It took a lot of planning. I had to really think about what stores were selling, which coupons I had, and the best days to purchase.

Albertsons store offers a 10% military discount off your total purchase on the first Saturday of each month. YAY! They also happened to be having a big sale this weekend on many thanksgiving food items. SUPER yay! After looking through my stash, carefully analyzing things, and making up a VERY specific list, I was able to get our month's groceries (minus our weekly produce needs) for WAY under my projected budget. Today I saved $119.69 at Albertsons, using coupons. It was a truly beautiful experience. I stood there at the register and nearly had a heart attack when he said my savings.

I am really starting to rethink shopping at the Commissary. I would have spent twice the amount I spent at Albertsons on the same items.

The power of an hour

There are certain days where the daily routine needs to be changed. Today is one of those days.

In a normal day, I have four children who are happy, well rounded individuals. They learn, play, communicate, and enjoy each other's company. We challenge ourselves and each other to discover new things and it's a blast. Then there are days where I genuinely start to wonder if my children have been invaded by body snatchers that are completely insane.

The days started off rough. Whining, crying, fighting, arguing, ignoring me, carrying on, etc etc etc had all occurred within the first 30 minutes of them being awake and has pretty much carried on throughout the day.

What is the solution to this madness? A nap. I kid you not, an hour of laying down, completely bored, totally silent, seems to do something to these body snatchers. My normal children return and life goes on as usual. You'd think that at 7 and 5, this would have little to no effect, but that has yet to be the case.

I think sometimes we all tend to get a little wrapped up in emotional chaos and that trickles it's way into every aspect of our thought processes throughout the day. This hour of quiet rejuvenates, revives, and reconnects all of us to sanity.

When you're having a day like mine, try creating an hour of rest. At the most, a little classical music can be on, but the goal is to have it as quiet as possible. You might be amazed at how quickly zen returns to your home.

Cleaning with Kids

I am almost constantly amazed at how quickly a completely clean home can go to filth. I'm not talking about messiness, I'm talking about filth. We have a rule in our home that every morning we all spend 20 minutes cleaning during the week. All five of us (not six because Dad is off doing his keeping-our-nation-safe-Army stuff) get up, turn on some music (I almost always let the kiddos pick), and get to work.

Each day the workload is bit different. Some times it's sweeping, dusting, mopping, picking up, tidying up, organizing, scrubbing, etc etc. Some days it's bathrooms, other days it's the coloring box (we have a box where all of the kids' colored creations go and we occasionally have to go through and purge what isn't very important, and then set aside what is important to go in the end of year coloring book). 

Today on the menu was an actual cleaning of my house. I kid you not that the house has been cleaned for an hour and already there is dog hair collecting in the corner. I'm beginning to believe that my Chocolate lab sees a clean floor, goes over to the corner, sheds what looks like enough hair to make a woolen sweater, and then walks off. Is this the dog version of marking their presence? You know, like how single individuals will leave an item of theirs in their significant others' home/vehicle/stuff. He's not allowed to pee in the house so maybe this is second best!?

Our other dog quickly got to work tearing apart his dog toy so that the stuffing would be all over the floor. Maybe he's trying to create the appearance of snow. The only problem with that theory is that he's 8 weeks old. He has no idea what snow looks like. :-/

My home looks funny to me right now. With the new pup in the house, all of the rugs have been removed from the floor. Don't judge me, do you want to clean up puppy accidents from a shag rug? I didn't think so. Now, to be fair, he has had almost no accidents in the house. He is an excited pee-er so occasionally a droplet will come out when he's SO happy to see you in the morning. But even that is pretty uncommon. He is quite genuinely the world's greatest puppy. But, until I am 100% certain that he is solidly beyond those days (and me and Hubs are solid on his cues, body languages, and signs) the rugs will stay rolled up in the corner of my living room, looking funny.

Well, I'm off to sweep the floor for the second time today! Hope you're having a wonderful Halloween and that you have an awesome "Holy Night" tonight (Halloween = Hallow's Eve = Holy Night).

Cloth it up

I have recently been working on cutting costs for my family. If we all seriously evaluate the items we purchase and whether or not they are actually necessary, or possible to reduce in waste, we could very positively effect our planet.

One of the ways that I've recently done this is by making cloth napkins. In a family with four young children, you can only imagine the number of napkins and paper towels that we go through on a daily basis. The kids are constantly wiping their hands, spilling a drink, and needing to wipe things up. 

After evaluating the cost of paper napkins, and how much waste they are producing, I decided to make some cloth napkins.

I started with 2 yards of a cotton fabric. I cut each of them to 21" X 21". Then I folded the edges down and ironed them. Cloth napkins do not need to be double lined because you fold them over anyway when you eat (think about a paper napkin, are they double lined? Nope!). 

Here is a picture of what my completed napkins look like:

Hope you get the opportunity to make some cloth napkins for your home and to save a few dollars! They really are quite delightful! And they absorb immensely more than a paper napkin! :)

Chevron: that's good stuff

I drive a minivan. It was an emotional experience the day I had to trade in my "cutesy" girl car and get the dreaded mom-van. It was almost like a death in the family. I had to resign myself to years and years of this plus-sized vehicle and it was tragic.

I settled on a Ford Freestar. As much as I loathed having to get a van, this was a most awesome one to get. It isn't really fancy, but it drives nicely, brakes nicely, gets great gas mileage (about 435 to a tank) and has served me quite well in the nearly six years that I've had it.

Many large families (and small one's too for that matter) have been trying to pinch pennies where ever they could, and we were no exception to that rule. The rising cost of gas has hit many of us hard in our wallets. As a result of this, I started buying our military gas (it's usually a couple of cents cheaper).

A few months ago I noticed my gas mileage severely dropping. I thought it might have been related to my van's need for a tune up. Took her in, had her tuned up, checked the air in the tires, yada yada yada, and STILL the gas mileage was dropping. It wasn't a minor drop either, it was down to about 310 miles to a tank of gas (that's 125 miles less than normal!).

I was talking to my Dad about the gas situation and he asked what gas I purchased for my car. I said "The generic stuff. Isn't all gas the same?" Well, according to Pops, not so much. Apparently different gas companies do different things to their gas.

A little bit of research later and I decided that I was going to give my car what I have named "The Chevron Challenge." I challenged my car to two tanks of gas (I didn't think one would be completely fair), and if I didn't see a mileage improvement, I would stick with the cheaper stuff.

My very first tank of Chevron gas instantly upped my mileage to 417 miles a tank (I have a 23 gallon tank). The second, 443. The third, 472. I am on my fourth and at my current trend, I am prepped to reach nearly 500 miles to a tank.

Chevron gas costs more to purchase initially. However, with the increased gas mileage, I am saving money by buying Chevron gas. My husband's vehicle has now been switched to Chevron and his mileage has doubled.

I wanted to share this with all of you because the changes were so significant. So I will leave you with this: Are you willing to take the Chevron challenge?

Note: I am not being paid by Chevron to advocate for their gas. I am simply stating my opinions on a way to save money.

Raw nakedness

There are some experiences that are difficult to define. They're filled with such sheer emotionality that it's almost impossible to put them to words. So we pick soundtracks. We pick songs and colors and paintings to sort of explain away the intensity.

I'll never forget the moment that you first saw me naked. Barriers down, masks and charades completely removed. Me, exposed. Raw. Ferocious. Devastated.

I was curled up in a ball ready to die. Truth be told, I was ninety percent dead at that point. I was unlovable. I was unattainable. I was completely disconnected from anyone, anywhere who could possibly understand or perceive me.

You were a thousand miles away, connected through this phone line.

And I don't know what made me do it. Maybe it was simply that I couldn't not do it. Maybe it was luck, or safety, or desperation. Maybe it was this one freaking moment where my brain wasn't constantly calculating, analyzing, evaluating, and you had my chaos dumped on you. You had my nakedness exposed.

You touched my rawness. You climbed in to it and you loved it. In that singular moment, I learned a life lesson: what love looks like. And you said My sweet, what on earth has been done to you that you don't know what love looks like?

You screamed louder than the voices in my head. You loved harder than the terrors could beat me. Your breath heated up my frozen spirit. You were the miracle I begged God for. You were the proof that I wasn't completely worthless.

I still think about that massive canvas that was covered in shining gold on our first date. We went to look at art. And somewhere amongst the canvases, your fingers interlocked with mine for the first time. In that experience, I felt home. For those seconds, I wasn't waiting for the nightmare to come.

You're still the only person who has ever seen me like that.

Chief

I don't know how he did it, but somehow he made the girl who was never going to be dependent on anyone, completely codependent on him.

It's been a couple of thousand nights apart. It's been deployments, field times, gunnery's, schools, trainings, 24 hour duties... It's been millions of seconds where I didn't get to kiss you goodnight. It's been a multitude of exhausting days where I didn't get your support, or your jokes to make me feel better.

I don't see the silver lining. I hate all of them. I loathe them with a passion. This is the only way I know how to love: all encompassing.

You are the love of my life. And to say that sentence is both completely grandiose but also immensely an understatement. There is no human being walking around on this planet that I have needed, like I need you. There is no person who has mattered to me what you do. My life would suck without you. You are a rockstar and I am your fanatic. You are medicine to my broken heart, strength to my weakened muscles, and the reason why I get out of bed, most days. No pressure, right?

The thing that is both insane and amazing is that I know it is exactly the same way for you. I know you love me just the same way as I love you, if not more. In this intense way that can't be described. There are no words, musical notes, songs, colors, or things that can define it. It's indescribable.

It's divine. Magical. Powerful. You're the only person that could get me to enjoy sleeping next to them. You're the only person who showed me what safety felt like. And you did it in such an intense way that the safety lingers, even when all that's left is the ghost of your presence here.

You love me with a supernatural ability that only God could have given. And you've loved me beautifully, immaculately, astoundingly... You love me with a Holy love.

There is no "me" without you. There's no story of me, or funny in me, or joy in me, without you. You are my backbone. You hold me all together and make everything flow right. And it's not because you have to do it. It's not because I made you do it. I didn't beg it of you, or plead for it. You just do it.

I can't stand being apart. I can't stand the silence. I can't stand the ghost of your memory on our sheets or the smell of you fading away. I can't stand not seeing you, or feeling you, or being lost in you. I can't not hearing the sound of your heartbeat, or feeling the rising and falling of your chest while I fall asleep. I can't stand the cold of our room without you there to warm it up.

You are the only you that there is. I love you.

Wrestling with God

There are moments in every mother's life where you are walking out of a giant thunderstorm, the kind that are capable of destroying your home and entire family. The clouds roll away and the sun starts shining again. You can still see the storm on the horizon as it fades away, but the sun's rays are powerful. They're healing.

Miracles do happen. Whether you or I want to accept, believe, or trust in that, they do. It's not something that can be denied. Just as oxygen is undeniable, so are miracles.

It's strange to be in that place. It's strange to be gut struck from the sheer powerfulness of the storm. I almost feel stunned in place. I almost feel frozen. I was blindsided. Not by the circumstance, but rather my emotional reaction to it. I had never felt so broken, so battered, so utterly pissed off at God in my entire life. And I think that's saying quite a lot, given what I have lived through. I was enraged. I was so angry that I couldn't communicate. I was so devastated that I didn't want to talk; to God, to Chief, to myself...

I was done. I had reached the limit of what I was capable of enduring.

I stopped believing in the possibility of hope. I stopped believing her even to be capable of being all right. I stopped praying, because I was too afraid to. I lost my faith. I lost my hope. I lost myself.

The week before we were to receive the "ultimate" news, I had this strange moment within myself. I was talking to my friend and he told me (paraphrased) to be afraid, but to not lose hope. That hope was the opposite of fear and to not ignore either. I had a reason to be afraid. But I always have a reason to have hope.

I argued with him. It's very much so the nature of our relationship: we speak truths, argue, but most of the time end up coming to very similar conclusions. It just might take one of us a while to get there.

That Sunday in church, I knew that the Holy Spirit was talking to me. It was almost surreal, how well I knew it was Him. It was so clear: Let. it. go. There was no promise that everything would be all right in the end. There was no assurance, or comfort (in the context of what every mother wants in these scenarios), just a command: let. it. go. In other words, let her go. I remember saying in my mind I can't. Don't ask me to do that. I can't. The response was quick, because it's one I have often said to my children: If it's more important to you than I am, it's an idol that you've built up in your heart, and you shouldn't have it. BINGO. Nail on the head. Flashing sign, blinking lights, arrows pointing. My child's health had become my idol.

I cried through the whole service. I wrestled and fought and I ultimately let go. I put my child on that altar and I said "Okay. She's yours. Come what may."

The next morning, I woke up feeling completely different. I felt resigned. I felt ready. I felt strengthened. I also felt like the idea of my child having cancer was finally, not the essence of the end of my life. I finally felt ready to be there for her.

That night I finally had the courage to ask for what I wanted. "God? Please don't let my daughter be dying. Please don't let her have cancer. PLEASE don't take her away from me."

It was several days later that we went in for the results. It was several days of peace and living in the moment. It was several days where we felt almost "normal". And I promise you that when we walked in to that office, hand in hand, we believed he was going to say that she had leukemia. So when he said "I can say with 100% certainty that your daughter does not have cancer." Chief and I froze. It had to sink in. We had to almost do a double take. We were ALL so surprised.

I learned a lot from the scenario. Probably more than I can adequately communicate. I learned to trust God more. As strange as that may seem to read, it's the truth. Trusting God is probably the most difficult thing for me to do. I can't even seem to bring myself to trust the people I am surrounded by, let alone a physically invisible God, who can often times seem like a complete jerk. But I specifically asked Him for my child's health and He gave it. I asked Him for it, without genuinely believing that He would give it to me, and He still did. And maybe that's what having the heart of a child is really all about. Desperation. I have a need and You are the only one who is capable of giving it to me, so PPPLLLEEEEAAAASSSEEEE!?!?!?!

What I can clearly say is laughing, playing, and living right here in front of me. I have no idea what the future holds for her, or for me, or for anyone for that matter, but I asked God and He gave. For that, I am eternally grateful.

small update

I haven't written much lately. It's not that I don't have any desire to do so, it's just that life has kept me pretty busy.

I have been focusing on my children more and more. The life lesson about my daughter's health (and the miracle that came along with it) really helped to refresh my "momville" perspective. I spend far too much time not loving on them...

So I have attempted to minimize internet/phone/"busy time. I have attempted to engage them, connect, communicate in ways that will give them lasting memories. I have made an effort to remember that I am a role model, whether I want to be or not, and they're watching my conduct.

Even as I write this I'm pretty tired and I'm not very inspired.

What I feel the need to say is that I begged God for the life of my child, and He gave it. I begged, pleaded, cried, screamed and broke into a thousand little pieces and my daughter is miraculously fine. I can't say why we got a miracle when others don't, but I can say that the moment her doctor said she was astoundingly healthy, my heart rejoiced. I was so happy that I couldn't stop crying. It was absolutely beautiful. This news came just days before my 30th birthday. It was the greatest gift I could have been given. :)

Novena

I was having a pour-my-heart out session with my non-spouse-best-friend the other day. (side note: It's really weird being an adult and saying the terms "best friend" however, he is most definitely mine. It's a term I have not given to an individual in years. But certain people are destined to be in your life and he is absolutely destined to be in mine.) It was a conversation that I desperately needed to have and honestly I was eager to have it. I knew that he would tell me what I needed to hear (not what is generally believed to be appropriate, placating, or "comforting"). I knew he wouldn't try to comfort me with BS that isn't the truth. I knew he would acknowledge how hard this is, and allow me the freedom to be really pissed off, and he did. 

He also told me I needed to pray a Novena. It's something I adamantly objected to at first, but eventually agreed to think about doing. It's funny how the people who know you the best, often know what you most need to do, especially when you really don't want to.

After agreeing to contemplate this action, I went to bed and woke up to a church day. My family went to church, despite the fact that I genuinely did not want to go. 

At church our priest said something that punched me in the face. He said "EPHPHATHA!" (be opened!). He said open your ears, open your eyes, open your heart. He said open the windows of your experience. Let the air in. Be exposed. Be open. It was the first time in this entire ordeal that I knew the Holy Spirit was talking to me. I have not been open. I've closed all the layers of my oniony heart and hidden inside the cocoon. I have been too afraid to open myself up to the situation before me. 

So I'm still contemplating the Novena. Except that now it's much more likely that I will do it. I'm trying to open myself. I'm trying to stop hiding from all of the possibilities. I'm trying to expose the fear, anger, and dread to His light. I need His breath of fresh air. 

I'm trying. But I'm making no promises of success.

Dads

I think when something is happening to a child, the Dad's get overlooked. They become an almost afterthought. They're not overtly emotional (generally speaking), and the Mom's are generally handling the majority of the circumstances. Maybe I should state that this is how it is in my house. Chief gets overlooked, while I'm disintegrating into a million little pieces.

Last night I looked over at my amazing husband's face and he looked so defeated. He looked deflated, exhausted and destroyed. He looked exactly how my heart was feeling. I asked him what was wrong. He said he was tired. Isn't that what men often say? "Tired" translates to: I'm feeling every single thing that you're feeling: helpless, broken, terrified, angry, sad... but I know you need to feel that so I'm going to be strong for you and for her and I'm going to not give you one more thing to worry about.

The truth is, we're both in the same boat. We're both frustrated by the waiting... We both want to know, for good or for bad, what is going on with our daughter. We both want to be able to step back and survey what we're facing and then figure out how we're going to get through it. We're both hurting. We're both angry. We're both helpless.

Chief's love for me is like a lantern in the darkness. He's in the shelter with a light and I can go there to get my bearings. Somehow I forgot that he needs a little bit of light too. Somehow I forgot to create an environment where it's okay for him to grieve this process.

I love you Chief. You are an excellent Daddy. You're an excellent husband. You are the glue that holds me together. We will get through this. We've weathered some incredible storms. And even though this one feels like the hardest yet, we are all going to be okay.

navigating

I've been sitting here staring at the cursor on this page for a while now. I know I need to write something, but the words are struggling to come out. There are too many angles, too many directions to look in. All of the paths are completely dark. All of the emotions are completely overwhelming.

I. am. overwhelmed. It's really the best way to communicate my own perspective. And it's awful because this really isn't my experience. It's hers. It's her body getting shot after shot after shot. It's her blood going in to vial after vial after vial. It's her flesh being poked, prodded, analyzed.

There I stand, by her side, helpless. I can't make it not hurt. I can't make them not do it. I can't protect her from whatever the hell is going on inside of her. I. can't. fix. this.

So I let her squeeze my hand, and watch her knuckles turn white, when they draw blood. I let her hide behind me when the doctor's come around. I sit and listen when she asks me if she's dying...

What mother should EVER have to hear her 7 year old daughter ask her if she's dying!?!?!

When we were walking into the Oncologist's office today, Lolli was so scared she was shaking. She said I'm scared Mommy. I said I know. And we sat next to each other in the waiting room with her curled up against me.

The looks you get when you walk your daughter into the Pediatric Oncology office are heart wrenching. It's the looks of mothers saying to themselves "Oh my gosh... What if that was my child?" I know, because I've done it before.

Sitting across from me, in the waiting room, was a little girl who looked about the same age as Lolli. Her head was bald and she was getting some sort of treatment (I thought I heard a nurse say Chemo, but I'm not sure). I couldn't look at her. What kind of sickness is there in me that I couldn't look at that child? My inner voice just kept saying Don't cry. That's not your daughter. Don't cry. She's already scared enough...

The truth is, this situation is hell on earth. The truth is there's nothing than any one can really say or do. The truth is the only comfort that will come to me is when some doctor says that my child is fine. The truth is that the only thing I want is to honor God in the circumstance. I don't have to have peace. I don't need to not worry. I don't need to "give it all to God" and then live in some completely illusion-filled mentality that this isn't a living nightmare.

She is flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bone. Blood of my blood. She grew in my body, nursed at my breast, cuddled, snuggled, spit up on, cried to, and found comfort in my heart beat. She is half of my DNA, and the first human bi product of the fact that her Daddy and I love each other. She is the most immaculate human being, with the most awe inspiring heart, of anyone I have ever known. She doesn't deserve this.

In truth my emotions are all over the map. I have moments of calm and comfort where I genuinely believe she will be just fine. Then I have moments where the hysteria is so intense that I can't breathe. It's difficult to talk about it all. What is there to say? I mean, what the hell should I really say? Um... Yeah... My daughter might be dying. In fact it's beginning to look more and more like something really terrible is happening here... 

I'm angry. There's no denying it. This situation pisses me off. And that's okay. But it's important for me to remember that this really isn't about me. Yes, she's my child. Yes, this is immensely impacting my emotional and mental state. But this is ultimately Lolli's adventure and it began in May 2004 inside of my body. And on that day that she began, her father and I were chosen to be her hiking instructors. We were chosen to teach her the ways of the trail: how to climb up mountains, and climb down them; scale rocks, get through ice, quicksand, and rain. How to enjoy the amazing days of the adventure and navigate the horrible ones. We were chosen to help illuminate the safer paths, and help her to get through the scary nights. This is her adventure. And as terrified as I might be of the grizzly bear that is standing in front of us roaring and growling and showing us its teeth, I choose what I will teach her about how to react.

So while I have all of my feelings, fears, and experiences, I have to remember that the best gift I can give to my daughter is my love, strength, dedication, and comfort. The best I can do is wrap my arms around my frightened daughter and tell her it's all going to be okay. This bear will eventually go away and this long, long, long night will eventually end. And she will still be standing. Because I swear on my life, come hell or high water, that I will be there to pick my sweet child up and help her to keep standing in the face of this crippling nightmare. I will fight, I will scream, I will sing, and I will shine with all of my might until she believes, until she knows, that she handled this terror and the amazing days have returned.

blood

When your daughter's pediatrician talks about sending your daughter to an oncologist, you sort of have a mini panic attack. If you've seen enough death in your life, your mind goes to places that you don't want it to. For moments, your brain feels like it's standing on the ledge of a 800 story building and you have to sort of talk yourself down. She is fine. This is just precautionary. Don't worry until you know for certain there is something to worry about. Everything isn't cancer...

It's amazing how one blood test can take a mother from being thankful for her family's health, to something else. And it's all so silly really, because we don't have the results and I'm sure she'll be fine. She has to be. Right? People with cancer are "sick". She's fine. Just tired. But she's fine.

Last night, she, Chief and I were all playing. It's something we do often after the triplets have gone to bed. In this random moment, I grabbed her and I just couldn't let go. My mind went to the moments where she was tiny and I could keep her safe. Then it went to the images of people I have known who sat by their children's bedsides while they struggled for life.

She'll be fine. I know she will. But there is this tiny little piece of my brain whispering but what if she isn't?

Fire watching

Sometimes life can feel like a disaster. Sometimes I can feel like I'm hiding out in a bunker somewhere while a nuclear bomb explodes all over the people I love and care for. I'm helpless and hurting, but it's not really my crises. It's not my injury or my trauma. But I'm stuck standing here watching the fires burn and helpless to prevent them.

Needless to say, this has caused some emotional overload in my heart. It has been impacting me down to my core and deeply effecting my sleep, mood, and compassion. 

Yesterday I was talking to someone who is quickly becoming a dear friend of mine. The soon to be Mrs Godfather said one statement to me (after listening to me unload a lot of statements on her). She said: You have to pray and just let this go. It was spoken in the midst of a tangle of a thousand other words but it was right on. It was exactly the truth.

I don't like feeling helpless. I don't like having problems that I can't fix. I don't like watching people I love disintegrate, or pass away, or do foolish things.

However, in each of the scenarios of those people I love, what I am capable of doing is praying and sitting/standing/walking/being right beside them as they experience their agonies. I am capable of not ditching them in their crisis, or judging them for not doing things the way that I would. I am capable of loving them fiercely, passionately, desperately regardless of the outcomes. I am capable of showing them that the person beneath the struggle is beautiful and wonderful. I am capable of giving grace. 

I have to let go of my emotions, and just love. It's strange because that is so utterly simple to do, but yet so completely challenging to do when the bombs are going off and the fires are burning. 

So I've decided that today I'm going to listen to worship music and fill my heart with prayers. I'm going to fall against the strength of my beautiful husband and appreciate that he holds me up so that I can grab on to these beautiful people I love. Even if it's just squeezing them hard enough, while their worlds burns down and everything falls apart, so that they'll never forget they are not alone and they are loved.

Choices

It's too easy to forget the humanity in the people around us. It's too easy to look at our screaming, angry children and view it as a "power struggle" or as someone who's trying to get their way. It's too easy to view our spouses, parents, friends' failures with pinpoint accuracy all the while ignoring our own. It's too easy to expect people to live up to the pedestals that we've imagined for them, and forget that they're human beings.

Every day there is probably an internal list in Chief's mind of all the things he'd like me to do. I make mistakes constantly. I'm thoughtless and selfish and lazy. I am human. But what does Chief see when he looks at me? Does he see the sink full of dishes that I chose not to do, despite knowing he'd come home exhausted? No. Instead he chooses to see the way I smile when he walks in the room or the way my skin gets goosebumps every time he touches it. He puts his mind on the way I will sit and listen to his bad/great day and try to cheer him up or rejoice with him. He targets in on the way I cheer him on when he succeeds. He chooses to focus on my successes instead of my failures.

The same is true on the other end of the spectrum. This might surprise you to read, but Chief isn't very romantic. The man has deployed five times and I think I have received about 20 hand written letters TOTAL from all of them (I will remain mum on the amount of letters he's gotten from me). I have a list of things that I'd love for Chief to do every day that he doesn't. He's thoughtless, selfish and lazy. Just like me, he is human. But I choose what I will focus on. Chief doesn't decide the way that I will view him, I do. Chief doesn't "make" me feel the way I feel about him. I do. Chief's action or inaction does not dictate what I choose to ignore and build up. Every single day Chief doesn't do a bunch of things I wish he would, but every day Chief does a thousand things I adore.

The same is true with our children. Every day there are many things that I wish they would do, but don't. But every day there are also many things they do successfully/correctly/appropriately. As a parent, yes I have to train them, equip them and prepare them for adulthood. But as a parent it's important to put a bulls eye on their accomplishments (example: Lolli left her stuffed animals on the living room floor, Charchee picked them up for her and put them away. She wasn't asked to do it, she just did. That is an accomplishment. Charchee saw a problem, solved it, and carried on her way.).

My point for all of this is to remember that you choose what you will dwell on. You choose if you're going to adore your spouse for what they did right, or resent them for what they've failed to do the way you hoped. Your choose if you're going to focus on the positives or the negatives. But be warned, focusing on the negatives stifles love and growth and generally ends up creating a miserable environment for all involved.

God Father

Last night I was sitting here with Chief and I started to feel really sad. I started to miss you. It's really socially ridiculous that you've been gone for months and it just randomly hit me and hurt me. I think the awkwardness of our personalities made the goodbye situation uncomfortable. I think my overall discomfort with emotions and vulnerability made it easier to focus my attention on other things. And well, you know how I am about talking about my feelings, etc...

I just wanted to talk. Not that I have anything really particular to say, and the precious moments of time that you have available for phone calls should go to your love. I know I could write you a letter but what the hell would I write? I've only ever written love letters, or thank you notes, and frankly I'm not very good at writing "Hey Pal!" things... They always end up seeming so contrived or superficial even when they aren't.

People have been irritating me with their religious combatives lately. I know it's something that would equally irritate you. I miss that. I miss having our hours long tirades about the ridiculousness of people's religious view points. I miss having a sounding board to bounce off my own responses, and having someone to give me comebacks or to make me recognize the arguments that would be thrown back at me. I miss my religious-fighting-partner-in-crime...

Do you think we'll ever get talked out? I mean, will there ever come a time where we just run out of things to say? Maybe this is an aspect of friendship that I've never known. One in which, words don't really have to be spoken... One where things don't have to be explained or psychoanalyzed. Perhaps that's what's so bizarre. I don't have to say everything. You just get it. I don't have to justify or defend or mouth vomit a bunch of words to you. You don't have to say a bunch of reassuring things to me, because I know...

So all of this sappy, emotional/girly crap aside... I miss you. I hope you are well. Stay safe.

Parenting

Some days being a parent sucks. Today was one of those days. One of our children has a very feisty temper. Well, she just has a feisty everything really, but her temper can be especially trying on one's patience and kindness. For the past week or so, she's been pushing every single button she can. She has exhausted the gentleness of her father and me. Today was no different. She was especially awful today.

I had tapped out of parenting her by the evening. When I start clenching my fists it's time for me to say that I'm finished in that moment, and I had to tell her Dad that it was his turn. Chief took over and she was as ferocious as ever. In a beautiful moment, Chief came out of the girl's room, walked up to me and hugged me. He said "Help me to use kind words." I said "Who are you talking to because I'm so mad I can barely see straight!" He said "You and God. I think she needs kind words but I'm so angry with her I just want to scream at her."

It was powerful. It was also beautiful. There we were, two grown ups, being pushed and challenged by our five year old child. There he was coming to me for a regroup, and bringing us both to God for a collected mentality.

We snuggled for a few minutes and then off he went back to fight the good fight. When he went back in to her room, in the midst of her screaming tantrum, he walked up to her and hugged her. I know because I had an overwhelming sense that I should hug her myself and when I walked in I saw them hugging while he was talking to her. We all stood there hugging in her room, talking about this behavior.

The thing that is neat to me, is that the story didn't turn out like you might have imagined. It didn't all wrap up neatly before bed. She continued acting like a lunatic. She didn't all of a sudden start to behave and apologize for her rude actions. She didn't have any sort of revelation about respecting her parents and treating people with kindness. But we did. We were reminded that she is a person (it's extra neat that as I was writing that sentence, I was reminded of what our priest said today in church: missionary work is reaching out to people and connecting with them. It's not protests and agendas, but connecting with a person in a trusting and intimate way. Powerful stuff!). We were reminded that so are we. We were schooled on the notion of self control and kindness (notice I did not say surrendering, but rather kindness). We also were drawn closer to each other and we stood side-by-side tackling this challenge as one unit.

It's amazing to me how the behavior of our children can teach us so many lessons. In the heat of this outrageously challenging evening, Chief and I could have turned our emotions on each other. We could have become angry and yelled and screamed and acted just like our child. But because of Chief's wisdom... because of his self control, the entire tone of our conduct changed. That, my friends, is leadership. It is leadership and missionary work in the most excellent of ways.

Chief

There are times when this hideous aspect of my personality comes out and explodes all over the house. I hate it, every single time. It's upsetting and unsettling and I know it's a terrible example for my children.

Last night I was angry. And I unloaded this basket of anger and frustration and horrible words all over my husband. It was horrible and embarrassing. He, in his love and mercy, told me to go calm down. I didn't listen. I should have.

Finally, I listened to him and went to my room. When I went there, I knew he was upset with me. I knew I had earned his anger. I knew that I'd acted terribly. I also knew that I'd have to go apologize. Do you know what that man did!? Did he come in our room and demand an apology? No. Did he come in there and yell at me and point every single horrible thing I'd done? No. Did he stand in our living room and shout, or break things, or throw things? No. Did he slam the front door and take off to "show me" what I deserved? No. Here is what he did, dear reader: he cleaned the house. Do you know why? So that I could wake up in the morning and see it looking nice. He responded to all of my horrible behavior with love and mercy. He responded with giving me a gift.

I came out to the living room to apologize. My senses had returned and I had to go make things right. I was wrong and I knew it. I hurt the person I loved most in the whole world and I needed to make amends. I needed to reconcile. I am thankful that his forgiveness comes so quickly...

He teaches me so many lessons. His example and his behavior shows me how to be a better person. I have so much more than I could ever have deserved. He truly is amazing beyond my ability to express.

Hail and Farewells

Over the past few months I have been saying a lot of goodbyes. People have been moving on (and more are soon to follow) from this post. Our own family's possible departure was on, then off, then on, then off, then on again, now it's off (for now). My heart has had a lot of sadness, frustration, and agony as these goodbyes have come, funerals, and illnesses and I have certainly wallowed.

Today I am thankful. That might sound strange, but it's the truth. There's a song that has the lyrics: Out of the ashes beauty will rise, for we know spring is coming in the morning. Beauty will rise. Maybe I'm finally to spring (in my heart).

My dear friend AD (for whom I am MOST grateful for) reminded me (as is often needed...) that I needed to grieve. That I had a lot to grieve. It's beautiful to have people in your life who recognize your silly attempts to "stay strong" when they know you need to fall apart. It's even more beautiful that they have the balls to tell you that, and the heart to support you through it. Writing this simple paragraph is filling my eyes with tears of gratitude for which I can not adequately express. She's the greatest "pen pal" a gal could ask for.

I've also come to realize that the clearing out (not ending of friendships, but transformation of location of friendships), opens the doors for new friends to join in the circus. New connections can be formed, when our tight groups move away. New people whom you can support, and be supported by. New inside jokes, new kiddo connections, new bouts of laughter, and new experiences shared over cups of coffee (or tea. I really don't drink coffee, but it sounded better. HA!).

I am blessed. I am blessed with amazing friends. I am blessed with amazing Army wives that surround me with support, laughter, encouragement and prayer. I am blessed with Non Christian friends who accept my religiousness (and whom I hope know that I accept their lack of Jesus-ness) and still support my faith perspectives. I am blessed with people who are rooting for me, my children, and my husband to succeed. I am blessed with parents who give good advice, accept my emotional intensity, and pray for me constantly. I am blessed with children who are amazing individuals. I am blessed with women whom I admire, who allow me to pick their brains all the time for advice. I am blessed with new friendships where we share a mutual faith and pray for each other.

I am immensely blessed. I am thankful for this day where it is fresh in my heart and my mind. I am thankful for new beginnings and exciting adventures that are under foot.

Spring is here. :)

Chief

You and I have had one heck of a story, haven't we Chief? I mean, gosh, it's been over 10 years of this you-and-me saga. It's crazy to me that loving you is so freaking simple. Especially because it seems like everything else in my life is so freaking hard.

I am amazed by our similarities. You and I are virtually identical in almost all thought patterns, except complimentary in every necessary area. Jesus.

We work. And we're basket cases when we're not together. It's almost like one without the other is an unfinished sentence. We lose our clarity, our vulnerability, our safety, our light. We become just like the rest of the world, trapped in misery and pretending to be fine.

Thank you for being my warrior and my friend. Thank you for panicking when I'm sick and not taking it seriously. Thank you for showing me how much you love me by opening car doors, and constantly telling me I'm beautiful. Thank you for believing I'm beautiful, even though I don't. Thank you for accepting that I'm an asshole when I'm mad and I don't ever fight fair. Thank you for accepting me for who I am, instead of attempting to psychoanalyze my every thought, action, and belief. Thank you for trusting me with your heart, and being trustworthy with mine.

You are the joy of my day. I am beyond blessed. I am beyond grateful. I will love you 'til the end.

The Sisterhood

I hate Southern California. I really do. I hate it with an enormous passion and intensity that I can't even describe. Being there makes me feel ugly in parts of my soul that I can't wash out. Being there makes me miserable. People are rude. No one connects, really. Everything is a competition to look richer, thinner, more successful. It's all about image and status and humanity is only talked about in a complete BS "let's look like we really care" kind of way, but go right back to our selfish living. It's difficult to have compassion for someone who says they're struggling financially when they're carrying around a $500 purse. Maybe that makes me judgmental. Okay, not maybe. It does. And I hate that place because it draws out the old habits in me to think and act like that.

It is hard that my entire family lives there. And my relationship with my family is probably complex, in the best word. I have four sisters, some step brothers, and a half brother. I don't really have the best relationship with them, in the idea that we're all best friends and talk all the time. We don't really connect about very much, or have a lot in common, but that's okay. It's strange because they're the only people on this planet that I can absolutely not stand but at the exact same time, they're the only people I would drop everything for and come running, if I was needed. That's just sort of how it is. Your family is your family. It doesn't matter if you think alike, or live alike, or even understand each other. You will always have your sisters, you will always have the craziness that was your childhood, and you always have each others backs (at least when facing the world). 

My family has taught me a lot about love. They've probably taught me the most about grace. The hurts were deep and intense. It wasn't necessarily anyone's fault. It just was what it was. I was different. Not really in any group or category I grew up feeling like an outcast. I think they believed I didn't want to connect. Probably somewhere in the middle was the reality...

I know I've hurt them. I know I've made them feel unwanted. I know I haven't reached out as well as I should have, or worked as hard as I could to bridge the gaps in our differences. 

But I hope they always know that in spite of these things, I love them. I hope they understand that even though I suck at so many things and I hate the place that they live, I still like being around them. I hope they believe that even though I've midwesternized, forsaken my SoCal roots and can't stand pigheaded politics, I don't think they're idiots. I hope they always grasp that I would do anything I could for them, that I pray for them, and that I appreciate them, even if I don't say it. I hope they understand that I admire them, sometimes for the things that irritate me the most about them. 

So to the four people who understand things like Ani D lyrics, and what it means when we're writing them: 

hour follows hour like water in a river 

and from one to the next we don't know 
what each hour will deliver 
we just call it like we see it 
we call it out loud as we can 
and then afterwards we call it all water 
over the dam 

and maybe the moral high ground 
isn't as high as it seems 
maybe we are both good people 
who've done some bad things 
i just hope it was o.k., i know it wasn't perfect 
i hope in the end we can laugh and say 
it was all worth it 

i have had something to prove 
as long as i've had something that needs improving 
and you know that every time i move 
i make a woman's movement 
first you decide what you've gotta do 
then you go out and do it 
and maybe the most that we can do 
is just to see each other thru it

we make our own gravity 
to give weight to things 
and then things fall and they break 
and gravity sings 
we can only hold so much is what i figure 
we try and keep our eye on the big picture 
and the picture keeps getting bigger 

too much is how i love you 
but too well is how i know you 
i've got nothing to prove this time 
just something to show you 
i guess i just wanted you to see 
that it was all worth it to me

Electronically connected

Today we announced a day of family. It sounds weird to announce that because we are always a family, but it had to be done. The phones have to go away, and the games, television, distractions of life needed to be stopped. Today we announced that we would be the six of us, together as one, chillaxin. It has been interesting and awesome all at the same time.

It's amazing how quickly we can forget to spend time together. We become wrapped up in this illusion that if we're all in the same room then we're being together. It's a crazy lie that I will be honest, I succumbed to.

The truth is, there are many moments where I have to force myself to actively engage my children. Sit with them and talk. Ask them silly questions. Dance in the living room. Sing, as loud as we can, together. Look them in the eye and really pay attention to what they're communicating. 

Today has been a day dedicated to that. It's been great. It's also been challenging when my phone is sitting right there looking so lonely... It's pathetic that electronics have the ability to so completely corrupt my brain and my notions of human connectivity. But it's also really cool that today I was reminded that I need to be more available to the people in front of me and less "connected" to those far away.

Liberty

There are probably a thousand moments every day when I look across at him and say to myself I can't do this anymore. I can't say goodbye. I can't let him go. I can't handle the sleepless nights and the anxiety of not knowing... I can't handle the ache in my soul when his side of the bed is empty. I can't handle life without him. The truth is, there is no "life" without him. He is my life. To all my feminist friends that statement probably just sent them into a panic attack. But I say to you, there are those loves that come... Those once in a lifetime, soul wrenching, life encompassing loves, that are so rare, so unique, and so magical that they really do become your life. There is no reality of separating myself from him. There is no line where I can say "this is him and this is me." It doesn't exist. The supernatural beauty of God's powerful grace superimposed the two of us together and we are, together, one life.

I believe in finding one thing in your freaking universe and doing it so well that no one can stand to look at it. I believe in fighting, kicking, and screaming to be so good at it that no one can look at you and say "wow... not doing so well there..." I believe that this man, this "life" is my one astronomical thing. It's my one thing that no human being can say "Wow, she really botched that one." It's my one thing that I will go to my grave knowing I gave it all, I fought the fight, I surrendered my demons, and I loved.

He is completely imperfect. I am a basket case of insanity. And in the muck and the craziness of a thousand people who look at us as individuals and think to themselves wow... you're NOT awesome, the two of us joined forces and became amazing. My panic, my terror, my lifetime of nightmares and trauma, came down to the embrace of one man who was strong enough to be the man I needed. He snuck into my sleep and he fought off those demons that haunted me. He showed me what love, beauty, and self respect were. He stood up for me because he knows I'm too weak to defend myself. He protects me from so many people who take advantage of my kindness.

He and I are not very good at too many things. We're not good at being friends, or "sociable" people. We're not good at keeping in touch, or going out of our way for others. We're not good at superficiality, or ass kissing, or pomp and circumstance. We aren't good at playing along with party lines and saying what people want us to say, or being charming. But we know. how. to. love. each. other. We know how to do it in a way that no one else does. I know that when the kids are driving him crazy and he's so angry, sometimes the one sentence he needs to hear is "You're a good daddy, babe." He knows that when my feelings are all over the map I need to talk about it, be irrational, cry hysterically, and then I'll go back to normal. We both know how to make each other laugh, and we do it all the time. I know that he feels loved when I take care of him, defend him, fight for him. He knows the same about me.

And there are a thousand moments in every day when I think to myself I just don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to share him. I don't want them to get to take him away... Because when they take him away, they take me away, and send me off to a place that I don't understand and that I don't enjoy. The world gets dark, and everything feels bizarre.

There are a thousand other moments where I say to myself I'm in this for the long haul. I know what I have and I'm not going anywhere...

Knight in Shining Armor

I was recently asked what Chief brought to my life and I honestly somewhat struggled to answer that. In my head I was thinking what hasn't he brought to my life? and so I sort of fumbled out an answer about how he takes care of me. I didn't do Chief justice in my response. However, in the past 24 hours, a beautiful example has come to light and I want to document it for our kids, so I'm posting it here.

Last night, after being asleep for approximately 10 minutes (give or take) I woke up with a jolt. It was the kind of wake up where you're in so much pain you're gasping for breath and seeing stars. My back was. killing. me. I could barely move. I could barely breathe. I was panting (hyperventilating) and crying hysterically. It was agonizing.

What did Chief do? Did he give me a lecture about toughing up, and how much he needed sleep because he had to get up early? No. Did he get mad at me for waking him up with my hysterically sobbing and my agonizing plea of "help me" over and over again? No. He set to work. He dove into the mire and muck if his hysterical wife and he rode it out with me.

He got an ice pack. That made the pain worse. He rubbed it (so much so that his arms went numb from rubbing, but yet he kept on). He held my body in his lap and rocked me back and forth and side to side, for so many hours gently telling me "Try to fall asleep". He got bouncy balls so I could try rocking on there. We tried showers (worked the best, however, hot water eventually runs out...), everything. He begged me to go to the ER. He pleaded with me to take some Vicodin. I rejected both of those notions. I thought maybe this was part of the healing process and I was going to "tough it out." He accepted that, and continued on with me anyway. He prayed for me. He claimed Christ's healing on me. He did everything a knight in shining armor would do.

At 9am, I finally relented. I was in a sobbing mess of tears and I said to him "I need to go to the ER." He dressed me (literally. Couldn't move), essentially carried me to the car, called a sitter to watch the kids, and took me there. His 100% focus was on making sure I was okay. In the ER, he climbed in the bed to rock me back and forth because the pain was agonizing. He watched my blood pressure and pulse (which were both sky high from the pain). He helped me to the bathroom, change into the hospital gown, try to sleep, to drink water. He did it all. He went all day with not a single meal. No drop of food, because he wouldn't leave my "side until I know you're okay."

He made every aspect of this horrible experience better, because of who he is. He loved me beyond himself, his needs, his exhaustion, his hunger. He loved me more than anything else in the world. He loved me beautifully, perfectly, heavenly.

So when people ask me what Chief brings to my life, I really don't know how to answer simply. He brings everything to my life. He fights for me. He fights to make me better. He defends me. He honors me. He cherishes me. He loves me like every single freaking man should love their wives. It brings me to tears, really. Who am I that such a man as this would love me this way?

Thank you Chief for taking this huge ball of mess and making certain she didn't feel alone in this ordeal. You are everything to me, and so much more.