All Up in Your Crazy

"I will combat my stress and heated difficult parenting moments with trips to the toilet.

I read a really darling short story about a woman who locked herself in her master bathroom happily for the weekend.  It was her own special stay-cation, complete with Orangina and crackers.

I may have to try that.  Don’t tell my kids."

 -  Jessica Patay, author of "She Runs a Good Race"

Here's my comment:
Some thoughts: I rhymed "Orangina" with vagina when I read that...and you caught me, my kids are perfect and I do, indeed, every moment of everyday, respond in godly wisdom and oozing goodness to them, like it oozes from me, from every pore...it's like I'm angelic or something.  This post has just inspired a post in my head...so I'm heading over to my blog to get my writing on, but in the meantime, you are better than me because instead of sitting on the pot to talk to God and find "poof" peace lately, I've been escaping to try to beat level "30" on Candy Crush.  And when I do sit in there a while I poop rainbows.  #isuckwayworsethanyou #youareonefantasticmama #iloveyougirl #youareawesome

My girlfriend Jess is an inspired writer, raw and authentic, and just posted some great wisdom for moms, a result of what she has been learning in "time-out"...not her kids' time-outs, but her own...where she puts herself to cool off and think it over.  The following post was inspired by her piece and actually started as my comment in her comment section, but I didn't want to hi-jack the post with a mega-comment, so, instead, here it is.

May I invite you into my brain, friend?  It looks a helluva lot like the 144 magazines on the library wall I'm sitting across from at this moment, all on different topics, each with a 100+ pages, plus advertising...and in that chaos, I get overwhelmed in my own head, want to throw everything away and live in an RV and just come visit you and drink a little wine overlooking the great Pacific.  Then Emily, excited, sweet, with the greatest of intentions, comes over to my shit-laden desk where I sit staring, wondering how I didn't get one friggin' thing accomplished all day, yet managed to stay busy anyway, and says, "Mom, can we look at organizational websites and draw up a plan of action and spend the whole weekend totally purging and organizing my room?"  And I should be excited about this because my kid wants to down-size and get organized but I'm folding 9 loads of laundry, laced with camouflage and safety orange and glow in the dark pajamas and odd numbered socks and I have 17 books home from the library that contain no pictures because they are for me to gain inspiration on how to live life free of the crazy because I actually don't care about stuff or things so organizing her room or any room in the house would look more like donating everything to the thrift and, of course, only having "7" of anything...and it's nearing the dinner hour and my personal Paleo chef decides we're having GF frozen pizzas and full-on grain nachos with dollops of dairy and leftover buffalo carnage.

And she doesn't mean anything by it because how could she know all the crazy that goes on in my head and heart on any given day?  And truth be told, her desire to purge, organize, and clean her room is evidence of her listening and letting it soak in all the times I've said, "Sweetie, more stuff doesn't fill the deepest part in our heart we're trying to fill...it's just more stuff and eventually it will overwhelm us. Less truly is more."

But the truth is I am a little kid, totally ego-centric, because I want to purge, organize, and clean up my crazy before I clean up her crazy.  I wanna be first!

And since I was just in the bathroom, I can't run there, she's got me cornered at my desk in the kitchen, so I sit on the toilet in my head go there in my head and talk to God, I'm not even 1/2 listening to her but instead breathing deeply, in my own time-out, and I repent for being selfish and ask God for grace in this moment, to let go of the agenda, my to-do list, my crazy, because I can't play level "30" to escape, and thanks to you, friend, I can't even eat chocolate or drink a little to escape because we are doing this flippin' accountability thingy, and it's good because I know and you know and we all know God truly is the Only One who can fill that deepest part in our heart where everything else around fades in importance and priority and somehow falls into place.

And so I pull her onto my lap, hug her huge with #intention, and tell her, "Peanut, I would totally love to help you with your room!  Let's get a plan and do it!"

Because spending the weekend with my pre-teen daughter, because she wants me to, is a blessing...I guess it's all about perspective.

#FirstWorldProblems, Part 2

Me:  Hi.  I'd like to cancel my massage appointment.  I have a schedule conflict.

Receptionist:  Okay.  Would you like to reschedule now for another time?

Me:  Well, let me think...I'm trying to figure out when I'm going to be really stressed out...that would probably be a good time to come in, right?!

These are actual events, people.  Hence, the continuation of the #Hashtag series: #FirstWorldProblems

In the pursuit of learning how to love myself, I made a very poor decision.  And by very "poor" I mean, shoot, this is coming out of my personal checking account, not the family funds...I had better sell some jewelry or have a garage sale or sell Emily's dog...

You see, I was given two massage gift certificates about 2 and a half years ago, right after I learned I was pregnant with Ryan.  I used one last year some time, and the other a few months ago, finally.  

It's that second one that was the devil.

The little receptionist sales girl tried to "up sell" me.  At first I held strong.  Jason has a house rule that I'm not allowed to buy anything solicited at our front door.  It was heart wrenching to turn down Thin Mints Girl Scouts at first, but time, practice, and also learning my allergies has helped me gain the confidence I need to say, "No, thanks!"  

Anyway, the massage wasn't being sold to me at my front door.  And by "massage" I mean: monthly massage membership package, blah, blah, blah, sign on this line.

You see, it's a scam.  A total conspiracy and this is how it works:  Someone gets you a gift certificate, you know, as a gift.  Then, you go in, have a cup of tea, head back to the dimly lit, perfectly heated room where you slip under snuggly heated blankies on a squishy, cushy massage bed, as you inhale relaxing aromatherapy inhalants and get an awesome, relaxing massage for an hour or so.

And this is the point in the story where you should get dressed, head back out to the receptionist, leave your gratuity at the front desk and WALK OUT THE FRONT DOOR, never to return.

In my relaxed state I don't know what the little receptionist sales girl said to me, but I was relaxed and vulnerable and didn't walk out the door.  I thought to myself:  I love getting massages.  I only ever get them on vacation.  It could be like a mini-vacation, once a month.  Remember that one in Japan where that teeny tiny woman walked on your back?  Or the one in Mexico where Julio...oh, never mind.  They are relaxing.  I only get them once a year.  If I were to splurge on one thing a month, a massage would be a really good choice...it would show me that I love me...yeah, that's the ticket.  I'm learning how to love myself...

I don't frequent Starbucks.  I might get a pedicure once or twice a year, but now that I can reach my own toes, I prefer doing them myself when I have the time.  I don't recreationally shop.  I don't buy things off the Internet.  I don't pay for Botox or even get my hair cut more than twice a year.  And, yes, this is a pathetic attempt to justify why I thought it was a good idea to sign up for a massage membership, of which I cannot back out of for a whole year!  #FirstWorldProblems

Knowing I can't back out of my agreement STRESSES ME OUT.  Ironic.  Maybe I should get a massage?

Do I realize I could use that money each month to save starving children?  CLEARLY!

Do I realize I could use that money each month to end slave trafficking?  YES!

Do I realize I could use that money each month to send underprivileged kids to school?  UM, YEAH!

Do I realize what could be done with that money each month?  We all have ideas of how it could be spent.  I get it.

And this is ridiculous.  

There is something to be said about SIMPLIFYING. DOWNSIZING. CREATING MARGIN. SAYING NO, EVEN TO THINGS THAT APPEAR TO BE GOOD.

I'm so disgusted with myself for making an emotional financial decision that I think I'll give some of the massages away...if I'm allowed to.  

Having the "membership" hanging over my head just isn't as relaxing as it sounds.

My show and tell

For my birthday in January Jason and Em wrote me a letter from Noah that said I got to pick out a special bracelet with his name on it. I searched but could not find anything that would do justice to the imprint Noah left on my heart. I am a very visual person, so I did a search on line for "sterling photo jewelry" and a site came up that is right here in the greater Denver area. It's called Kimbra Studios. Here's the link: http://www.kimbrastudios.com/ Being technically challenged, I couldn't just send the pictures I wanted via email. Em and I drove over to the store, with my computer in hand, and worked with the ladies to make the amazing bracelet you see above in the pictures. It is even waterproof, though there's no way that will be on while I swim! Anyway, I just wanted to share my show and tell. The bracelet has already started conversations where God's name was glorified and Noah's story shared.

The bracelet was completed two days before I left for Mexico. I was very grateful because I had been experiencing a time in my grief that I did not enjoy or treasure at all. For over a month Noah hadn't even seemed like a memory. The thought of him wasn't real anymore. I know that sounds strange, but I kept asking God if he really had existed in our lives. The memories of life physically with Noah seemed as if they were trapped in time and I hated each day that felt that way.

My breaking point came the first day we were laying on the beach in Punta de Mita. I had my Zune and was listening to 'Third Day's' song 'Offering'. My ears were pooling salt water but it wasn't from the ocean! I was mad that God hadn't taken me up on my offer of taking me instead of Noah. I was jealous that He was hanging out with our kid and not me! Thoughts of how noble it is that I wanted God to take me instead of Noah flooded my mind...how a child should never be buried by a parent but a child should always outlast their parent on earth...how sweet and beautiful and yummy my boy was...if I could just have a few more minutes with him...

And then the thought hit me like a whale jumping out of the ocean...It wasn't noble of me to want God to take me instead of Noah...it was selfish. Now don't get offended! I don't know of any parent who wouldn't die for their child. That is the part about parenting that is mind boggling! One day you are walking along, pregnant with a total stranger in your belly or anticipating the arrival of your very own adoptive child. You literally know your next door neighbor or the teller at the bank better than your own offspring. And then, WHAMMO! Suddenly you are in love with your kid, this little crinkly creature that poops and cries, and you know even though God says, "Do not kill", that you might consider disobeying this particular commandment, just this once...and every other opportunity that arises thereafter.

No. It's the heaven part I'm talking about here. As I laid on the beach, sobbing and missing my guy, listening to this song about offering our lives to the Lord, God showed me that it wasn't that He didn't want me, that I wasn't a good enough offering, but that His timing has more to do with life here on earth than my 10% can comprehend. By His grace, He also allowed me to see that when I continue to change my perspective to think outside the box, wanting Noah to out live me here on earth is good and noble and genuine and everything, but death in Christ is not death at all, but eternal life, and that Noah truly is living abundantly. It doesn't make me miss him less, but it's the peace that guards my heart from the enemies attempts on it.

I used to fear death. I used to think that it was the worst thing that could ever happen...then Jesus Christ's death on the cross and resurrection from the grave became a reality in my life and set my heart free.