Cry Baby, Cry

I used to be able to sleep soundly anywhere. The car, a plane, a tiny desk in an overly crowded classroom, it didn't matter. I could sleep through it all.

Then I had a child. All of a sudden my brain was magically tuned in to a special frequency that could pick up even the slightest whimper. My eyes spring open, my ears straining, my mind aware something has occured but it is still not quite sure what it is. The second slightly louder wail quickly follows immediately clarifying the situation. My child has awakened in the night and has decided to use this new found "down time" to torture me. 

Interestingly enough, it seems I am the only person in the house who is tuned in to this particular frequency. Proof came earlier this week.

My youngest is now 7 months old, and normally he sleeps just fine at night. But, 2 nights ago darling boy decided to wake up at 2 am and start calling for company. My eyes immediately flew open. I laid there listening, hoping he would settle himself down. He didn't. I then turned to my next line of defense, my sweet husband. He was snoring. Oblivious to all. Sleeping peacefully. I thought several undeserved and mean thoughts about my poor husband then noisely went to care for the " needs" of my demanding little offspring. 

As I flopped back into bed the whimpers began again. I sighed rather loudly and glared at the figure beside me. Apparently something had awakened him during my stomping retreat and rustling return.....

I could feel it coming. The overly tired, everythings worse in the middle of the night battle of unfair accusations. If your not familiar with this battle, I will explain. It is normally one person spewing a vicious onslaught of exaggerated perceived wrong doings in a louder than necessary voice. The other person is usually staring in wide eyed confusion trying to determine if this is a dream, prank, or someone who is mentally unstable. I'm sure you can guess which role I played in this epic 2 am battle....

Almost immediately, I knew my tired rant was very wrong. It is not my husband's fault that he can't read my mind or that he didn't receive the "gift" of the crying frequency. It's a pity, but it isn't his fault. Don't feel to bad for him though. I swallowed my pride and apologized then cooked three of his favorite meals this week. Plus I made cookies....so apology accepted. 

In reflection, I've made peace with my role as the hearer of all cries, also known as mother. I have agreed to not assume he knows when I need and want his help. And the dear man believes me, or at least he will till the next 2 am battle!

Where does my Help come from?

My necks is sore from the constant swiveling. My cheeks sting from the repeated blows. My heart aches. My mind wonders. 

But I am resolved. I will lift my head, close my mouth, and retain my testimony, my dignity. Like Gideon I will watch the 20,000 men turn and leave, I will look out at the bleak unknown, and trust the movements of my God. 

I will lift my eyes up. My help will come. True strength comes from my Lord. I will put my trust in Him. 

Adventures in Appendicitis

As most of you know, I spent this past weekend in the hospital recovering from an appendectomy. I thought it would be fun to share some little gems I gathered from this weekend. 

1. Listen to your husband when he says that intense, never ending, excruciating pain in your side is not simply a reaction to an antibiotic. 

2. Always brush your hair before leaving the house, no matter how bad you feel. 

3. Morphine is pretty amazing. Like REALLY amazing. 

4. Ambulance drivers/ medics are wonderfully kind people who give you desperately needed water when cruel doctors and nurses deny this basic human need. 

5. Little surgery hats are funny, with or without the morphine. 

6. Being awakened from surgery is one of the cruelest wake ups ever. Let a girl sleep!

7. The food at WakeMed is not nearly as good as the food at REX ( just sayin...)

8.  Pretty flowers from sweet friends and family really do make you feel better! ( kit kats, chocolate covered pretzels, and cake pops might have also helped)

9. Nurses are torturers who force you to get up and walk and breathe deep when all you want to do is sleep. 

10. Holding out for the bigger room so your husband can actually have a bed pays off! 

11. Four days is way too long to be away from these sweet faces!

12. My husband is a rare find. He gives, provides, cares, and does. All without complaint or expectation. 

13. My family is a bunch of rock stars! They scooped up my boys and gladly loved and cared for them while I couldn't.

14. Modern medicine is fabulous and I'm super thankful for it ( I mean, they pulled my appendix out through my belly button! That's kinda amazing! I would post a picture of my belly button, but that might be a bit much)

15. And lastly, Thank you Jesus for making our bodies resilient little healers! 

( that's me. At home. Feeling better.)

I'm Dreaming of a White January 29th

My oldest has been begging for snow since the first Christmas cartoon aired back in December. Well, it finally came. Here is his take:

He may be slightly confused….

I feel crappy, oh so crappy...

I have been sick. Like actually go to the doctor two days in a row sick. Yesterday, upon returning from the doctor ( again) I caught an unfortunate glimpse of myself in the mirror. Dirty, unbrushed hair, cracked lips, ashy hairy legs, and a greasy broken out face. Apparently wallowing in self pity and your bed isn't the best beauty routine.

Thankfully, I have a sweet husband who politely ignores the neanderthal beast that has replaced his wife. He has also done an excellent job of caring for both of our boys and even kept the house in respectable shape. He has unwittingly given himself away... I now know of his capabilities. I'm sure he will regret this later, but right now I owe him too big to use it against him. Pity.

Today I have finally started to feel a bit better. I can sip water without tearing up and I can stand without fear of falling over. I was even able to write a few coherent sentences here!

I guess that means it is time I locate a brush and a razor....

I am weak but He is strong.

-You're not smart enough.

-You're not pretty enough.

-No one thinks you're funny/ clever/ interesting.

-You're just not that talented.

-You're too short.

-You're too fat.

-You're a crappy mom.

These are all lies I have heard. Lies I have believed. Lies that were born in my own mind then mumbled to the mirror. 

Many of us are guilty of trash talking our own reflection. We focus in on a perceived imperfection or weakness and magnify it to soul crushing proportions. 

But here is the beauty, my weakness does not matter in His strength. My imperfections are covered. My inabilities are reshaped and reimagined for His purposes. I must quiet my mind and instead search for the heart of my God. His Word assures me of His love, His plan, His continual work in me.

It is time to rewrite the lies and choose to see the blessings.....The work in me and through me.

-I am not the smartest person in the world, but I have a thirsty mind that can learn.

-I am not a super model, but I can reflect the beauty of my Savior.

-I am not the most interesting man/ woman in the world, but I have been given wonderful friends who love me and laugh with me.

-I am not freakishly talented at any particular thing, but I can use what talent I have been given to serve my Lord.

-The short thing....well, I really am short. Time to just come to grips with that one...

-I am not a size two, but I am healthy and physically able to accomplish all my Maker gives my hands to do.
   
-I am not uber mom, but I love my boys. As I study God's Word and spend time with my Heavenly Father He teaches me how I can love them more and better.

It turns out I am a person of weaknesses and imperfections, and that's okay.

All I want is...

Reality. I've decided my generation and the following generations no longer live there. I recently became aware of an odd expectation that has taken root with the 20 somethings to early 30s. We have created a mythical creature in our minds. A unicorn of employment. A fantasy fueled by the internet, " realty tv", and those people moving to tropical islands on House Hunters International.

We are searching for The Perfect Job/Career/  It's really more of a life style....our prerequisites are the following:

We want to work the fewest amount of hours possible. In a perfect world we work from home ( our large eco friendly home with four bedrooms and a seperate office), and we log no more than 5 hours a day.

We want to make massive amounts of money- now. We do not work our way up, pay our dues, and earn a promotion. No, if we have the misfortune of not being our own boss then the boss we do have is supposed to immediately recognize our unmatched skill/ worthiness/ awesomeness and pay us accordingly ( even though we work minimal hours everyday. I guess we are just that good??).

We want to LOVE our jobs. We truly believe that if we are not passionate about it we shouldn't have to do it. The thought of simply working a job to provide is repulsive and unacceptable! We deserve fun, interesting, and " meaningful" work....and don't forget! This awesome job is on my schedule and pays top dollar ( if by chance it also benefits barefoot and hungry children in Myanmar even better!)

We are delusional. A few, small, select group has found success with this magical combo, but it is not the norm. It is not the average man's reality. Ask any small business owner and they will tell you they work looong hours. They worked hard to build their business and pay, and normally they do like, even love what they do, but it can still "feel" like a job.

 We have become lazy, spoiled, and greedy. Our demands for employment on our terms has revealed these truths.

Imagine previous generations, our parents, demanding short workdays, refusing jobs they didn't love, expecting top dollar as the newbie. It's laughable! And so are we.

So dream on my fellow millenials. But remember the real world requires real work. Work requires effort and time. Effort and time are eventually rewarded. And love....well, some may argue that love is optional.