Days in Which There is Much Ado About Nothing

Note to Self:

Sometimes there will be days like today.  And weeks like this week.  And you'll just have to sit back and laugh, because if you don't, you'll cry.

There will be days that you will arrive late at preschool and debate whether or not to explain your lateness - for the 5th time in a row - to the teacher, who does not currently live in the reality of three-years-old twenty. four. seven. and who (even if she's lived it) can't possibly understand, because you really only understand for the few years you are living it and then after that you block it out or have too much perspective to remember how utterly impossible and exhausting it feels.  So you opt not to explain.

There will be moments when you'll look at the other preschool mom who also has a three year old but who is approximately 5 months farther along than you are and have to bite your tongue to keep from saying gleefully, "You look so much more uncomfortable than even me!"  Later, your heart will go out to the same woman whose three year old has a meltdown as she picks her up, thankful that all of your child's meltdowns have (so far) happened at home.

There will be those evenings that you will take your little boy to a friends' house for a party and in response to his wails and tears, will saunter up the stairs with a smile, because frankly, you've lost count how many times you've heard it this week.  You'll hug him and ask what happened.  He'll tell you he "bonked his toe" and then when you try to, you won't bat an eyelash when he doesn't let you kiss it and he says, "Don't take my owie away, Mama!!" through irrationality and tears.

You'll chastise him for disobedience when he won't stand up on the foot of said bonked toe, and then you'll balance his dead weight and your growing tummy, while he clings to you, yank at his underwear and jeans to get them up, raise your voice in the bathroom in attempt to convince him to - for the love of his mother - please stand up so that I can pull up your pants! - and then be thankful for the noise of the party outside.  When you finally manage this feat, you'll hoist him up onto the sink and sit him there for a minute.  Yes, I know you thought you'd never balance your child on a high surface, but I promise you.  You will.  Often.  After re-adjusting your disheveled clothes and noticing that any semblance of glamour that existed when you arrived at the party has since long gone, and frazzled and tired have taken its place.

You'll watch your son crawl "like a doggie, Mama!" under the legs of all of the guests and give thanks for the attendance of another family with young children, so that at least, the two entertain each other.  Will you notice that this is not just a make-believe game and that your three-year-old's refusal to leave the spot next to the adorable 6 year old little girl are actually just avoidance of putting any weight at all on that injured toe?  No, you won't.

But you start to take note, when he refuses to walk to the car, which means you get to carry him while you both wear winter coats to the car with all of your belongings - this really should be an Olympic sport.

After finally getting home, you'll oblige him by putting a band-aid on the foot that was not injured and fall gratefully into bed for a good night's rest.

So you think.

Actually this is just the beginning.  There will be those nights at midnight, that you'll wake to his sweet whimpers blubbering cries and you'll drag yourself out of unconsciousness to carry 30 pounds of dead weight back to bed with you.  Then you'll wrestle him calm him down and try to figure out where in tar-nation between his ankle and his toe is the actual injury, because he keeps changing his story and there is not a single bit of swelling or bruising whatsoever.

You'll start to put together the refusal to put weight on it with the apparent throbbing pain he's experiencing and wonder if a trip to the E.R. isn't in order.

At 2 a.m. you'll repeat this process and decide that a visit to the E.R. is indeed in order - at least to rule out a plethora of possibilities. He'll fall back asleep and you'll proceed to get dressed, pack the car, the stroller, toys, the laptop, medical cards, and snacks in preparation.  With brushed teeth, sort of fixed hair, and mostly dressed, you'll lay back down and figure that you should milk any last moments of sleep you can get before he wakes again.

Though he kicks your dressed self all night long, he doesn't actually wake up, so at 8 a.m. you finish the getting-dressed process, pacifying him with videos on your smart phone.

Oh yes.  I know you think you won't pacify him with videos.  And you think you won't hand over your phone.

Bahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

Ahem.

You'll take him to the gym childcare and watch him play with other kids - what better way to see if he forgets about his injury than with the distraction of friends?  He doesn't.  He crawls around for an hour in the playroom, dragging the poor injured foot behind and making not a single attempt to stand up.

You'll be convinced.  Surely, this is more than a bruise or a jammed toe. Off to Urgent Care you go, for a 3 hour adventure farce, by the end of which, all are looking at you and wondering WHY ON EARTH you came in in the first place.

There will be the nurse who condescendingly tells you to "next time give him ibuprofen and ice."  You'll think, "Well I would have, if I'd known where to ice! And since there was NO swelling or bruising, I prefer NOT to needlessly pump drugs through my baby's tiny liver, thankyouverymuch."  But instead you'll smile and nod.

There will be an off-key performance by you of a song about trusting in the Lord when one is afraid of the x-ray machine. There will be more balancing acts in the restroom because kiddo refuses to stand up in. Then the nurse will come in to explain that his foot is "just fine" and that there was a contusion on his outer toe.  "That's just a fancy word for a bruise," she'll say as sweetly as she can muster.  There will be the loud "I WANT MY STICKER!"  that your little cherub will holler at you as you pass the nurses station on your way out the door.  And when given a choice about which sticker?  He'll choose Cinderella, because "she's pretty." And you'll find yourself jealous of Cinderella.

Yes, there will be those days.  And when they come, just be ready to laugh at yourself.  And be ready with chocolate, Tylenol and a movie.

Love,

In Which I Shopped For A Bathing Suit For The First Time In Almost Ten Years

Yesterday, we decided to go swimming, which meant that this morning, just before heading to the pool, I survived my first post-baby bathing suit shopping trip.

Yes, I realize Danny's almost three and I'm just getting around to it. Hush.

Another mom of two in the dressing room was probably the most pivotal in helping me get over the shock of the sizes and styles I was choosing. The last bathing suit I bought was for my honeymoon and it was so tiny I wondered how that little bit of fabric could possibly cost $50. Then we moved, bought a house in a land-locked state 1200 miles west and 6000 feet up from the ocean I grew up going to, and we had Danny. Anyway, all she said was that having babies ruins bathing-suit-shopping for good and then she laughed and then she said I looked great.

Oh, I could have kissed her.

All in all, the trip took under an hour, even WITH my husband and son with me, and I found a suit that makes me feel like a million bucks, for only 30 bucks.

In my humble opinion, THAT is nothing short of miraculous.

My New Favorite Day of the Week

I've always been comfortable talking with almost anyone one-on-one, whether I've known them for a while or we've just met. There are few social situations that really stretch me. Some people call that being a loud-mouth. I like to think of it as being outgoing.

Anyway.

The elderly, however, is one group of people (I'm a little embarrassed to admit) among whom I've always felt a little ill at ease. I'm not sure why exactly. It doesn't make much sense. I just don't know what to say or how to act or if I'm seriously getting on their nerves.

My husband, on the other hand, has a gift. It's more than just your normal, being fine around the elderly just like any other person sort of thing. The man just warms up to anyone with wrinkles and becomes their best friend instantaneously. I mean it's love at first sight every time. He just knows how to connect with them and love on them so they feel important, special, and heard.  It's pretty amazing.

After we spent two weeks at my 91-year-old grandmother's house, I realized that I think my son has inherited the gift.  He and Grandma played as easily as old friends.  She would pull out the poker chips and he'd reorganize them make big mess.  He'd eye her walker and she'd take him for a ride in it.

When we returned from California I was listening to one of the sermons we'd missed while we were gone, and our pastor was talking about giving.  He was challenging us to give in any way we can.  Give monetarily.  Give  our service.  Give things.  Give our time.  He threw out a bunch of different suggestions, but only one stuck in my mind and I knew God was working on me.

"Show up at a nursing home and just hang out and talk with the residents.  They often get few visitors and little stimulation and even if they are in a great home, it's not their home and they long to connect with people."

This was the first suggestion I'd heard of that offered a way to minister with my son, instead of while my son was with a babysitter.  In fact, this was the first suggestion I'd heard in which my son would be the primary source of light and joy and enjoyment.  I mean, have you heard a two-year-old giggle!?  I knew immediately that it was a perfect fit.

Um, except that it was so far out of my comfort zone that I put it off for two weeks, and almost drove away when I finally had pulled our minivan up to the front door.  I'm not kidding.  I felt completely ridiculous, but I had to pep-talk my way through getting us dressed and out the door.  Then I had to pep-talk my way through walking us up the front walk of the assisted living home just six miles from my house. I even called from the car, just to make sure I wasn't walking into the wrong place.  Ahem.  Or something.

Rrrrrrring. 


"Dr.'s Touch Assisted Living.  This is April.  How may I help you?"

"Uh...  Is this an assisted living home?"

"Yes, dummy, that's what I just said. Yes, ma'am, it is."

"Oh, um, okay.  Well... my son and I would like to visit with your residents and hang out with them for a bit.  He's two and a half.  Would that be a blessing to them?"  Please say no.  Please say no.  


"Yes, sure.  Come on in."

"Okay.  ......See you in a minute."

Good grief, Lord, I'm a chicken.


We walked in.  The residents were eager to see who we were.  I was introduced to Bob and Jim.  We sat.  I said, "hello."  I really had no idea what to do or say, so I talked to Danny.

Then Chris came up the stairs.  She made a bee-line for us and introduced herself with a smile.  We joined her at the table and spent the next hour talking off and on and watching Danny play with his cars and the pieces of a Boggle game.  I learned about Chris's family and where they live.  I told Chris the Footprints story, since she had a bracelet that her daughter had given her with footprints and the phrase, "It was then that I carried you," on it.  Sometimes we didn't talk at all, and later I learned that's totally okay.  Another woman who is 99 years old came up the stairs and introduced herself and told us how terrible the news is these days.  Chris was disappointed at lasagna for lunch so I offered to eat hers for her.  She asked for my card and before I left, we agreed that next Monday we'll play checkers.

And then an extra gift:  The manager of the home arrived and introduced himself.  He played and joked with Danny until he was in a fit of laughter and he thanked us for coming.  He offered praise, encouragement, and suggestions on what we could do while we're there, and how to interact with the residents who are less responsive.

"When can you come again?" he asked.

"Every Monday," I said, with a breath.

"That's wonderful!!" he said.  And in that answer, I had all the encouragement I needed to come back.  I hugged Chris goodbye, and headed out with a smile.

WAY out of my comfort zone is sometimes the best place to be.  I can't wait until next Monday.

Meet My Alter Ego

Renee:  So yesterday I saw my doctor.  I adore my doctor.  Blessed, sweet, Jesus-loving, fantastic man that he is, is fixing me.  Yesterday I walked into his exam room, equipped with McDonald's and trains so that Danny could play and eat roll around on the dirty floor while I lay helpless on the exam table to keep him away from germs.  I explained to Dr. Baiza (at Academy Women's Health Care on E. Woodmen Road - in case any of you need an exceptional doctor to serve and listen to you) my plight of exhaustion, itching, weeks of being sick, and total frustration.  He suggested a non-drowsy over-the-counter anti-histamine and said I'd probably just have to ride it out, with a look of sympathy.  Then he took a glance at the welts on my back from scratching and 30 seconds later he was prescribing me dexamethasone. (It's a mild steroid that acts as an anti-inflammatory and immunosuppressant but for those of you who like all the medical details, you can read here.)

Whether this is actually an allergic reaction, or some other virus manifesting itself in the most bizarre of ways, is yet to be seen. But either way, it's amazing how energizing it can be to be heard and cared for.  I've unfortunately found that to be hard to find among medical care these days. It's also amazing how much energy this drug is giving me.  I was warned.  I just never expected Rena to show up and inhabit my body this morning.  Meet my alter ego:

Rena: Hi!  Good morning!  I feel fantastic!  I hope all of you do too!!  Even though I slept four hours last night and was up with Danny three times, I've already had a quiet time with the Lord, got up with Danny, made breakfast for him, breakfast for me (scrambled egg on toast - Renee usually grabs cereal or toast), cleaned the kitchen, ran the dish washer, played downstairs, cleaned up downstairs, played upstairs, and blogged!  And it's not even 9a.m.

Renee: It's a little unreal.  I also feel no aches or pains or general muscle sluggishness that I usually feel in the morning, even when I'm well.  I really love my doctor.

Rena:  So today we are packing a lunch, meeting with four customers, making 30 phone calls, getting all the chores done, working out, going to church, and taking play-breaks throughout the day!  Yeah!  We can DO IT!!

Renee: Uh...  we MAY want to tone it down a bit, just in case my immune system and my brain can't quite keep up with your speed, Rena.

Rena:  Uh, really!?  Because I feel great!  I think I'm about ten years old.  I can actually keep up and keep ahead of Danny!

Renee: Yes, it really is fantastic.  But yes, we really are going to have to consciously tone it down before you send me into cardiac arrest, Rena.

Rena?

Uh, Rena!

Rena: Uh huh?

Renee:  Why are you dancing at 8:45 in the morning?

Rena:  Uh...  I just felt like it.

Renee:  Right...  Have I mentioned to you that I love my doctor?  Did you know that in conversation yesterday (when's the last time you had a conversation with your doctor?), I learned that he puts no cap on the number of state-insured patients he receives?  Most doctors do.  It's a financial thing.  They get paid less from government insurance than they do from private insurance.  Yet Dr. Baiza welcomes one and all.  In his waiting room, you will find women from the nicest part of town, women from the middle part of town, and women who are homeless all sitting next next to each other.

Rena: Wow, that really IS exceptional!

Renee:  Yup.  He even serves prisoners.  Occasionally in the early morning (so as not to scare off the other patients) a woman will be escorted in in cuffs.  "We just take care of everyone," he said, "That's what we do.  I think God honors that."  Indeed He does.

This is the same doctor who helped care for Charmian and Jon's little boy, Pearce, when they found out he was terminally ill and they had been encouraged to abort since he wasn't going to live long past birth.  As a Christ-follower, Dr. Baiza was able to speak to them from a medical and a moral perspective.  God was truly honored that day.

So have I mentioned I love my doctor?

Rena:  So why don't you marry him, huh?

Renee:  Oh, shut up.

Alright, folks, it's time to get Danny, Rena, and myself into the shower and ready for our day.  This should be an interesting one!  Watch out, if you see us coming.  ;-)

A New Day

Five a.m. on a Saturday morning and I can't sleep, so tippy-toe I go, down the stairs, in stealth-mode so as not to disturb the two men in my life.  I feel like I'm coming out of a fog, or coming up for air after a long time under water.  December has been a rough month for us, and I've not had words to write.  I've battled to find joy and while I truly have loved (I always do) this season of lights and Christmas music and gifts and friends and fun, it's been a tougher December than most.

We have all been sick (two of us twice).  And not just runny-nose sick.  Whole-body-achy-needing-antibiotics-really-should've-just-stayed-in-bed-can't-function-sick.  This doesn't bode well for a household of the self-employed..  We don't have sick days or paid vacation.  If ya' don't work, ya' don't get paid.  It's even less fun when you can't call Grandma to come over and hang out with Danny because I can hardly drag myself downstairs to fix breakfast.  And work has been slow on top of that.

I don't know why this is all hard to admit.  As though we've somehow done something wrong.  But it is.

And the other half of my struggle to find joy is our collective home-sickness.  I told my family on several accounts that I have desperately wanted to be in three places simultaneously this Christmas.  Here we are home.  Colorado and cold and not nearly enough snow and our church are where our hearts live.  Yet in San Diego my sister is preparing to get married and there are dresses to buy and parties to plan and moments that sisters are meant to share and I wish I were closer to share them.  Families are gathering and a baby niece was born and another is on the way, and I've missed the gatherings and eating together.  In Costa Rica, another niece is walking and talking and zillions of cousins have married and are having children and my heart longs to laugh and love fully in another language.  Three places I long to be.  All at once.

So I've been in a fog.  Wanting to enjoy the season.  Wanting to give of my time and my resources and wanting to stretch out to others and write and share memories and pictures and create good traditions for our son who is two and a half and talking like there's no tomorrow.  Surely I've done some of that.  But certainly I've spent much more time than I wanted trying to get well - as though I could do that and God were not already working on it - and trying to catch up on work time lost and wishing I were spending my time differently than I am.

But today is a new day.  As the Lord spoke to me as I crept down the stairs - this is entering into a new season.  There is indeed more to do than ever, and with the close of Christmas and the beginning of a new year, God has miraculously provided, our work schedules are once again full and we are healthy and well.  (It occurs to me that this is only the second time in a year and a half that Alejandro has experienced a lull in work and I am extremely thankful for that.)  We have never lacked for anything we need and God grows faith in our hearts as He teaches us to trust in His provision.

There have been many good memories, and loads of great pictures to share.  I am looking forward to the creative process of sharing those with you.  I love new beginnings.  I love breaks and vacations and a rest from work, but I love just as much the getting-back-to-routine and schedule and the daily Kingdom work set before me.  Alejandro has joined me on the couch and I hear my other little man stirring upstairs.  So I think it's time to enjoy early morning breakfast and snuggles and playing Angry Birds and Blast Monkey on our phones together.  This is, after all, the important stuff.

Happy New Year everybody.  Here's to fresh starts.

Love,

The "S" Word

My sister is getting married in February so she's doing all kinds of reflection and spiritual preparation these days.  I can't even begin to articulate how much her daily texts with scripture and questions regarding spiritual matters encourage me and bless me.  I am SOOOOOO proud of her.  (I love you, Lisa!)

Anyhow, she recently asked me a question about the "S" word.  No, not the four-letter word that I taught her to say when she was two years old.  The ten-letter word that has become totally taboo.  I'm talking about submission.  Biblical submission within marriage, to be specific.  (I'm talking to the wives today.) This is a SUPER hard topic to tackle, but let me give it a shot.

I think there are two main reasons we get so hung up and stuck on this passage and have so much trouble with it.  First is the fact that this passage is talking about an ideal situation, and we live in a fallen world.  The passage presents a scenario of how it's supposed to be, but we read it through the filter of "I'm supposed to do this even though my husband is failing me miserably."  We tend to read it imagining the times when our husband has failed us miserably, rather than reading it and imagining the moments of blissful romance when we would fall and worship the feet of our lover.

The second problem is semantics.  We read the words submit and respect (which reminds us of archaic female oppression) and love (which our culture equates with sex).  Therefore, we read this passage and we hear this: "Wives, allow yourselves to be walked on and oppressed by your selfish husbands, and husbands, have all the sex you want with your wives, occasionally throwing in a little romance if it suits you, and while you're at it, make all the decisions without taking in her opinion to account and go ahead and use Christianity as your scape-goat."

This interpretation could not be further from what was originally intended.  May I suggest something?  Let's take a look at the theoretical scenario that this passage presents as an ideal and let's take the semantics out of it.  What if we use the word serve?  Here's why I chose the word serve.  Serve makes me think of the words humility, sacrifice, help, and for the sake of the other.  These are all things that Christ modeled in his life on this earth (which is precisely the comparison that Paul is making in this passage).  Secondly, don't we all love to be served?  When someone serves us food, he does it for no gain of his own, but for the benefit of those he serves.  When I serve my son, I do what's best for him with gentle affection, firm consistency and a protective wisdom.  Service usually involves self-sacrifice but should never involve self-deprecation.

Alright, with those things in mind, let's read Ephesians 5:22 - 33 again.  (Emphases, parentheses and strike-throughs are mine.)

Wives, submit yourselves to serving your own husbands as you do to the Lord. (We serve the Lord because we love him and it brings us joy and Him glory, yes?) For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. (Here, Paul establishes the comparison between marriage and the Christ-Church relationship.) Now as the church (that's us believers) submits to serving Christ, so also wives should submit to serving their husbands in everything. (That sounds a little more like what I signed up to do on my wedding day... bless, love, give, support, encourage, help, and serve my husband in all he does. And of course, we signed up to do this, knowing that the man we agreed to marry is someone of integrity and character who we believed would choose to make Christ-honoring decisions.  We knew he wouldn't be perfect at this, but we figured he'd be good enough at it that we could commit to marrying him and it'd be a good deal.  Plus, we figured that since he has Christ in him, God would help keep him on the right path too.  In fact, we were depending on that.**)

(Now his part.) Husbands, love serve your wives, just as Christ loved served the church and gave himself up for her... In this same way, husbands ought to love serve their wives as their own bodies. He who loves serves his wife loves serves himself. (Hmm... so when he treats me right, it benefits him.  Makes sense.  It makes me want to love him back, bless him back, serve him back, yes?) After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church— for we are members of his body. “For this reason (what reason? to serve his wive as his own body!) a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.” This is a profound mystery— (He means the mystery of the unity of Christ and the church) but I am talking about Christ and the church (see?). However, each one of you also must love serve his wife as he loves serves himself, and the wife must respect serve her husband.

So in theory, we have two people, united in Jesus' Love, who have endeavored to do all they can to serve the other.  Doesn't that sound like a wonderful situation!?  Sign me up!

In actuality, though, there are times when I really just want to throw a plate at his head.

Ahem.

Yeah, I know what you are thinking.  "Uh... what then, oh you so perfect and holy??"  That's when the rubber meets the road.  That's when it gets hard.  That's when we think back to our wedding day and realize we had no idea what we were getting into - and sometimes that's good, or we might not have signed up in the first place.  That's when we have to take a deep breath and trust in God's plan for our lives despite the fact that we cannot understand what in tar-nation has gotten into the thick skull of the man across the room.  That's when we have to choose to be the bigger man woman and serve him anyway.**

And that, my friends, is where my expertise ends (ha! If indeed it ever had begun).  That is the hardest thing of all.  That's when I realize that marriage truly was to make me holy, not happy.  In those moments of anger, it takes all my strength to set my pride aside and actually follow through with the promise to treat him as I would want to be treated. I fail often.  And then it takes all my strength to admit my wrong and ask forgiveness.

I was laughing to myself last night - which happened to be a wonderfully sweet night for my husband and I - as I thought about my sister's questions and my own wedding vows.  I decided that this might be the vows I say if we ever decide to renew them:

I, Renee, take you, Alejandro, to be my lawfully wedded husband.  I promise to serve you, help you and support you even when I don't like what you are doing.  I promise you will be mine and I will be yours, from this day forward, for better (when we are getting along great and all is peachy-keen), or for worse (when tragedy strikes, when I think you're being insensitive and selfish), for richer (when we have savings, a brand new house, two great cars and the ability to eat out every night), for poorer (when we have to decide between your new drill and my new touch phone), in sickness and in health (and energy and exhaustion and good moods and PMS and twenty-year-old-bodies-with-six-packs and saggy-post-breastfeeding-pudgy-overweight-bodies and smiles and tears and conquer-the-world-moments and totally-overwhelmed-dirty-hair-and-pimples-and-screaming-children-moments), until we're old and wrinkly and have white hair and dentures and we know each other so well we start to look like each other and death do us part.

Not exactly romantic.  But it made me laugh!

The mystery of marriage is this...  when we do endeavor to submit to serve our husbands, even if they don't come around right away, they usually do later.  And even if they don't, we find that in the process, Christ changes our hearts and teaches us more about how He loves us in our ugliness.  We get the whole plank-versus-speck thing and realize the magnitude of what Christ did on the cross for us.  And if for no other reason, understanding Christ's love better makes serving and submission to our imperfect husbands totally worth it.



**This of course, does NOT apply to situations in which the husband doesn't know Christ and/or the husband acts in a way that DOESN'T honor Christ.  Abuse and adultery are manifestations of this, and the Bible allows for Godly wives to be released from their vows in these situations.  See Matthew 5:32 and Matthew 19.

Well put, Tricia. I couldn't have said it better myself.

What every woman wishes her husband knew.

(And I promise I'll be back shortly with a post not stolen from another blog.)

On Being a Single Mom and the Last 48 Hours

The last 48 hours have been all about recuperation, rest, settling down, and getting better.

Half an hour after Alejandro and our dog, Toby, pulled into our driveway Saturday afternoon, we loaded ourselves into the car with snacks, blankets and pj's, prepared for a long evening and headed to Memorial Urgent Care. Danny had a persisting medium grade fever and was more lethargic than I've ever seen him. Kiddo's pretty high energy and all he wanted to do was sleep and cuddle.

At urgent care we ruled out RSV and strep, so now we're just waiting this thing out. Since we were there, I went ahead and checked in, too, to see if they could diagnose a sinus infection. They couldn't. At least not definitively. They did, however, send me home with a prescription for antibiotics, which should help, whether it turns out to be sinus or dental or both. Anyhow, Danny woke up yesterday without a fever, and I declared on Twitter that he was fine and that it must've been teething, but then yesterday afternoon, the fever came back and along with it, a nasty case of diarrhea.

So, our first full day together? Pajamas, church livestreamed online, movies, pedialyte, a few intermingled errands, and diapers. Lots and lots of diapers.

Alejandro and I did manage to get some quality time together after Danny went to bed, though. ;) And although having a sick one is no fun, it was sweet to be together. Now, Alejandro's outside working in the garage, Danny's asleep in my arms and I sit writing to you all from my phone.

The last 48 hours have been a mix of sweet and struggle, but it's getting better by the minute.

As I now attempt to undo everything I changed and adjusted in order to survive and thrive while Alejandro was away, I've been thinking about how I made it through two and a half months without him and how I did  pretty well (if I do say so myself). I want to share a few pieces of advice for women who suddenly find themselves as a single mom, either temporarily or permanently.

Before I share, though, I want to say this: I offer this advice with the utmost humility. I am certainly not any kind of expert. These are just a few things that made a big difference for me. Also, I had the unique opportunity to figure this stuff out WITHOUT the emotional trauma that most women who are suddenly single moms experience. I did not have to grieve the death of my husband. He did not remove his love from my life. I was not facing divorce or financial ruin. I wasn't worried about his injury or death on the battle lines. We got to visit several times while he was away and we were able to chat via phone or skype daily. I got to do this growing experience in the most ideal circumstances.

That said, here are six things that really helped me make it through, because despite all of that, it was NOT always easy.  Come to think of it, it would do me well to keep doing these six things, even now that he is home.  Anyhow, it's not by any means an exhaustive list, but I hope it helps.

1. Accept help.

I suck at accepting help. It took a total fall apart moment an hour and a half of crying and a stern lecture from my good friend Melissa before I quit resisting help.  All of the strongest godly leaders I know really struggle to ask for help.  Why is that?  For whatever reason, it seems to be true.  In any case, once I allowed the body of Christ to do what it's meant to do in my life, and step in and a lend hand, I struggled much less.  Amazing how that works.

2. Have a "Me day."

With all the things to do daily, taking time out for myself seemed lowest on the totem pole of priorities, but the truth is that if I went too long without some time to get away and have some time to myself, I was a worse mom anyway. You can't pour out from an empty bucket and a car can't drive with an empty tank of gas.  It's important to fill your own bucket and make sure your gas tank doesn't get to empty.

3. Get an Ergo.

Or whatever your favorite baby-carrier of choice is.  Mine is my Ergo.  I can't even tell you how many times this has saved me.  When Danny was sick and wouldn't let me put him down, I put him on my back and he hung out there while I worked in the kitchen.  When grocery shopping was only half done but Danny was DONE sitting in the shopping cart, I put him in the Ergo.  A good baby carrier is worth its weight in gold.

4.  Have a schedule and stop working when the schedule says to.

Moms and Mary Kay beauty consultants have no end to the amount of work they can get done, so it doesn't matter how early you start or how late you go, there will always be more to do.  So make a schedule.  A reasonable one.  Then follow it.  And STOP at the end of the day, and go to bed when it says to.  Simple enough, but doing this made a world of a difference in my ability to carry on the pace for long periods of time.  This is a marathon, not a sprint.  Pace yourself.

5.  As you figure this thing out, let some stuff go.

Something's gotta give, so once you figure out what is on the bottom of the totem pole, let it go and don't sweat it.  I'm not so great at this either.  (That's the understatement of the year.) For me, this time it was my diet and exercise.  There are just only so many things I can do well.  This time the diet and exercise was not one of them.  There will come a time when you'll be able to tackle whatever that thing is for you, but for now, cut yourself some slack and just let it go.

6.  Have a sanctuary.

And go to it.  Often.

How I'm Really Doing

Alternately titled, "I'm ok.  I'm not ok."

I swear I've written this before.  And yet, no matter how I've tried, I don't seem to be able to get it quite right.

The other day a good friend asked me how I was really doing and I admitted to her that I haven't felt like I can really write how I'm actually doing.  Partly that's because if I get too gloomy, my friends and family freak out.  (That's probably good, it keeps me positive.)  And partly that's because it's just plain hard to articulate.  And also, because I know there are women out there who read this blog (some who I know and others I don't) who can't actually look forward to their husbands coming home anytime soon.

A million times a day, every day, I'm thriving.  And also a million times a day, every day I'm completely and totally at the end of myself.  And sometimes those two things happen in the same minute, one right after the other.

On Friday when I caught myself cutting small chunks of butter, rolling them in sugar and popping them into my mouth, I thought, "I think this may mean I've hit a wall."

Today I called Alejandro and (through tears) said, "I just need to talk to someone over the age of two for a few minutes."  He said, "Um... ok."  And then didn't know what else to say.  I was completely unable to articulate the fact that I needed him to carry the conversation for me, so I just let him go.  Then I called my mom and said the same thing.  She laughed hysterically, which got me crying and laughing at the same time.  It was good.  ;-)

I've been hesitant to say it, but we think Alejandro will be coming home next weekend.  I haven't wanted to say, because every time we have thought we had a date since he left the first week of January, he'd get another job, which we were both simultaneously glad and sad about at the same time.  The next-weekend date could still change.  But for now we're both really excited about it, to say the least.

Danny is done being sick, except for some left-over sinus congestions.  (Read endlessly flowing snot.) He's been teething for longer than I can remember and eight teeth (read an unholy amount of teeth to come in at once) are making their way into his mouth.  I think the worst is behind us, but it's hard to say.  Three eye teeth have yet to cut through and I think there's still a molar under gums as well.

Part of what has not been fun is that Danny's stools have been excessively loose for longer than I can remember as well.  I always thought it was part of teething (and who knows, maybe it is) but it went on so long that I began to suspect an allergy.  I took all lactose out of his diet a week ago.  The bad news is his stools didn't improve.  The good news is he's not lactose intolerant.  I have a love affair with cheese and all things dairy, so that's good.  I even took a hiatus from cloth diapers swishing my hands in the toilet after every loose stool for a week.  And I love my cloth diapers, so that says a lot.  Next step?  Adding lactose back in and observing changes, keeping up the food and diaper log I started a week ago, and then deciding.  Eliminating wheat or gluten from his diet seems the next obvious step.  That or waiting until all the teeth are in and then seeing what happens.

So how am I really doing?  Thriving.  And drowning.  At the same time.  I'm worn down, but we're gonna make it through this.  Not only are we gonna make it through this, we're gonna be stronger for it.  (I am so very thankful for how God has blessed and improved our communication through this.)

Thank you all for praying and calling and inviting and encouraging and letting me vent even when there are others in such a situation which leaves me no room to complain.  It means more to me than I can explain.

How am I really doing?  I'm doing just fine.  Thanks.

Love,

Conversations

Danny holding up his bowl of yogurt and rice cereal to me with both hands: "Ma?!"

Me with a giggle: "More? Yes!"

***

Pediatric urgent care doctor: "So he doesn't have any infections or the flu. I'd suggest removing lactose from his diet for a bit to help regulate his bowel movements."

Me: "Okay. Well that's about half his diet. Sigh. No milk. No cheese."

Doctor: "No milk but cheese is ok."

Me: "Why is cheese ok?"

Doctor: "Remember curds and whey? The curds are fine. It's the whey that has the lactose in it. Cheese will help firm things up."

Me in my head: "No I don't remember curds and whey. YOU were born in 1900, not me. I have never in my life churned milk."

Me to him in real life: Blank stare. "Um, ok, sure. Cheese, no milk."

***

Danny: Hands his bowl to me.

Me: Taking his bowl, "All done?"

Danny: Hands me his spoon.

Me: "Honey, are you all done?"

Danny: "Ta-do-do"

Me: "Danny are you ALL DONE?? Say 'todo todo'."

Danny: Signing, "TO-DO-DO-DO-DO-DO!!"

Me: "Oh!"

***

Danny: "Mama!"

Me: "That's me!"

Danny towards the window: "Mamamamamamamamama..."

Me: "I'M Mama, honey."

Danny: "MAMA!!"

Me: Sigh.

***

Me in a restaurant to Danny: "Here, would you like this?"

Danny: "No!"

Alejandro to Danny: "Here, have some crayons."

Danny: Throws a crayon.

Me: "It's not ok to throw," taking away the other crayons.

Danny: At the top of his lungs, reminiscent of a dramatic movie scene, "NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

Alejandro and me: Burying our faces in our hands to snuffle laughter.

***

Man in the grocery store to his toddler: "That is ENOUGH!"

Me to the man: "We were just having that same conversation."

No Complaining

I am on overload.  I have simply hit my limit on the number of things my brain can process today.

This week I have done really well.  I called a friend last night and she said I was totally hyper and really "up."  She was right.  I totally was!  And I am still content.  Just fried.  I truly LOVE working.  I realize some of you are gagging in your mouths every time I post something about how much I love what I do, but I am just so thankful for it and I wish everyone could experience it.  I think it's how God designed life to be.  For us to truly LOVE what we do.

Alejandro sent me this picture of himself yesterday.

Wait, wait...  Here you go.  

Yeah.  So, now you know he's actually painting.  :)  

And since I'm on overload... I'll share a post I started the other night and never actually put up:  

No Complaining

I was listening to the Mary Kay Hotline yesterday (a motivational phone recording changed daily) and my business mentor was talking about the idea of complaining. She is reading, "The Success Principles," by Jack Canfield (someone who definitely lives big) and one particular section of the book talked about how we only complain about what we have the power of changing. He drove the point home with the example of gravity. No one complains about gravity because there's nothing we can do about changing it. His point was that we should never complain because anything we might be complaining about is something within our power to do something about. Even if the only thing we choose to do is change our attitude.

I was thinking about this, and I think that from the perspective of someone who knows Christ, there are two situations we complain about. (1) There is the situation we either have no control over, such as the death of a family member, a health condition, or financial loss of a job due to the economy, etc. I think these are situations we are dealt and which we experience because we live in a fallen world and which God most definitely WILL work through in our lives. If we operate under the understanding that God is in control, that He holds us in His hands and that nothing and no one can separate us from His love, then there is no reason to complain. Indeed, to complain is to say, "God I reject this situation that you have allowed me to be in for the shaping of my spirit." It is a rejection of His perfect will for our lives.

I'll be the first to admit that many situations He has chosen to work through in my life were NOT what I would have chosen, but in hind-sight I can see the way He wove His perfect plan for my life through that situation and even used it to build His Kingdom in the after-math. This separation due to my husband's work is a prime example.

(2) Then there are situations that we complain about that we have every ability in the world to change, but we choose not to. An example is someone who complains about living paycheck to paycheck but who won't go out and get another job. They may even have a noble reason for not wanting to work, like being a stay-at-home mom, but if this is the case, they still have no right to complain. It is their choice, and they wish to stay in that situation. Another example is someone who complains about being in an unhappy marriage. They whine and whine, but they won't leave, nor will they do the work to improve their marriage. (I am not for leaving marriages for any reason other than those stipulated in the Bible, but that gives us no right to complain about the calling God has given us in our marriages. And yes, your spouse IS your calling.)

Now I'll be the first to admit that I'm a complainer. I've even complained on this blog from time to time. (No, really?!) That's why this principle of Mr. Canfield's convicted me so much.  Either change my attitude or change my actions.  But either way, zip it.  No more complaining.

And ya'll can hold me to that the next time I whine on this blog.  ;-)

How I'm Really Doing

It has been brought to my attention that perhaps I'm not really representing myself well here on my blog this week. That is, I think I've given you all the impression that I'm struggling a bit more than I am. Not to say that being without my husband is a breeze, and of course I miss him like crazy (I'm kind of supposed to), but truly, Danny and I are doing just fine.

Oh sure, there are the daily moments when I want to pull my hair out, but that happens even when he is home. Plus, you know, I'm a girl. So, there's that whole raging hormones thing. See...

8am - Hit the snooze bar for the 27th time. Rolled over and pep-talked myself out of bed while promising myself I wouldn't stay up that late talking to Alejandro again tonight.

9am - Finished eating breakfast with Danny and making a note of the errands I wanted to run. Started the crock-pot dinner and diaper laundry. Swore to myself I'm not going one more day trying to keep Danny out of the cupboards. Added a stop at Target for child safety locks to my list.

10am - Put Danny in his crib for book time while I took a shower. Prayed through feeling totally overwhelmed and exhausted.

11am - Drove from errand number 2 to Target while enjoying the sunny day, white snow and warm car. Sang praise songs.

12pm - Met a mom in Target with a 3 year old and a 7 month old looking frazzled. Counted my blessings and offered to pamper her with a facial. Made a new friend.

1pm - Finished lunch and took Danny upstairs for a nap. Attemped to install the child safety locks without a drill. Called Alejandro in utter frustration. Called a friend who had a drill. He said he'd loan it to me.

2pm - Stripped the bed and remade it. Got computer work and business calls made. Felt better having been productive.

3pm - Friend came over with the drill. I learned how to use it and installed the child safety locks.

4pm - Headed upstairs feeling energized and with a huge sense of satisfaction to get Danny up from his nap. He had snack while I vaccumed and mopped the floors. Finished diaper laundry.

5pm - Laid on the floor of Danny's room while he climbed on me and played. Went downstairs for dinner.

6pm - Gave up on (1) trying to get Danny to eat more and (2) hoping he's not getting sick. Wiped the food and snot from his face. Put him in the bath tub.

7pm - Sat on the toilet, writing this post from my phone while Danny plays in the bath.  Drained the water, refilled the tub and got in with him.  Enjoyed a bubble bath.

8pm - Danny's in bed, I'm listening to Christmas music (yes, in January) on Pandora, and I'm about to make hot chocolate and work on Danny's 18-months-old post.

So you see? There's really no need to worry. I'm just an emotional gal with her ups and downs who likes to share them all with you. (You're welcome.) We're alright. Today was actually a phenomenally productive. And yes, I pack every day like this. It's just kind of how I roll.

Oh, and plus, next weekend Danny and I are meeting Alejandro and lots of family in Albuquerque!  So it won't be such a long time without seeing him after all.  Yay!

Freedom

This post has been composing itself in my mind for the past few days and I think if I don't write it down it might not get written.  Plus, I'm afraid that anyone new here might look at my Christmas post and get scared away forever.  I promise, my posts are never that long. 

Anyway, back to freedom. 

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (Galations 5:1)

So often as Christians, I think we allow ourselves to be bogged down in slavery over the tiniest things without even realizing it.  Freedom from this type of mental or emotional slavery has been a theme in the conversations between my mentor and I for the last several months.  Galations 5:1 is in my bathroom shower and every day I'm reminded of a new way it applies to me. 

As hot water runs down my back the Enemy would try to whisper words in my mind of past failures and mistakes.  It is for freedom Christ has set me free.  My past is over and done.  It has no power over me.  I can begin to be free in this moment, living new thoughts and actions today by the power of the Holy Spirit.  I am clean and forgiven, fully healed, free by the blood of the Lamb. 

I stare at my to-do list that is longer than any one human could complete in a whole week and begin to feel overwhelmed by the impossibility of it all.  It is for freedom Christ calls me to follow Him.  It is only what He calls me to that I am asked to complete each day.  Consistency and peace in my home are achieved by the simple choice of the right activities today.  The rest may fall by the wayside and I am free to release them, knowing that I was never meant to be in bondage to an impossible list. 

A stranger's thoughtless political comment about people who choose this course of action or that when faced with financial crisis send me reeling in anger and muddling in self-righteous stress about my own choices.  It is for freedom Christ died for us.  The only person's approval who I need is my Lord Jesus Christ and I already have it.  I need not concern myself with other peoples' ill-informed and poorly directed opinions.

My husband's innocent, but impatient comment leaves me feeling alone and insulted and everything I've learned about giving him the benefit of the doubt flies out my right ear as the desire to rant and rave penetrates my heart.  It is for freedom Christ came into my life.  The only reason a situation might emotionally control me is if I allow it to.  I have the freedom to choose my reaction to respond in kind or to let the issue rest.  I can decide to be right or I can decide to be at peace, knowing he probably didn't mean it anyway, but either way, it is my choice. 

The illustrations are endless and the triviality of many of the examples are ridiculous.  Yet, the incredible peace that comes with the realization that it is for freedom that Christ came to Earth, died for us, and set us free, is more far-reaching than any of us will realize in this life time. I am convinced that when I get to heaven, I'm going to look back at my life and just marvel at all the times I got my undies all up in a bunch over something Christ died to set me free from two thousand years ago.  It sort of relates to my post about frogs. 

In simpler words, it's just not worth the worry.  There are greater battles to fight - ones that are really worthy of our energy.  There are bigger causes to get behind.  There are more important ways to spend our energy.  And we are just more powerful than that.**

Is there an area of your life or your thoughts that you are enslaved to?  Ask Him to reveal to you the Truth of the matter and to set you free. 

Do you feel like your whole life is wrapped up in bondage and the whole God-thing sounds just like more of that?  Oh, my friend, how I wish for you to taste and know the freedom that I have.  Ask Him to show you what that looks and feels like.  He is a gentleman.  He'll never force your hand.  He is loving and gracious and He longs for the opportunity to show you Truth that will Set. You. Free. 


With Love and Hope,



**By this, I mean that those of us who know Christ possess within us the power of the Creator of the Earth to be conquerers of our thoughts and emotions. 

Strike That

I don't think we're in Kansas California anymore, Toto Danny. 

I used to watch the rain this way in San Diego.  That's because it only rained about one and a half times per year.  It never ceases to amaze me how the world outside becomes a winter wonderland overnight. 

Yesterday, as I was hoping and not hoping for snow (hoping because, well, it's December, and not hoping because it means Alejandro can work more) I was pondering the things I say to Danny God says to me.  

No you can't have that right now. Because it's not time yet. I'll let you have it in a little bit when this is done.

(As he's throwing a fit.) I know it's hard to understand.

Don't play with that. It's dangerous.

I love you. Come here and we'll fix it together.

You're my favorite.

No, right now it's time to clean up, not get it all out.

Honey, tell me with your words. I can only help you if you TELL me what you want.

Yesssss! Great choice!

Why

Today is a day I don't understand.  Father, when we wage war against the Enemy in prayer and we endeavor to fight against every fleshly temptation that we have, why, oh why does it sometimes turn out like this?

My heart is aching for a certain friend of mine.  She knows who she is.  Actually, it's aching for several certain friends of mine. 

If you know how to pray for a situation and a someone without knowing who or what it is, please do that. 

I don't understand why good people who work so hard to do the right thing are rewarded with more pain.  I don't understand why babies are lost.  Why marriages break apart.  Why the hard working man loses his job.  Why one who does the most good gets the most sick and is hindered by so many obstacles.  Lord, why why why? 

I know the answer, but my heart doesn't understand it.  It doesn't WANT to understand it. 

Why is it that sometimes when we fall on our faces and seek You with all we know how and everything we are, why are you still sometimes silent?  Why is your answer still sometimes "no"? 

My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Why are you so far away when I groan for help?
Every day I call to you, my God, but you do not answer.
Every night you hear my voice, but I find no relief.

Yet you are holy,
enthroned on the praises of Israel.
Our ancestors trusted in you,
and you rescued them.
They cried out to you and were saved.
They trusted in you and were never disgraced.
                                  Psalm 22:1-5

Grocery Shopping the Day Before Thanksgiving

Well, the day-before-a-huge-holiday-frenzy is winding down in the Chinchilla Porras household.  And actually, I'd say we came out ok! 

We shop for groceries two weeks at a time without fail, come hell or high water, and it's always on a Wednesday.  That's because Wednesdays are the days that our favorite farmers market has their produce discounted even more than usual.  So.... you guessed it ...today was grocery shopping day!  At 4 p.m. (no, we apparently could not have chosen an earlier hour in the day) we braved our way into Walmart with a long list of groceries and by some miracle of the Almighty, we made it home only two and a half hours later without even getting mad!  We even had a last-minute change of recipe, a quick call to a friend to get her dinner-roll recipe, because well... they're the best!  ...and stopped to give a new mom a mini Ergo Baby Carrier 101 lesson right there in the produce aisle.  Her 4-week-old had only his precious nose and eyes exposed and was SO TINY!  (Can we say newborn envy!?) 

We were grabbing mushrooms, I think, when a sweet new mom, her mom, and her teensy little one came our way.  I had Danny on my front in the Ergo carrier.  We've discovered this is the quickest way we can whip through the store.  I hold the kiddo and the pre-printed grocery list with a pen, and Alejandro drives the cart with my purse/diaper-bag/is-there-a-difference? and all the groceries piled on top.  Then we go aisle by aisle and Alejandro practices his race-cart skills while tossing in items.  I practice my drill-sergeant skills and order which item to grab next.  It's a great system!  Add to that tickle sessions by the dairy section and cat-and-mouse chasing games with each other down the aisles with our giggly toddler and it becomes great fun!  Anyway, with the Ergo on my front, I was about twice the size I usually am so I thought the dear sweet new mama was trying to get by.  To my surprise, she actually wanted to ask me if I liked my Ergo.  I gushed that I did and showed off some of the features. 

Speaking of distractions (weren't we?), I have discovered recently that I am very much like the dog in Up.  You know, "Up," the kids' movie?  Well, if you don't, you should.  Go rent it.  Right now.  I'm serious.  Go. 

It's one of our favorites.  It's one of my favorites because of how the dog yells SQUIRREL!! mid-thought and immediately takes off running in a different direction.  It's sort of how my brain works.  I get going on one thought and my mouth can't catch up, so mid-sentence I start another thought and another sentence.  Which I may or may not finish. 

It doesn't make for very good public speaking.  Ahem.  Which is bad, because I do that a lot.  Public speaking I mean.  Well, and having squirrel! moments.  Oh, you get my point. 

Um, but what was I talking about? 

Oh yes! Our trip to the grocery store.  It was great fun!  Or at least it was a great adventure. 

So after we met the nice lady with the squishy cute newborn baby that really has made me want to get pregnant, we headed down the frozen food aisle to pick up two chicken lasagnas.  One is for us to eat.  The other is to give away.  Our pastor challenged us to take a hot meal to someone who is sick or recently had a baby, as way of going back to the structure of the early church.  We thought it was a pretty cool challenge, so we took him up on it.  Hence, the second chicken lasagna. 

On our way to the check-out line, Alejandro said (in squirrel! like fashion) "(Gasp!) We should take the lasagna to her!!" 

I knew, of course, who he was referring to, and that initiated our 15-minute search of Walmart to find the sweet new mom with her sweet newborn, who will surely be soon purchasing an Ergo.  It was, sadly, a failed mission.  I was really so excited too, because I have sort of a knack for making friends in the grocery store and taking them lasagna.  These types of friends really become the best kind.  Maybe someday I'll meet her in heaven and I can tell her what great friends on earth we were supposed to be.  Or maybe I'll just see her in two weeks in the produce section.  Here's crossing our fingers! 

My favorite moment of all, though, was when we had just braved the grocery store's hazard zone (read baking aisle).  As we rounded the corner to head into the next aisle, we passed a mom and her 5 year old (at least he appeared to be 5).  As she firmly planted a hand on his back pressing him forward into that chaotic baking aisle, he dug in his heels, looked up at his mom and said, "We have to go IN THERE?!?"  Followed by Alfred Hitchcock's screeching horror music.  Well, ok, that last part didn't happen really.  Except in my imagination. 

So there you have it.  The story saga of how we gave an Ergo Carrier 101 lesson, launched and terminated a 15-minute search, played with our toddler, learned a new recipe, traversed the baking aisle and oh yeah! purchased two weeks worth of groceries, on the day before Thanksgiving.  In only two and a half hours. 

And since it's pretty unlikely I'll manage to blog tomorrow - as I'll be quite occupied eating way more food than any individual should in a single day - I'll just tell you all now:

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

Not Good.

This is our kitchen sink. 

This is not good, people.

It means that we are washing our dishes here:

(The bathroom adjacent to our kitchen.)

Because my handyman/husband is working all day on other peoples' jobs until after dinner time, this is going to be my saving grace for our lunch and dinner tomorrow:

  

 Right after I wash it. 

In this sink.

Sigh.

Anyone want to invite Danny and I over tomorrow?

I'm kidding.

Ahem. 

Ok, not really. 

On my mind tonight...

Snow!  Tonight it snowed here for the first time this year!

Snow tires that must be bought.

Bible study.  We're learning a lot.

Our businesses.  Wow, we're learning A LOT.  Alejandro sent me this picture text the other night while we were both working.  I was doing facials.  He was pricing materials racing through the aisles of Home Depot. 

Alejandro's cousin and his new bride: 

The car seat that was handed down to us from a great friend whose kids no longer need it.  What a gift!  No more moving carseats back and forth between two cars.  Hooray!

My team.  They are so courageous!  They take big and little steps to move out of mediocrity and live their lives big.  Please pray God will weave courage into their character more with each day. 

The schedule.  I'm so thankful for the ability to shape it and change it.  Oh!  I almost forgot something on my schedule!  Phew, I'm glad I remembered. 

Danny.  I love how he cuddles and holds on while we move him from the car to the bed after bedtime. 

The grocery list.  Tomorrow is grocery day.  We shop for groceries two weeks at a time.  So that means I better go do it. 

stream of consciousness

tired.  i'm quite tired. 

there are many days and weeks that i feel energetic, positive, upbeat, and able to tackle the world.  tonight is not one of them.  usually anytime i'm on my period, it's not one of them.  tonight, i feel just plain worn out.  and frumpy.  i feel pretty frumpy.  of course, my hair pulled back in a pony tail, the sweats that probably need to be washed and the t-shirt splattered with orange juice that i'm wearing are not helping the matter.  oh and the pile of laundry in the bedroom that has been murmuring my name all day are also not helping.

the good thing is that i'm tired because both of our schedules are so full up with work that we hardly have time to do say hello before falling into bed next to each other.  it's not a schedule we're going to be able to keep up for long.  please pray that god teaches us how to keep all things within their boundaries.  we're learning slowly. 

we did connect long enough last night to be able to figure out our holiday plans!  i'm extremely excited about what we have in store!  we picked a few holiday events that we've enjoyed in the recent years and decided which ones we really want to make a tradition.  even though danny was with us for his first christmas last year, it seems like this year is his real first, because he's so much more able to enjoy it and understand it. 

i absolutely love this time of year.  i love decadent hot and chocolaty drinks that come with the season.  i love that we go hunt and cut down our own christmas tree every year in the mountainous forests of colorado.  (it's kind of hard to do that in california and costa rica.)  i am excited to put lights on our house.  scratch that.  i'm excited to enjoy having lights on our house this year.  i will most likely not be the one putting them up, thankyouverymuchalejandro.  i am looking forward to christmas music. 

yes, i know it's not even thanksgiving yet.  hush.

i'm looking forward to christmas pajamas and a tree that has to somehow be toddler proof and dog proof and which will smell like pine and drop needles on the floor for a month. oh and there's christmas eve service and so much more. 

ok, i'll stop, because i've surely lost all but my few true friends who are as nut-so over christmas as i am.  they're still reading and getting as excited as i am. 

anyway, it's going to be a fun season.  i'm also looking forward to not traveling much this season.  with family far away, we've traditionally been the ones who travel.  i'm looking forward to a break from that.

i did say i was going to move on to another subject, didn't it?  oops.

danny is doing all kinds of new things now!  i just can't keep up.  well, i can't keep you guys up.  i'm formulating in my mind a 16 month post, but there's a lot of video involved, which always multiplies the time it takes to post it, so hopefully i'll get it posted by the time he's 17 months old.  ha! 

i'm tempted to tell you all of the things...  but i'll resist the temptation and make you all wait.  i know.  i'm so mean. 

we are taking a bible study class at our church which will end this month.  that will free up a night of the week.  anyone have any ideas what we should do with it?  i'm stuck between filling it with serving, another bible study, designating it as a non-working, non-commitment night, or maybe just a night where we can go back to giving each other a night off.  remember when we used to do that?  no cooking, no working, no responsibilities?  it was nice.  then financial crisis hit and well, we haven't done that in too long.  we could also add a night of work.  or we could designate it a cleaning day - because our house could definitely use it.  maybe a movie night. what do you all think we should do with that night? 

speaking of movie nights, we have one waiting downstairs, so i'd better get goin'. 

sweet dreams, everyone!

And now, the hard part.

Today I apologized to Danilo for the first time.  I don't mean "Oops!  Sorry, Danny, I didn't mean to bonk your arm.  I'm sorry."  I mean, really admit wrong and ask for forgiveness kind of apologize. 

He's not oblivious anymore to what goes on around him.  He's no longer an infant, naive to the evils of the world (although I do think infants have a sensitivity to when something is wrong with their parents).  Now he imitates.  He senses feelings.  And to an certain extent he understands. 

Alejandro and I got into an argument last night (I know. Shocker. We argue just like every other couple.) so we all kind of woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Danny included.  Even though he was asleep during the whole thing, maybe he heard part of it or maybe he just knew something was wrong by our demeanor this morning.  In any case, he was cranky and fussy and throwing things (his M.O. these days when he's upset). 

God was speaking to me all night and over breakfast, after the third time Danny had thrown something, He graciously gave me the words to say to my upset 16-month-old. 

"Honey, Mama and Papa used ugly words and actions last night and we were very wrong.  Mama needs to say sorry to you right now.  I used hurtful actions and words and I need to ask you to forgive me.  And even though you and I feel pretty icky inside this morning, we both need to be very careful to use kind words and actions now." 

Tears came.

"Will you forgive me, honey?  I'm so so sorry."  Then I bowed my head, and even though I'd already done so in my mind, I showed my son how to pray a prayer of repentance. 

"God, I used unkind words and actions last night and I'm so sorry.  Please forgive me.  Show me how to be a good mommy.   Help Danny and me to use kind words and actions this morning even though we feel icky inside.  Help me to still know when Danny needs grace today and when he needs discipline.  Jesus, I'm so sorry." 

Simple words and child-like faith have a way of cutting to the heart of the matter sometimes.  I don't think I've felt that vulnerable before my God since the first time I came to the cross.  I may have been modeling faith and repentance for my son, but I was the one being schooled this morning. 

"Jesus, I'm so so sorry." 

Then I lifted my head, and with great effort, as he still looked at me, I took a deep breath and dried my tears.  I put on a smile, and let the issue be over.  I'd received forgiveness.  We'd started fresh.  I'd laid it all at the cross and I needed to show my son that when it's over, it's over. 

I smiled and said, "Thank you Jesus for your forgiveness!" 

And then we continued with breakfast. 

Those simple actions taught me a great lesson.  Sometimes we have already received forgiveness but we're still dragging the issue around in our back pocket.  I'm amazed at the grace of God and how Danny's and my morning instantly turned around.  He stopped throwing things and has been listening and obeying better today than ever. 

There is nothing more humbling than being shown all of my faults through my son's eyes.  What a gift to be able to see things as he understands them; so simply.  I know that, try as I might not to, I will mess up many more times, and how freeing it is to know that I don't have to be perfect in front of my son and that my willingness to be vulnerable and repentant will mold his little heart to seek Jesus honestly when he is wrong.  In my weakness, there is victory.  In Christ, I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.  Even parent my little one.

Thank you Jesus for your strength this morning.