Telling Whoppers
The other night, my dad and I were driving with a car full of boys. The four boys ranged in age from 4 to 13, and their conversations were comical and varied; farts, dogs, superheroes, and all manner of randomness. Their energy was pinging around the car, a last hurrah before getting home for bedtime. I was only partially listening to their conversation when my ears picked on a whopper of a tale coming from the backseat. A story from one of the boys about how he helped a wolf in his backyard. “Fortunately” this little boy was a hero, calmly letting the wolf out and away from his dogs.…
Mean Mommy
I’ve got a confession to make. I’m a mean mom. Though it’s not exactly a secret. My kids have yelled it rather loudly, that’s how I know it’s true. I decided to see if I could discern a pattern, so I began to take note of the occasions the phrase was uttered. In the end, I wasn’t able to keep a running list because the reasons change with the breeze, too fast to keep up. Here’s a small sample: No, you can’t have candy for breakfast. No iPads before school. Stop fighting now because in 7.2 seconds someone will be hurt. No, I’m not buying you glasses, you don’t need…
Fruit & Consequences
My nephew sat at our kitchen table writing scripture, a consequence for something he had done. I sat across from him overseeing his progress. As children are known to do, he was whining and crying, arguing and bargaining, anything and everything he possibly could to get out of the simple task. “If I say it to you 5 times can I just write it 4 times?” “No.” “Grandpa lets me do it that way.” “I’m not.” Heavy sobs burst out, “but it’s so hard!” “I know.” “But I’ve been working real hard at not fighting this week.” “You have, I’m really proud of you.” “It’s taking so long and I’m…
4, 6, 8, 13, 16, 32
I can remember myself as an 18 year old walking down the aisle, orange roses in hand, scorched by the Texas sun but focused only on the handsome man waiting for me. I was a fledgling baby adult, thinking I was grown- the hallmark of those who aren’t yet. I was marrying my best friend, he was joining the military, life was going to be perfect. We were going to have the white picket fence with 2 kids and 2 dogs. Our life would be a picture of stability, comfort, and well behaved children. My short sightedness makes me chuckle. I’ve always been a daydreamer, prone to idealism. I couldn’t…
From the Oceans to the Mountains
Every blog I’ve written in the last couple of years has started with a simple thought. Over a short (and sometimes not so short) amount of time, the idea rolled around in my brain until it was fleshed out and shared here in my blog. But for the past month, ideas haven’t had time to marinate or be thoughtfully considered, hence the lack of posting. My brain has been functioning in a hop-skip-jump pattern. It’s the effect of trying to process too many things at one time and ending up glitching like the little girl in Wreck-It-Ralph. The catalyst behind my glitch? We moved. From the beautiful beaches of the…
So long, Baxter
12 years ago, we did something foolish, as 19 and 22 year olds are known to do. It is the faux pas of many a young military couple, and we fell into the same trap. We bought a brand new car with a massive loan, a 2007 Toyota Prius. We named him Baxter. My “responsible” 30-something self would counsel anyone at that age and in those shoes to just say no. It’s not a good idea to have a car payment that big, your husband is only an E4 and you don’t have a steady job, I would tell her. You still owe on your trade-in, that loan is too…
Good Friday
We threw our worst at you. Our pride, our envy our jealousy, our hatred. We took sins of the heart, turned them into action. Slapped, beaten humiliated, crucified. We did our best our worst. You didn’t fight back. You took it all. The sin of that moment, the sin of your people, The sin of people to come. My sin. My pride, my envy my jealousy, my hatred. You died. Our best (and our worst) is paltry. You were not defeated. You are victorious. Risen. Worthy.
Avengers & Easter
I just bought my tickets to Avengers Endgame. The end of an era. Starting with Iron Man in 2008, Marvel has released 21 movies, soon to be 22, and John and I have seen all but one in theaters. To include that time in 2014 we were asked to leave the theater because we tried to take a baby. We have been dedicated to these stories and characters for over a decade, and in just a couple weeks this iteration will come to an end. If you couldn’t tell, we are pretty big fans of superheroes around here. My favorites have been the characters with a strong moral compass, like…
A Letter to My First Born
Happy birthday to my first born. You made me a mommy, and six years ago I was privileged to meet you. When you took your first breaths your tiny arms flailed against the cold air; first sensations in this big world are overwhelming. I brought you to my chest, snuggled your soft skin to mine, and you settled into me. My world changed in that moment, and together we began our journey as mother and son. I marveled at the way that your tiny body had grown from a poppy seed to the perfect baby I held in my arms. Watching TV while you slept on my chest, I breathed…
