proclaiming skies

late yesterday afternoon, i was sitting outside waiting for chloe's ballet class to let out. i was [sinfully] wrought with anxiety over things that are invariably: a) beyond my control and b) don't really necessiate panic. i'm not sure what made me glance over my right shoulder to see this:

several verses crossed my mind, particularly the one in Psalms that says, "the heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the works of His hands". [on a sidenote: a few nights ago, chloe and i were laying out in the driveway looking at the stars. "mommy, look! there are a hundred and twenty six stars!", she exclaimed. i laughed and told her that the reason God created so many stars was to reveal a tiny bit of His glory to us.]

i also thought of the verse in Isaiah that says: "for my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. "as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." and lastly - the one that comes to my mind (and heart) every time i find myself wrought with worry: "look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. are you not much more valuable than they? who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?". (Mt 6)

it is - in moments like this - i am so grateful that i have the bits and pieces of His Word truly hidden in my heart. pricked by a moment, they overflow from some mysterious storehouse in my brain down into my heart, flowing like a stream of mercy.

oh, what an awesome God we have who can remind us of such treasures in something as simple as the sunset peeking through the clouds.

as with everything else, i am desperate to teach my children lessons that i never learned. (some of which i am still struggling to learn) one of which is how to trust God instead of worrying. chloe - being four and a half and extremely precocious - picked up on my worry yesterday. i explained to her what i was concerned about and that instead of worrying, i should be trusting and praying to the Lord for His will and not my own. typical of a tuesday, we rushed along bedtime, reading books and brushing teeth, forgetting all about that particular conversation. i don't know what reminded her - at random - this morning when i took her to school and was about to leave her classroom she said, "mommy! we forgot to pray about [your problem] in our night-night prayers!". "oh! you are so right," i said. "let's pray right now." she put her tiny little hands in mine and i watched her as she bowed her head and closed her eyes...

oh, what an awesome God we have who can remind us of His faithfulness through the faith of our own little children. our children - just as the skies - truly proclaim the work of His hands. and i am so humbled by all of it.

regression postponed.

wouldn't you know it. just when we're looking forward to a little regression into adolescence - adulthood interrupts. children's birthday parties, travel plans, work related responsibilities... you know, things that were utterly irrelevant at seventeen. all colliding together in a most inconvenient manner (and time). this is i where i have to pause and second guess the whole "you have to grow old, but don't have to grow up" philosophy. that sounds really warm and fuzzy, but i'm afraid the inevitable and unescapable truth is otherwise.

that said, i can't lament too much over all this. all it really means for me is that - come friday - i'll already be a day into the longest vacation of my adult life (ten days) in emerald isle, nc. i have all of these fantastic plans for reading, writing, photographing, blogging. you know, things are so different, in my head. one of the most difficult lessons in adulthood (that i'm still learning) is how to allow something - everything - to unfold. rather than build up unrealistic expectations and thus, set myself up for disappointment, stress and disaster.

admittedly, taking a two and four year old on such a trip is really more work than it is leisure, but still. chris isn't able to go due to work related obligations, but we're sharing a beachfront house with our good friends who moved up to lake norman last year. our girls are the same age and are looking forward to spending time together. and me, well i'm not so much worried about the labor of traveling alone with two children as much as i am my sanity. and we are all painfully aware that is spread relatively thin.

stumbling towards idiocy. in heels.

*sigh*. oh, how i wish i were making this up: i have two pair of patent slingbacks - in chocolate brown and black. i feared this day would come. i am wearing ONE OF EACH. i don't know which is worse. that i am wearing one of each or that it is 11:15 and i JUST NOTICED it.

random acts of idiocy like this one are not surprising. for example - and thanks, heather, for reminding me - like the day i lost my car in the parking lot. literally. or the day i was halfway to work and realized that i had totally forgotten to drop the kids off at school. [i didn't forget they were in the car - with my two forgetting would be a visual and audible impossibility.]

but the day i lost my car, i really did forget where i'd left it. i remember where i parked that morning, but heather and i had went out for lunch and i couldn't - for the life of me - remember where i parked when returned. this is not a large parking lot at our office. we're talking one oval shaped lot. i walked and walked, futilely searching... holding my remote up in the air as if were a beacon in the night, furiously pressing the unlock button, hoping to hear the double beep that would lead me home. nothing. the thought never crossed my mind that my car might have been stolen. no, i knew. and i also knew that i would eventually be left with no other choice but to call heather. it was my last resort.

"what's up?" she asks. "WHERE in the HELL is my car?!" - "the side aisle - first spot," she answers, very non-chalant and matter of factly - as if i called her every afternoon to find out where my car is parked. then - abrupt hysterical laughter. >click<

nadiawilder.com

i [finally] created a new gallery for my photography. it - like everything else - is going to be a continuous work in progress. it's parked at http://nadiawilder.com

identity crisis...

here i am at three. all done up and clueless. the same could be said for of a particular photo of me at twenty-three, but that's another blog. there are no shades of gray when it comes to SEC football in the south. you simply have to choose a team. and if you live in alabama, you're born and bred with a predetermined allegiance to alabama or auburn. i didn't grow up in a die-hard football fanatic family, but it was expected (obviously) that my allegiance would be on the side of the tide. and this was fine with me.

this would all change when i was seven and in the second grade. all for the love of a boy. (and this is the point when my mother should've sat me down and given me whole "people liking you for who you are" or "not changing yourself for others" speech). this particular boy had a shiny nylon auburn jacket that he wore to school every day and i knew - i just knew - if only i too had an auburn jacket, i would instantly win his affection and thus live happily ever after with this boy and our shared affinity for the auburn tigers. and thus began a habit of conformity that would carry into adulthood...

fast forward twenty (plus) years and that boy - the one in the rayon auburn jacket - well, he went on to play college football... for alabama. and while i remained somewhat apathetic over years, my allegiance to the tigers was somewhat solidified when i married an alumni. and now, it's my children all dolled up - parker in his tiger's jersey; chloe in her auburn cheerleading outfit.

with the hooplah of football season, i can't help but pause and ask myself, "who am i really?". what is my [fan] identity? i enjoy watching college football - especially if it's expected to be a close game. i love the atmosphere of games. i love the excitement, but i can't seem to feign passion through my apathy over allegiance to either team.

granted - and as chris so kindly pointed out - i obviously have more important things to be worried about. easy for him to say. his fan identity is all worked out. has been for years. so it's a small part of who i am - but in the season of fall, your fan identity is a significant piece of your proverbial puzzle when you live in the heart of alabama.

past distortions. present fun.

there are many places that i vividly remember from childhood as fascinating and beautiful. yet, upon revisiting some of these places as an adult, the disappointment is tragically overwhelming. like my old neighborhood, for example. and my childhood home, which i still can't bare to blog about again just yet. fortunately, our local zoo is not included on the list. in fact, it is one of the places that i remember from childhood that is remarkably even better now than it was in my distorted memory.

we are [very] frequent visitors of the zoo. and the mcwane center. and chuck e cheese. i've inadvertently spoiled my children rotten to the places that - in my childhood - were annual treats, at best - requiring a birthday, special event or field trip. we make it a point to try to see different animals on different trips so that it doesn't become mundane and i challenge myself to try to take different photographs of things i haven't already photographed while i'm chasing behind them. here are a few from today...

as we were walking to the entrance, i notice chloe is lagging behind. i turn around and she's standing still, struggling to see through her dirty heart-shaped sunglasses to push the buttons on her pink-blingy faux cell phone. "what are you doing?", i asked. "calling emma." she says.

state fair. revisited.

speaking of distortions - and as if the zoo weren't enough excitement for one day - we decided to go to the state fair tonight. it was a lot of fun, but i'm not going to candy coat the experience as being worth the cost of admission, ride tickets, food, extras. it's difficult as an adult to enjoy throwing away [a ridiculously obscene amount of hard earned] money for a few hours of fun interspersed with stress, mess and throngs of screaming kids. not to mention the panic that ensues when you're stuck on the top of a ferris wheel long enough to think about the fact it's parts are likely older than you are and were put together, um, yesterday. i also think my expectations for the new location were slightly unrealistic. you can take the fair out of the ghetto, but... well, you can probably imagine how that phrase ends.

strange. everything is so different... in my head. i remember feeling this way after revisiting the circus for the first time as an adult. i'd arrived with eager anticipation and left just feeling oddly sad and downright weird. same thing with the fair - only add to that an immediate need for bathing. on the bright side, the kids did have a great time. and my bff, steffi, and her boys were able to come too - thus providing more subject matter and memories for heaving laughter.

laughter: the best medicine.

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter."

~e.e. cummings

say what you want about life (and mine in particular) according to e.e. cummings - and the photograph above - steffi and i certainly haven't wasted any days away here lately. maybe its the fits of nostalgia ushered in by the first whiff of cool, fall air, the anticipation of seeing old friends, or the... no. wait. we're always like this. in fact, we have always been like this. it matters not that we've cycled in and out of our friendship through the decades, losing and regaining touch. any time we are together there is laughter (and a plethora of other things - some of which are not blog material) but always laughter. never feigned or insincere. its what we refer to as heaving laughter. we laugh so ridiculously, excruciatingly hard that the only sounds being made are the gasps and heaves of air flowing in and out of our lungs. we laugh at things that others wouldn't [and probably shouldn't] find an ounce of humor in. we could easily call each other - or see each other for that matter (we live five minutes apart) - but instead, we prefer texting and gtalking... and consequently, typing a lot of 'ROFL's and 'LOL's. we spend a lot of time typing out the phoenetic spelling of words, not because it's easier, but because it's funnier. to us. and words like crap become KA.RAP. and just like that, heaving. this is the beauty of friendship.

lately, i can't help but think - each time i've recovered from one of these painful sessions of hysteria - why we ever wasted so much time NOT laughing it up like this. i can remember a time, not long ago - not being able to remember the last time i laughed myself to tears - you know, one of those good tears in the eyes, beverage-out-the-nose laughs that leave you feeling oddly refreshed.

after blogging about my regressions and reversions, i received an enlightening nugget of wisdom (and i hope truth) from a [much ;)] older and hence, wiser person. he said, "kiddo, ...you have to grow old, but you DON'T have to grow up." ((pause)) let that simmer for a moment.

what!! really? i mean, reeeally?! is this true?! and if so, why - fortheloveofblog - has no one let me in on this little secret of life until now? i mean, here i am blogging myself to death in my futile attempt to bridge the proverbial gap between my thirteen-year-old mental aptitude and my thirty-two-year-old life (and body).
"what a load off", i responded. i might need to change the title and direction of my blog in that case. :) although, i've said from the beginning that the whole 'adulthood' title is in no way an attribute to my mentality. it's simply an allegory. my geographical location - of sorts - on the timeline of life. we get tangled up sometimes in the throes of adulthood: so tangled up in seriousness of life and our facades of maturity, we forget to laugh when it's the laughing that - as Gordon Allport said - is the only appropriate sword:

"So many tangles in life [i.e. adulthood] are ultimately hopeless that we have no appropriate sword other than laughter." ~ Gordon W. Allport

homecoming, slumber party, regressions...

i just received this urgent word from my favorite former teacher and current facebook bff, lloyd mehaffey:

"VHS Homecoming is October 3rd. It will be Mrs. Holcombe's last game at the ticket booth (in her now-legendary Bee outfit). She's retiring October 13th. Get there early!"

i was supposed to leave for emerald isle on the 2nd. when i read the first sentence, i thought to msyelf "oh, i'm going to have to miss it"... and then i read on and knew... i just couldn't. i'm a little caught off guard by the early homecoming date this year. what? what am i even talking about... i've been to two homecoming games in the fourteen years since i graduated and each time - from the moment my feet hit the pavement of the parking lot and began walking towards the stadium - it was literally like walking into a time warp. mr. mckissick was giving out the tickets at the ticket booth and mrs. holcombe was collecting them at the entrance. exactly as it was in 1994. oh, i just don't have the time or energy to blog on about it right now. suffice it tosay, it was if time had stood still.

for some reason, i just expected it to be at the end of october. that said, steffi and i have had to jump on the homecoming slumber party plans. i informed my mom that it was coming sooner rather than later and she agreed with two conditions: 1) the first person asleep doesn't get covered in shaving cream and; 2) we don't stay up all night giggling. um, yea right. okay. so its on (like donkey kong). i don't think we ever covered anyone in shaving cream, but thanks mom for the excellent idea.

oh, and punishment for the party poopers (i.e. no shows) has been predetermined. one of the few benefits of adulthood: a sam's club membership.... toilet paper in bulk.

happy homecoming! :)

adolescence revisited.

sophomore slumber party - 1992

slumber parties. (*sigh*) undoubtedly - one of the things i miss the most here in adulthood is the slumber parties from my junior high and high school days, with my junior high and high school bff's - many of whom are still a part of my life. girls, why do we not still do this? why do we have to wait and plan a trip or go on a "retreat" or to a conference to spend a night in jammies, laughing until we're crying and delving into the details of each others lives? granted, in adulthood we might need to forgo the delving for more of the laughing, but still. why is this a ritual deemed inappropriate in adulthood. if you ask me, i'd say the landscape here would be a lot more inviting (and humorous) if strewn with photographs like the one above.

some of the best memories of my high school years are the numerous slumber parties at my [parents'] house. they weren't held at my house because i was enormously popular or the most liked. no, slumber parties were one of those rare occasions where the oddities in and of my life actually worked in my favor. well... that and my parents may have very well been the only ones who would agree to tolerate a sleepless night with a house over run with eight to ten screaming teenage girls.

speaking of my parents, in hindsight - i see that this begrudging act of willingness (at least twice a year for five or six years) to be their redemption of sorts. i haven't asked, but i feel certain this was their peace offering. they owed me. after all, this was their dream i was living in. growing up on a cul de sac in leeds, i didn't spend the first ten years of my life dreaming about a nineteenth century log cabin in a forest. i will not ever forget the day we drove out to harpersville to look at what - by all appearances - seemed to be a run down, abandoned shack on the outskirts of a cotton field. i was ten. i had already caught onto the fact - like all other ten year olds - that my parents were bonified weirdos, so i didn't understand what all the excitement was about. they saw beyond the caved in roof and worn siding that covered the gaps between the logs. they saw the beauty of the original two room structure and the sturdiness of the original flooring that was still intact in the loft. they saw the potential of restoration and - as if quoting the prophet Isaiah - seemed to declare "they will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations." (Isa 61:4) perhaps, if at the age of ten i had hidden that little scriptural jewel in my heart, i would've seen the potential, too. instead, i saw... well, i couldn't see anything through my tears of mortification and horror.

within a year, they would tear down, move, rebuild and restore this cabin. now that i'm an adult myself, it's hard to fathom what a little thorn in their side i must have been through this process. when all was said and done, it was beautiful indeed. inside and out. but i wouldn't see (or appreciate) it's beauty - or the blood, sweat and tears of my parents' labor - for at least another decade.

needless to say, my room became the loft of my parents' cabin and with three (yes, three) beds and enough floor space to sleep the overflow, my room was the logical location for lodging. for years, i have talked about and thought about a reunion slumber party. every time i go home or spend any time in my old room, i think of how fun it would be to all be gathered there again and how much my mom would enjoy seeing all the girls together again. what are we waiting for? steffi and i decided that this was the year - even if it ended up just being the two of us. and it may. with homecoming coming up, what better time to get together? my mom was in europe while we were concocting the plans to relive some adolescent fun and i couldn't wait to tell her.

last friday, we (me, mom, kids) were in the car driving through the metropolis of downtown vincent and consequently past our old alma mater - which suddenly reminded me:

n: omigoodness, mom! i can't believe i haven't told you! guess what?! a few of us are going to get together and go to the homecoming game this year, maybe out for dinner afterwards and then... guess what!?"

r: what?

n: we're going to have a SLUMBER PARTY!... at your

r: OH NO YOU'RE NOT! [she screamed in what may or may not have been contrived horror - i literally don't think i even got out the 'hou' syllable - i lost her - or rather she lost it - when i said the word 'your']

(oh, but yes we are. it's already done, i'm thinking to myself).

n: what?! i thought you would be excited! so happy to have all the girls reunited, etc. etc.

r: how many girls are we talking about?

n: i dunno... four or five probably.

[nothing. just a blank stare. i'm driving so i can't tell if she's kidding or not. i'm just assuming that she is and immediately channeling the thirteen year old inside of me, i revert back to same mentality thinking to myself, 'well, she's not still saying no, so that means yes'!]

n: so, will you make us biscuits and gravy for breakfast the next day?

[still nothing].

then i do something that doesn't come naturally for me. i try to see things from her perspective. well, not really. but i do try to see a futuristic similar scenario. one can only hope [and pray] that chloe's transition into adulthood is the antithesis of my own. so, as i'm driving, i silently imagine myself - thirty years from now. chloe's in her early thirties, a mommy herself . i'm [gasp-62] but, i'm living it up and traveling the world, basking in the comfort of knowing my children are fully grown. i've just returned from one of my fabulous trips when chloe comes to visit - kids in tow - and asks me if she and her friends can have a slumber party at my house.

um, yea. so then, i decide not to say anything else about it.

saturday afternoon, she came by my house and out of the blue asked, "now when is homecoming?". i could tell she'd mulled it over and was now entertained (if not excited) about the idea. "end of october", i said. "well," she said wryly, "i might change my mind before then."

"good thing, mama, cause i've already invited all the girls!!"

preschool picture day...

chloe's school portrait (06)

tomorrow is picture day at preschool. which means that today, the day before picture day, is day of insanity for me. the effects of my perpetual procrastination [and ocd] are running rampant. as am i. like a chicken with its head cut off. everyone in my family knows this about me. we all know it's days like today that i'm not simply stumbling towards idiocy. i'm in a full sprint. this is especially true of my mother who - when i called her this morning to see if she wanted to meet me for some lunchtime pre-picture day shopping shopping - replied "oh dear!". as if she'd just received troubling news.

this would've been an appropriate to time to remind her that this is all her fault. no, really. it is. i will spare myself the utter humiliation of sharing the photographic evidence against her. but suffice it to say that every time i thumb through the album of my chronological 8x10s, i have to pause [and gasp] at nearly every one and say, "mother! it was one day out of the year. would it reeeallly have been so hard to pencil it in?".

the worst one that is comes to mind (forever etched in my memory and also in the yearbook) is the one from sixth grade. granted, at the age of 11 as a tween in my first year of junior high, perhaps i was at an age where i could have and should have kept up with picture day myself, long having learned the lesson from my elementary school photos. but no. this particular morning, i [obviously] overslept and then opted for a pale pink sleeveless shirt. and by sleeveless, i mean it was one of those sweatshirt-material-type shirts that looked as though the sleeves had been cut off. or ripped off. you know, something you might see someone wearing at the gym in the late 80s. as if that weren't painful enough, you can barely see the edge of the matching pink pleather-like bow sticking out of my disheveled hair. i vaguely remember the horror i felt when i got to school and realized that everyone else looked conspicuously spectacular that day. yes, this was the last time i ever showed up at school on picture day unprepared. it's probably also the last day i ever wore that pink sleeveless shirt. i'm not saying the pictures improved drastically over the years, but i do take complete and total responsibility for the ones that followed.

oh, one would think this is all my futile attempt at displacing yet another childhood insecurity onto my own children with the hopes they would look back on their school photos with fondness. and perhaps it began as such. but growing into this whole adulthood thing, i'm becoming less naive, albeit slightly so. no, i realize that - inevitably - my children will have a similar disdain someday when looking at their photos. perhaps they will wish that i hadn't kept up with it. i can hear parker now, "mother! would it have killed you to NOT put me in a smocked jon-jon when i was three years old?" or "WHAT was up with the sweater vests?" and chloe chiming in, "or those giant bows!". although, let's face it: more likely than not, when my children reminisce over old school photos, the attire will just be a side note to their memories of mommy's spastic behavior the day before and dreaded morning of. only then will i show them my album of school photos and we'll do what me and my sister and my mom do everytime we look at them: giggle ourselves to tears.

(and as a side note, i have to give bloggerific mad props to GYMBOREE. [one of] the only [reasonably priced] children's clothier that is still making clothing for KIDS that look like clothes for kids and not leftovers from britney spears' hay-days shrunk to size. i am horrified by what i saw at the department stores).

the long way home

"In the Trinity Term of 1929 I gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England. I did not then see what is now the most shining and obvious thing; the Divine humility which will accept a convert even on such terms. The Prodigal Son at least walked home on his own feet. But who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance of escape?”~ C.S. Lewis

my conversion to Christianity (read: what we here in the bible belt more often refer to as 'gettin saved') was nothing like that of C.S. Lewis' description. there was no reluctance in my step when i bolted out of the pew and down the aisle of a tiny little church in pell city, alabama on a saturday night in 1992. kneeling and weeping, i didn't know exactly what was happening, but i did know – without a doubt - that it was the Lord calling. and i accepted. oh, to be that fifteen year old girl again - desperately rushing without hesitation to weep at His feet. no, there was no kicking and struggling in that moment. that would come later. and it would come often - although never quite as often as it has throughout this year.

despite my perpetual prodigal and rebellious thoughts, actions and deeds – i always, always end up where i began: weeping. face down. desperate. at His feet. as a result of having found myself this place so many times, He has taught me more throughout this year of my life than all the previous years combined. and the common thread that intertwines itself through every truth revealed is simply that He never lets go. even when we give him every reason to. even when - by all appearances - it seems we wish He would. He still calls and draws us near to Him – and that is when the words of C.S. Lewis ring clearly in my head. and in my heart. my dejection and reluctance is palpable. i have – at times – been the prodigal daughter walking home on her own two feet. but more often than not, i am drawn in kicking and struggling. there is a long, tattered path between accepting Christ at age fifteen and trusting Him at age thirty-two. and at last, i give in. and even though He knew it would – i still think to myself - it shouldn’t have taken seventeen years. so much time spent fruitlessly searching for who i was, where i belonged. all the while He was calling, "you are mine. come home." this is the epitome of His enduring faithfulness. His grace is sufficient. even when you take the long way.

ironically, or rather - providentially – chloe’s memory verse for this week is Romans 8:39. at four, they learn the abridged version of verses and she has developed her own unique memorization technique: turning them into songs. songs with no particular melody, i might add. sort of a mix between singing and yelling. we went to visit my sister tonight and in the car chloe belted out “nooootthiiing can sepaaaraaate us from God’s love… roooomaaaans eeeeight thirtyyyyy niiiiiiiine” all the way there and back. like a chorus on loop. over and over. oh, how it is my prayer for that verse to ring as loudly in her heart as it [is still] in my ears.

“neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:39 (NIV)

vicariously fun friday. and fotogs...

we put the 'fun' in our fun friday today. we decided to go oak mountain state park. we hadn't been in a while and it's close by [and cheap!]. we were the only visitors at the petting zoo; however, most of the animals were unimpressed and oblivious to our presence - with the exception of the ducks. i had not been to the beach area of the park in years and the kids loved it. some unfortunate child left their rubber snake half buried in the sand. said kid's misfortune became parker's fortune. literally. after a good antibacterial scrubbing, both parker and snake are tucked in the bed as i type.

one of my favorite things about my fridays with my children (or any time spent with my children for that matter) is experiencing the vicarious enthrallment of their childhood perspectives. all of the things that have become utterly ordinary to us in adulthood are met with fascination and wonder. and it is a beautiful collision.

that said, i captured a few of those moments on film (or memory card, rather):

my mom also (finally) arrived home from her european sabbatical today. i have to say, i missed the old gal terribly. the kids and i went to her house this afternoon to welcome her home (and collect our souvenirs). and speaking of souvenirs, i'm going to get get a tee shirt made up that says: "my mom traveled all over central europe and i didn't even get this tee shirt". i'm kidding. sort of. she did bring me an adorable handmade magnet from slovakia and a pair of garnet earrings. but still.

when i told chloe we were going to nanna's after nap time, she emerged from her room after naptime wearing her cinderella gown, but then decided it was too itchy and changed in to her pink princess ball gown. when i went back up to her room to check on her, she's standing at her armoire filling her purse with 'treasures'. i tell her it's time to go. "the tiara or the bow?", she asks. she's serious. "the bow. now, let's go."

two hours later: we're ordering our dinner at richey's bbq. i'm in flip flops, my mom is wearing knit capris, parker's in his usual 'uniform' of shorts, tee and crocs... and then there's princess chloe in her purple dress up heels, puffy ball gown, pink sunglasses and carrying her purse. "how precious. is she in a pageant?"... "um, no - this is just her friday afternoon kicking around attire."

oh, to be four again...

princess chloe on the way to nanna's

food for thought... or comfort.

"I eat because I feel bad; and I feel bad because I eat."

F.B. - Austin Powers

oh, me too, FB. me too. i haven't eaten a pink donut with sprinkles today. not yet anyway, but i have consumed:

• a cinnamon crunch bagel from panera bread
• three truffle hershey kisses [which, btw, i didn't even know existed - thanks, page]
• half of the [fantastically famous] chicken salad melt plate from the tavern - and a little more than half of the "skinny" fries that came with it
• a slice [and a half] of pound cake - the deliciously moist kind they sell at the publix bakery

and this is just in the five (yes, five) hours of my workday. add the bowl of healthy deliciousness (i.e. froot loops) w/ 1% milk i had before i came to work and you've got a recipe for a carb induced coma.

you know that verse in james... "confess your sins to one another and pray so that you may be healed"? (JAS 5:16). um, yea. that's what this blog is. a confessional blogessional. i made a little promise late last week to myself and to the Lord that i would cease looking to any outside source or substance for comfort, company, distraction, diversion. so clearly, this is not eating derived from authentic hunger. i am an emotional eater at heart. the fat girl inside of me loves to barter, trading negative emotions for food - highly caloric food. "i'll trade you this stress for that slice of cake"... or "how about this anxiety for a big, juicy cheeseburger".

oh, all the things that people use to fill the little empty places within. i could blog on about the spiritual implications and parallels, but i digress. for now, i will just be thankful my vice is food and not drugs. cheeseburgers and not crack. chicken salad and not crystal meth.

irritating variety.

the new nanos are out in an irritatingly vast array of colors. why is this irritating? because when i bought my super-cool-at-the-time 1GB nano, the only colors to choose from where black and white. the same goes for my v3 phone, my laptop, my nintendo DS. every technological gadget i own is androgynous gray, black or white and yet, every one is now also widely available in a vast array of colors - as evidenced by the display of razr's owned by the sundress mafia... all of the other girls have an irritatingly girly display of color and mine... well, you can pick it out. it's the one that looks like it belongs to a man. and yes, i'm well aware in the grand scheme of oh, say, eternity, this matters not. yet, as steffi and i love to say, "BUT STILL..."

kids say the darndest things...

i was getting ready to tuck the kids in bed after a diastrous evening and... wait... this evening. oh, this evening could/should/would be another blog in and of itself if i weren't so utterly exhausted. the preface of the evening is that chris' men's small group at church decided to move their weekly gathering for the fall schedule to tuesday evenings, thus singlehandedly jacking up the entire tuesday night schedule which was already severely overbooked with chloe's ballet class from 5:30 to 6:15, overlapping my weight watcher's meeting that begins at 6. on this particular evening - add the following: 280 traffic. pouring down rain. one ginormous explosion of pOOp ... at McDonalds... (yes, the worst mcds on the face of the planet) with NO extra pull-ups and two sticky kids covered in ice cream. and poop. did i mention the poop? i've already missed weight watchers at the point where i am rushing them home only to find that our air is out. o.u.t. STEFFI! (iwiwd) you know i cannot even breathe if it's above seventy two degrees in my house. - sigh - throes of mommyhood, tonight. i tell you. this is one of those moments. you know, not the ones you want to live in, per se. just the ones you want to live through. no kodak moments here tonight.

enough about that. as i was saying. i was tucking the kids in - or about to - when, before i even finished the sentence, "okay kids it's time for..." i could see parker already taking off, breaking into a sprint. only not for bed. for a place to hide. this is his new thing. whenever it's time to do anything: take a bath, get in the car, come to the table, go to bed... he runs and hides, laughing like a hyena the whole time. i remember the preschool logic - out of sight. out of mind. you know, like the day i hid from my mom before preschool, really truly believing that if she never found me, she'd eventually just give up and go on with her day as usual. "Parker! that is disobeying!" chloe is standing in the hallway watching all this action go down and she looks at me, knowingly, and says (as if she's appalled), "the nerve of some people". i was running after Parker as she said it. i stopped. turned around. "what did you say?"... she grinned, "the nerve of some people" she says again, dryly. "who did you hear that from?", i asked. "sponge bob", she declares, as if he is supremely wise. a proverbial dalai llama of four year olds. "the same sponge bob you're not allowed to watch?"... apparently he's the sponge bob she's not allowed to watch in mommy's presence. just like that, truth comes out. :)

and speaking of sponges, the last time we took Parker to the doctor for his check-up, chloe and i had the following conversation in the car: [pulling into the parking deck at the hospital]

c: mommy, did you remember your check card?
m: yes. do you know what a check card is for?
c: yes, to pay for things.
m: but where does the money come from?
c: the bank
m: but how does the money get into the bank?
c: mommy and daddy put it there
m: that's right. but where does the money come from that we put in the bank?
c: um... >thinking hard<> is nodding in agreement, seemingly studiously listening] ...and that's how it works.
c: but mommy...
m: yes?
c: where do sponges come from?

clearly, i'm getting through. :)

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i heart fall.

foliage in ridgecrest, nc

one would think - with my relentless affinity for all things coastal - that summer would be my favorite season. it's true that i do love summer. suntan oil on my skin. sand in my toes. frozen drink in my hand. summer fun is just that, but the summer lovin ends with the first signs of fall. and fall... it has my heart.

finally. we are knocking on the proverbial door of my favorite time of year. i was so excited to see my pal amy's blog about her latest - and might i add, adorable - fall decor. i commented to her that i've been perpetually confused about when is the appropriate time to decorate for fall. i do have to give my mama props for teaching me to put away the white shoes after labor day, but when to break out my personal entourage of scarecrows has been somewhat of a mystery to me, solved only by clues from neighboring houses. thanks to amy, i no longer have to wait or ponder... i can run right out and purchase my annual haystack and assortment of mums. [amy, why does this remind me of various other trends you started (i.e. coin rings, leather bomber jackets, MIA boots, the word "purd", etc.) - isn't it nice to see your leadership qualities still shining through in adulthood? >grin<] Oh. And here's my futile attempt at the pumpkins on the candlesticks. [yes, i still need some moss grass or whatever it is...]

how do i love fall? oh let me count the ways. that first breath in of cool crisp air; the scent of foliage; the sound of leaves crunching under my feet; the taste of mama's pumpin rolls; the roar of the crowd in the stadium; halftime shows; jeans and jackets and boots and scarves; costumes and candy corn (i actually detest candy corn, but still..); pumpkins and pumpkin pie; scarecrows and happy fall ya'll sigs; hayrides; haunted houses; fall festivals; candied apples, starbucks pumpkin spice lattes (and pumpkin cream cheese muffins!), spider cookies with the kids, thanksgiving day at the cabin; carving the pumpkin... i could go on an on.

summers end, slowly fading away until it completely pales into transparency against the colorful backdrop of turning leaves. oh, summer has it's fun - but fall... fall has my heart.

a work in progress...

i woke up early yesterday morning. not predawn early. but early for me. that familiar, quiet voice was calling me. again. most mornings, it seems i do what i can to drown it out. even if i crawl out of bed, i busy myself with distractions, chores and preparations for the day. i made my way down the stairs to my chair at the end of the kitchen table. this is where we meet. there are seasons where i come here daily. and those where i don't show up at all. our relationship is irregular. sporadic. and, like all of my other relationships with fathers and men, extraordinarily messy. i open my journal, reluctantly – not wanting to know how long it has been this time. two months. oh, perhaps i have made time in the car or as my head hits the pillow or at the dinner table to sing “God our father" with the kids, but it has been two months since i last sat down here. i shake my head before i lay it in my hands on the table.

i don’t have to speak. he already knows my thoughts. and my heart. he knows that in the quiet of this moment, i am silently pondering why he is still here… in relentless pursuit of me. why? “because I am faithful, even when you are faithless.” i am the proverbial prodigal daughter. over and over again. “it doesn’t have to be this way, you know.” anyone else would have been long gone by now having long grown tired of my inconsistencies, my broken promises, my half-hearted efforts, my failures. “I will not ever leave you or forsake you.”

i am not worthy of this love. or of this persistence. with curiosity, i open my shiny new quarterly devotional and turn to the date, wondering what it was that He had to say to me today. what was it about today’s message that applied specifically to me? see for yourself…

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Before god put Adam into the garden, he “formed” him. There’s a process of preparation God takes us through in order to make us what we need to be. But preparation takes time. God must deal with our inconsistencies, personality defects, areas of distrust, unresolved childhood issues, scars, flaws, etc. How long does it take? Only God knows. Admit it; even at your age don’t you still recognize some childish ways in yourself. Anybody else would have given up on you, but God has a plan and He’s committed to it. We should all wear a sign that says: “Work in progress. If you hire me, you need to know that. If you marry me, you need to know that.”

The Bible says the Lord “formed man out of the dust of the ground” (Ge 2:7). What’s God working with? DIRT! And the tools He uses to form you are the experiences you go through in life. They shape and alter you. And the more you keep trying to have it your way, the longer the process takes. It may take you five years to learn to quit people-pleasing, or ten years to stop feeling sorry for yourself, or twenty years to stop going back and reliving your childhood. All the while God is telling you, “Stop it,” and you’re saying, “Yeah, I know. I’m gonna do better.” Then finally a crisis hits you and the truth hits you. At that point you say, “You know what? I am going to forget those things which are behind and start reaching for those things which are before…” (Php 3:13)
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i am often reluctant to blog about my Christianity, ashamed that my own life doesn't always reflect His glory. i often feel the same way in church on sunday mornings, longing to sing his praises but feeling unworthy of doing so because of the choices i've made monday through saturday of that week. but there is one thing i have learned about our God that needs to be shared and that is that He is worthy of our praise even when we feel unworthy of praising him.

God is so faithful. even when we [read: me] are [utterly] faithless.

I am a work in progress.
If you read my blog, you need to know this.
If you are my friend, you need to know this.

and this time, i'll keep it off...

success in weight loss. my success, anyway [and i'm reluctant to even call it that] is not defined by perfection. there is no such thing as victory in the lifelong battle of the bulge. it is not a battle that can be won, but one that must be fought. hard. forever. it doesn't end when you reach a number on the scale or on the tag of your jeans. these are small victories.

this is the first time in my life that i have maintained a weight loss. i'm nearly three years into the oddyssey now. i'm here not because of small battles won. this sucess is not defined by victory. it is defined by time. specifically, by the length of time it takes to get back up after each harrowing round of defeat.

i can remember a time when one fat-laden, carb-loaded meal would send me down for the count... just like that, i'm out of the ring - and into a downward spiral that would invariably affect my next meal, day, week, month, year... until i would - inevitably - find myself right back where i began. defeated.

once i changed my perspective and allowed myself to view these harrowing rounds of defeat as part of the journey, i was able to get back up before the count was over. too often - in the walk of weight loss - and of life - and with Christ - we spend too much time and effort striving for unattainable perfection; giving up and giving in when it seems elusive. intead, what we need is time learning what to do when we fall down, or get knocked down. there are so many - too many - allegorical parallels i could delve into from this point - especially how it's the compartmentalized fat girl in me that i'm proverbially dooking it out with, but i'll digress - so, alas, i went back to my beloved weight watcher family last night, as i do at the end of every summer. they all know to expect me on the tuesday evening after labor day. my life wouldn't be the same without these fellow travelers on my journey.

sometimes, it takes me a day or two. sometimes, a week or two. but i always, always get back up. and maybe. just maybe. this time, i'll keep it off.

fruits of labor [day weekend]

i have now posted a few little photographic jewels detailing the fruits of my labor day weekend. i seriously put the labor in labor day, deciding it was high time to repaint the dining room, the stairwell, chloe's room, parker's room... need i go on?

anyone who knows me can tell you that my time management skills leave much to be desired. perfectionism and procrastination don't exactly go hand and hand, but add to that seriously inept skills of predetermining the amount of resources (both timewise and financial) that these little projects of mine consume and you've got a recipe for disaster. okay, disaster may be an exaggeration, but still - a fitting description of the condition i left my house in this morning.

every weekend is a three day weekend for me. fun fridays with the kids and half of sunday spent journeying to mecca, i rarely have enough time to do wash and blow dry my hair straight again before monday comes... why i thought an extra day would be the equivalent of an extra week, i know not. but enough about that. unimpressive time mangagement skills aside - i'm relatively impressed with my bargain decorating skills and i'd much rather blog about that.

it all started when i decided to redecorate parker's room. my little rambunctious, dinosaur loving, almost three year old boy was still sleeping in his crib... and a room full of pbk chamois lambies. granted, he is seemingly oblivious to his decor - a point which chris has reminded me often in the futile attempt at thwarting my redecorating plans and consequently, any physical assistance that might be required on his part. but, my mind was made up and perhaps, unfortunately for Parker, it was made up long before his love of prehistoric creatures became evident. i had already chosen this adorable woolrich kids collection from Target and in an uncharacteristically frugal move, began collecting pieces of it last year. i have to tell you - as an avid fan of all things pottery barn - this woolrich collection is on par with the pbk quality. it looks and feels great - and the adorable little paw print sheets are 250 thread count. this collection has adorable accessories including: throw pillow, stuffed bear pillow, bear coin bank, red lantern and matching lamp. i bought all of the pieces that were available, but had to track down the bear clock on ebay. at target i also purchased this cute little bookshelf in natural wood and these cute chalkboard bins in red for storage - that fit into the shelves. [again - so impressed with the quality of these target items! the shelves obviously hold up to 40 pounds easily!] parker's room is really coming together.

it would be coming together a lot faster - i might add - if had decided to work on one project at a time instead of adopting the "while i'm at it..." attitude. in my defense, chloe's room really did need repainting and it does look adorable in it's new shade of olympic brand 'pleasing pink' from lowe's - which lived up to its name, turning the perfect shade of pink after the second coat dried - not too harsh, not too pepto-ey. just right.

now i can focus on finishing up Parker's room over the next week or two. his walls are prepped for painting. and i'm prepped for another lesson in patience - trying to learn that i can't do it all in one day. even one very laborious labor day.