What We have Here is a Failure to Communicate

Jack (who is 3 years old) was put on Time Out.

I will spare you the details - just know that his urine, his realization that he possesses the ability to be a human squirt gun, the cat and my bathroom floor were all involved.

Okay, so Time Outs at our house involve him sitting on his rocking chair in his room.

He sits there until I say he can get up.

The door is closed.

Talking is not allowed.

The goal of the Time Out is two-fold:

Part One: Jack will reflect on what he's done wrong and how he'll NEVER do it again.

Part Two: Mommy can retreat to her room where she can lay on the bed in a fetal position and avoid doing something that will land her on the evening news.

So back to our story...

Jack has been on Time Out for approximately 5 minutes.

I walk into his room feeling a bit calmer - happy that he is sitting quietly in his chair.

I make my way over to him and crouch down on the floor so that we are eye to eye. Jack is wearing a VERY serious expression on his face and his eyes are big.

I gently take hold of both his hands and ask him, "Are you ready to be done with Time Out?"

"Yes Mommy" came the soft reply.

"Are you going to try and go potty on BelleBelle (our cat) again?"

"No Mommy."

I begin to feel a sense of triumph. I got through to him!! He understands why he's in trouble and he's not going to do it anymore. I am SUCH a good mom. I should teach a class; or at the very least receive the much coveted Mother of the Year Award. After this victory, I am a shoe-in!

With my confidence at an all-time high, I decide that it is now time to ask the most important question.

(ASIDE: I ask this question because I think it's important that kids can contextualize the discipline they receive. If they don't understand WHY they're being disciplined, they're just going to repeat the behavior and I don't think Jack (or our cat) will survive a repeat of this particular incident. Also, I want them to know that it's coming from a place of love - not of mean spiritidness).

I take a deep breath and ask,

"Jack, can you tell me why you got a Time Out?"

I hold my breath and watch intently as Jack's facial expression changes.

(I'm very eager to hear the words that I'm certain will come out his mouth which are:
"I got a Time Out because I tried to pee on the cat. I know it was wrong and I'll NEVER do it again. Thank you for making me understand that it was wrong. I'm sorry for peeing on the cat.")

I'm still holding my breath and beginning to compile my thoughts on my acceptance speech for my now-certain Mother of the Year Award.

But wait... Something is happening.

His expression contines to change.

It becomes..... dark.

Angry.

Menacing.

He leans into me so that we are nose to nose. He inhales deeply and says with great conviction,

"I'm on Time Out..... BECAUSE. YOU'RE. MEAN."

Sigh...

(afterthought: Jack was not trying to be mean to the cat when he tried to pee on her. He said he was trying to cool her off. So don't call PETA on me.)

My Husband Thinks it's Perfectly Normal; Part I

So I've written a lot about things that I think are perfectly normal.

I thought it was time to rat out - uh... I mean share with you something about my husband.


He is terrified of bandaids.

Seriously.

He won't go near them.

He will walk around with an injury that looks like it requires stitches and will still refuse to put a bandaid on it.

He thinks it's perfectly normal.

I think it's an issue that warrants some sort of 12-step program...

For Fans of the Matrix Trilogy...

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Nordrstrom's Reject

So I'm at Costco. I see that they have swimming suits.

SIDE NOTE: I don't know that I can adequately convey my loathing of swim-suit shopping.

Seriously.

So if I need a suit and I see one - I just grab one in my size. I don't try it on (life is hard enough).

They had black swimming suits at Costco.

I walk up to the rack and reach for the suits to start browsing for my size.

About 20 feet away is the saleslady - lamenting to her co-worker about the fact that she didn't get hired as a salesperson at Nordstrom.

She sees me looking through the suits and says (from 20 feet away so it's REALLY loud) "Oh I'm sorry honey - we don't have anymore larges!"

Nice.

But wait. There's more.

I look up at her, my face quickly beginning to change color.

She continues with this.... (note that she was still 20 feet away and is still talking at full voice)

"You really look like you should get an extra large anyway. I think we have some in the back - let me page somebody for an extra large suit for you."

OH.DEAR.LORD....

I simply look at her and eek out the words "No need."

She resumed her conversation about her complete surprise at the fact that she couldn't get a a job at Nordstroms....

Yeah.

If only there had been some clue...

If You have a Problem; If No One Else Can Help; And if You can Find Them; Maybe You can Hire.... The A-Team.

I think the A-Team was one of the greatest shows of the 80s.

I was a huge fan.

My Dad was a huge fan too. We had a van back in those days. He would drive up to a curb, slow way down, have me or my brother open the side door (while he was singing the theme song at the top of his lungs) and have us jump out.

Explains a few things, doesn't it...

Anyway. I never missed it. It was on every Tuesday night at 8:00.

I even have an autographed picture from Dirk Benedict (he played Templeton FaceMan Peck). I got it when I babysat his kids.

Yeah, that's right.

I.Babysat.His.Kids.

Anyway.

It was one of the best shows ever.

Oddly enough, Dwight Schultz (he played Howling Mad Murdock) also appeared on several episodes of another favorite show of mine, Star Trek The Next Generation (he played Lieutenant Barclay).

Yeah....

The A-Team was a classic.

I Think it's Perfectly Normal; Part XXV

I will walk up to 15 extra blocks to avoid having to parallel park.

Refrigerator Revelations (GROSS)

I think that one of the reasons we go through difficult experiences is so that we can help others either avoid the same situations - or at least help them if they are going through a similar situation.

That's what this entry is about. It's me helping you. Warning you, if you will.

(Read on at your own peril and don't judge me).

The following is a list of things I learned while cleaning out my refrigerator:

1. Moldy asparagus juice pooling in the bottom of your refrigerator smells worse than asparagus pee.
2. If the expiration date on the deli sliced ham says 2/15/09, don't sniff it to make sure it's really bad; just trust that it is in fact, really, really bad.
3. Juice left behind by a bag of rotting radishes has epoxy (very strong adhesive) like qualities.
4. The jar of jam that was given as a gift in 2005 will become a permanent fixture on the second shelf if it's left sitting in the epoxy resin created by the rotting radishes.
5. When stray baby carrots get left behind in the produce tray, they shrivel up and look like funny, little orange raisins.
6. Three-year-old little boys get excited about little orange raisins - until they try one...
7. The only thing that smells worse than the garbage bag full of rotting produce, runny leftover tuna casserole from Father's Day and the mystery meat from February is that same garbage bag after it's been sitting in the hot garage for two days.
8. Cleaning one's refrigerator on a full stomach when you have a sensitive, trigger-happy gag reflex is a terrible, terrible idea.

I hope that the wisdom I have imparted on you has been helpful.

Thank you for this opportunity to share.

Touched by a (pint-sized) Angel...

Jack (who is 3) was playing on the playground at church this morning.

I arrived a few minutes early to take him to his class and was greeted by him being carried off the playground, crying hysterically.

He had fallen and scraped his knee up pretty good.

He saw me and started crying harder. He was so sad...

I picked him up and loved on him a little bit and that's when I noticed all the little kids that had followed us inside - all of them wore looks of concern on their faces. They wanted to make sure that Jack was alright.

There was one little girl in the crowd of kids who followed especially close. Her name was Lexi (she is also 3).

Lexi (seen here in this pic) taught me something today.

She demonstrated to me what it means to truly give of yourself.

Lexi has a little blanket (about the size of a cloth diaper or a burp cloth); it's her Nite-Nite. It is one of her more prized possessions. In the words of her mom, her nite-nite is her ultimate comfort. (for more detail, here's a blog post about it)

Anyway - Jack was now seated and was about to have his scraped knee cleaned (OUCH). The medicated wet-wipe touched his knee and he let out a shriek. Lexi was standing behind Jack - and as soon as Jack cried out, she put her hand on his shoulder and left it there.

At that moment I saw something in Jack's hands. He buried his face in it and he stopped crying.

It was Lexi's nite-nite.

Lexi had given Jack her nite-nite to help him feel better.

Her most prized possession.

And she gave it to Jack.

She saw that someone was sad and hurting - and needed it more than her. So she gave away the thing that matters most to her. No questions asked. She just said, "here Jack..."

I was so touched by that.

I tend to make things so complicated. I over-analyze, obsess, worry, etc. I'm ashamed to say that when I give something to someone, I have a tendency to make it more about me than the person I'm giving to.

Acts of giving should be simple. Simplicity is a natural by-product of taking the focus off yourself and putting it on the other person.

When Lexi gave Jack her nite-nite, she had no agenda, no contract stating when the nite-nite was to be returned or how it was to be used, nothing about what she wanted in return. Nothing about how she felt at all.

She simply gave it to him to make him feel better.

She didn't think about herself. She only thought of Jack.

So simple...

I made sure Jack was alright, hugged him good-bye and made my way back to the main auditorium for church. I stopped when I saw Lexi and gave her a big hug, trying to conceal the tears that were now pouring freely. I gave her a kiss and told her thank you. I know she doesn't know how much her simple act meant - but someday she will. I know that I will never forget it.

Thank you Lexi.... you made Jack feel so much better today. And you also reminded me of something so important: that I need to put others first. No questions asked...

It's that simple.

Like Father, Like Son (rated PG-13)

We were at Ruby's for lunch.

I lean over to Jack (who just turned 3) and ask, "Jack, don't you just love Ruby's?"

"Oh yeah Momma!" he said at the top of his lungs "...I LOVE boobies!"

Sigh...

A Few of My Favorite Things...

I don't have much to say right now (shocking, I know). So, I thought I'd just go with an old stand-by. Here are a few, new favorites - in no particular order...

1. The movie UP
2. http://www.istockphoto.com/
3. Epicuren facial scrub
4. The dollar aisle at Target
5. Push-pin magnets
6. The color purple (not the book/movie - just the actual color itself)
7. http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/
8. The Aflac Duck
9. Vanilla Tootsie Rolls
10. Cheap flip-flops from Old Navy
11. Otter Pops
12. Microwave Popcorn with Splenda on it
13. Mansfield Park
14. My daughter's new Chore Chart (see this post for details on why this is a new fave)
15. Comments on my blog (not that I'm hinting or anything...)
16. Pink Pearl Erasers
17. Firefox
18. Scramble on Facebook (curse you Laurel. you and your ridiculously high score)
19. Bright pink toenail polish
20. Little House on the Prairie - episode, "The Richest Man in Walnut Grove"

Well it's a Little Late Now...

There's nothing like getting critical information.... after the fact. Here are few examples of times when I've been on the receiving end of ill-timed information/advice.

1. You’re supposed to poke holes in the potato before you bake it
2. It’s not a costume party
3. Mom, I feel like I'm going to throw up
   
4. Your microphone is still on (oh man... this is a whole separate blog entry)
   
5. You're supposed to grease the pan
   
6. You should have hit Forward - not Reply (said one millisecond after sending a less than friendly email - to the person I was being less than friendly about)
   
7. May induce hyper-activity in children (I read this 20 minutes after I gave my kids Benadryl in an effort to get them to sleep through a 5 hour plane ride)
   
8. I just waxed the floor
   
9. There was a cop back there (said to me just after I caught a glimpse of the flashing lights in my rear-view mirror)
   
10. That milk is expired (spoken just as I took a big gulp)

Sigh...

Timing really is everything.

Wide My Body, Narrow My Bathroom Stall...

Spanx are the greatest invention EVER.

They are like girdles. On steroids. They can re-shape any shaped body to make it look a little better.

Body shaping garments are a life saver. They save you all that time that you would otherwise have to spend on exercising. I mean really... Why exercise when you can conceal?

But I digress.

The thing about Spanx is that they're pretty tight. So much so, that you need to allow yourself extra time when going to the restroom lest you run the risk of having an accident...

It is ill-advised to wait until the last minute to go to the bathroom when wearing a Spanx.

I really wish someone had told me this.

Let me set the stage for you.

I'm on an airplane. I'm returning from an advertising summit in New York City.

I'm dressed in a suit.

And I'm wearing a Spanx.

One other thing: I'm terrified of going to the bathroom in airplanes. Seriously.

It.Horrifies.Me.

I will do whatever I can to avoid going to the bathroom on an airplane.

The flight is non-stop.

It's 7 hours long.

I put off the inevitable trip to the bathroom for as long as I can.

But at last the moment arrives... I can deny it no longer.

I need.... to use.... the bathroom.

Right now.

I climb over the people sitting in the center and the aisle seats and make my to the bathroom.

The flight is full - every seat is occupied - including those that are up against the outside wall of the lavatory.

I slide the door open and am greeted by the teeniest, tiniest bathroom I have ever seen in my entire life. I had to walk in sideways because my shoulders were too broad to fit through the doorway.

I slide the door shut. Panic sets in (I'm unbelievably claustrophobic). Of course I'm also panicked because I have to go so bad that I think an accident is imminent.

I begin preparing myself to use the facilities - and am suddenly reminded that I have to somehow get the skin tight Spanx off - which will be quite challenging since there is not an inch of spare space around me.

I start to pull them down - but am unable to because my right elbow keeps hitting the wall of the teeny-tiny bathroom. I'm able to get the left side down - there's more room on that side because the sink is there.

But I'm stuck on the right side.

I begin perspiring.

I'm growing increasingly desperate to relieve myself and to get the heck out of the teeny-tiny bathroom.

The fact that I'm sweating is not helping my attempt at getting the Spanx off. It seems to be acting as some sort of adhesive. I manage to turn around so that I'm now facing the toilet. My right elbow now has more room (it's on the sink side now).

I wedge my thumb down between my squishy, sweaty muffin top and the top of the Spanx and pull down as hard as I can.

I hear it first - and then I feel it.

A popping sound.

My thumb.

There's something wrong with my thumb.

Sharp pain shoots up my hand causing me to lose my balance in the teeny-tiny bathroom. I begin to fall toward the toilet. I quickly jerk myself back into a standing position and spin around trying to regain my composure.

I am now facing the door - my back to the toilet. I wobble back and forth for a minute, and gingerly try to remove my thumb from its elastic prison - but am unsuccessful.

It's stuck. And I'm pretty sure it's swelling which makes the prospect of freeing my thumb less and less likely with each passing second.

I realize that I have no choice.

I grit my teeth, inhale deeply, hold my breath and yank my hand out of the waistband of my Spanx as hard as I possibly can. This causes me to slam my elbow against the wall, at which point I lose my balance again and fall face first into the door.

I see white light.

Pretty, pretty white light.

And then I hear a voice.

A far-off voice.

"Everything okay in there?"

Oh dear Lord...

"Yes - I'm just fine - thanks...." I manage to respond.

Fortunately, that last yank was enough to loosen the Spanx from its deathgrip on my sweaty, squishy muffin top.

I'm able to relieve myself.

I wash my hands - careful not to touch my steadily swelling thumb. I try to straighten my hair in a futile attempt at covering the welt that has now taken over half of my forehead.

I slide open the bathroom door - carefully avoiding the open-mouthed, gaping stares of all the people sitting there who had heard me slamming into the walls of the teeny-tiny bathroom.

I hang my head and shuffle back to my seat - and vow never to wear Spanx again.

But I got over it. Hey, anything is better than exercising, right?

Yeah.... I still wear them.

Just not on airplanes...

Kurt & Heidi

1990

2000

2009

Kurt and I started dating in 1990. We were 16 years old.

We got married in 1994.

I love him so very, very much.

Chores, Justice and Mixed Emotions

So today was launch day for Hope's new Chore Chart.

Emotions were mixed.

Kurt and I were walking around with a bit more bounce in our step at the thought of Hope becoming more responsible and doing a bit more around the house. Hope was walking around with what appeared to be the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Her new responsibilities included emptying the cat box, clearing the dishes after a meal and loading the dishwasher.

Kurt showed her how to do each job and we created a new chore chart for her.

I was in her room putting her laundry away and she walked in, mopey and despondent. She saw me standing there and cut me "the look."

Without a word she began hanging her new chore chart on the door. She asked me "Will Jack have to do chores when he gets older?"

"Yes Hope." I replied knowing where this was going.

She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "yeah right - he won't have to do any chores because I'm already doing everything."

I stifled a laugh, remembering having those same thoughts when I was her age. It was clear she wasn't thrilled with the new arrangement.

She continued her muttering as I left her a room. I could hear her saying, "I don't know what Jack's going to do - there isn't anything left to do - this is so unfair, the cat box is soooo gross..." I made my way down the hallway, rounded the corner where Kurt was standing with a big grin on his face, his eyes bright with excitement.

I thought he was going to say something like, "Our little girl is growing up - she's so responsible now - she's growing up so fast;" you know - all the things that go through a parents mind whenever their child demonstrates that he/she is growing up.

As I got closer, he started jumping up and down, the grin got bigger, he held out his hand to give me a high five and whisper-shouted "no more cat box!"

As I said - it was a day of mixed emotions.

Mmm-Hmmm... okay, that's fine.... wait, WHAT?

I have two unbelievably chatty children. They don’t even stop to inhale. They talk and breathe in at the same time. There’s no pause.

The worst is when we’re in the car. There’s this perpetual wall of noise coming from the back seat.

It’s…. well, in a word…irritating.

But the worst part is the questions. The non-stop questions.

Jack (my 3 year old) loves to ask the same question over and over and over again. He will ask you the same question until he gets the answer he wants.

So, like any mom whose sanity hangs in the balance, I have started either absent-mindedly agreeing with everything he says or saying Yes to every question he asks.

You know how it is....

There’s nothing but, “Momma can I have that? Momma can I have that? Momma can I have that? Momma can I have that? Momma can I have that?” coming from the back seat.

You feel your patience slipping away, you're about to snap. You're ready to something - ANYTHING - to make him shut UP.

You start mumbling things like, “Mmm-hmmm…. Oh wow…. Okay…. Mmm-hmmm...” just to get him to stop asking the same question over and over again - or at the very least start asking you a new question.

I implemented this method a while ago and it has been very successful for me.

Until today.

Today it all changed.

Why did it change, you ask?

Well, according to Jack, I gave him permission to become a painter.

A painter who specializes in “re-vitalizing” carpeting.

With hot pink paint.

Hot pink, Oil Based paint.

Awesome.

So I’m back to the drawing board. Any suggestions? I think duct tape would work well, but I’ve heard that it’s generally frowned upon as a permanent solution…

Sigh….

Seriously? It's an Honor just to be Nominated.... (oh please, I'd love to win)

Okay so I don't know who did this - but I was nominated for Funniest Blog in some blog contest.

I have no idea who did it - and I don't win anything except bragging rights - but I'm flattered that someone would nominate me!

So, I'm going to just put myself out there on this (since subtlety has never been my strong suit) and ask you to vote for me! Just click on the button, and then click on funniest blog. You have to scroll through the list to find my blog - it's called Life as a Goble.

So thanks! Thanks for voting for me! Oh, and.... uh..... (awkward pause).... you can vote once a day. Okay - there! That's it! I won't say any more about it. (face flushing madly).

Oh - and of course, I want to thank the Academy, the Hollywood Foreign Press, my agent.... oh wait. Wrong fantasy. Sorry.... But seriously - thank you to whoever nominated me!

Anyway - that's it - that's all the campaigning I will do. I would like to make some campaign promises, but I can't come up with any. Anyone have any suggestions?

She put the OH! in Oversharing...

Hope and I were in line at Target. We were grabbing her some art supplies – she was VERY excited.

The line was crazy long – and full of profoundly irritating people.

The lady in front of me was my least favorite. Yeah, she was a real peach. She had at least 3 items from every single aisle in the store, about 137 coupons, she was haggling with the checker about the fact that her Glade Plug in Air Freshener was on sale – and just when I thought I couldn't be any more irritated with her – she pulled out her checkbook.

Fan-freakin’-tastic.

I turned away so she wouldn't see me roll my eyes and there stood the cutest little old lady I’d ever seen in my life.

She dragged one foot a little bit and her head seemed to be permanently cocked to one side.

She looked up at me with eyes that squinted tightly and a tired smile.

“Hi Honey” she said in a tiny, shaky voice.

I instantly felt sorry for her – she looked as though she was about to collapse – she leaned heavily on her cart and let out a big sigh as she took in the overwhelming length of the line.

I noticed that she only had 1 item in her cart. She kept staring at me with that sweet little face.

I looked at her, at the line and then back at her again.

I had to do it….

I let her go ahead of me in line.

Suddenly that sweet old lady who could barely stand up was miraculously transformed into this spry little thing who deftly maneuvered her cart out of line and then back in front of mine with all the speed and prowess of a seasoned, professional HUSTLER.

Yes, that's right.

I had totally been taken.

But wait – there’s more.

Remember the peach in front of me in line? Well at this point she was still arguing with the checker about Glade Plug Ins (and still had a ton of stuff in her cart). Perfect! That meant that Lady Grifter and I would have some time to get to know each other.

She noticed me holding my ATM card and started in on the evils of technology and how big brother is always watching. Then she started talking about how our country is going to hell in a hand basket yadda, yadda, yadda. “And it’s all that Obama’s fault don’t-cha-know…” she said with great conviction.

“Oh, mmm-hmmmm….” I replied trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

To no avail…. She just kept talking.

Back to the technology topic.

“Yeeeeees, technology is just an evil force in this world – well, except for that brilliant little pace maker my doctor gave me about 2 years ago.”

Oh crap – we are now in an area that I don’t like to broach with old (over 80) folks: their medical procedures.

“Laaaaaaand sakes, my doctor told me that I would live to be a 100 with this pacemaker! Of course I told him I don’t want to live to be a 100 what with that horrible Obama running things…”

Sweet! She jumped back to politics – I thought maybe I was safe.

“But he told me that it wouldn’t hurt a bit and he was RIGHT!”

Wait – Obama told her it wouldn't hurt? Well, he is on that whole socialized medicine thing - I could only pray that that's what she was referring... Sadly Obama's plan was NOT what she was referring to.... Dang it! We were back to the Medical Procedures.

“Oh my stars – it was the easiest thing ever! And such a tiny little incision!”

Okay – at this point, I should have just fled. I should have left my cart in the aisle and run away without ever looking back. But I had Hope’s art supplies in the cart and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that buying her art supplies wasn't worth enduring Lady Grifter's stories about her old, wrinkly body.

I stood my ground.

“Yeeeeees, the incision was just the tiniest little thing you’ve ever seen – just look at it!”

And without missing a beat, she whipped out her left breast and shoved it toward me.

I stood there, frozen, helpless, horrified, without words.

She stood there, proud as could be, saggy breast tissue hanging over both sides of her hand.

Hope stood there, mouth wide open, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

It even got the attention of the peach in front of us who was just now signing her check.

“Just looooooook at it!” crowed the old dingbat.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

“Yes – I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like it.” I responded weakly.

Hope finally found her voice and said “Mommy is that a nipple?!”

"Once upon time, it was honey… Once upon a time it was."

Peach finally finished her transaction, Lady Grifter shoved lefty back into her blouse, I pulled out my spare smelling salts from my purse - and we all advanced one space in the line.

I learned something that day... well, let's face it - I learned a LOT that day.

But the biggest lesson I learned was that little old ladies are not to be trusted.

Money.

Like everyone, occasionally we have money trouble.

This pay period is tight. I mean - really tight.

I fell asleep worried and frustrated about it last night.

I woke up this morning to Hope curled up on the bed next to me, her head on my shoulder - she was sound asleep.

Jack was on the other side of me, curled up in a ball, pressed up against my back - he was rubbing my arm and whispering, "My snuggle with you Momma..."

Money trouble?

When it comes to what matters, I've won the lottery.

Shut up, Jack.

I'm in my room, changing from work clothes to comfortable clothes. Jack is with me (for those of you who don't know, Jack is my 3 year old son).

I'm standing there, facing my closet, reaching for my sweats (at this point I have just thrown my work slacks in the hamper).

I feel something repeatedly poking me in the back of my upper left thigh.

It's Jack. He looks very concerned.

He continues his prodding and says, "Your bum-bum is all bumpy Momma. Whatcha got in there?"

Shut up Jack.

Small Enough

Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now

There were times when I was crying From the dark of Daniel's den

And I have asked you once or twice

If You would part the sea again

But tonight I do not need a fiery pillar in the sky

Just wanna know You're gonna hold me if I start to cry

Oh, great God, be small enough to hear me now

Oh, great God, be close enough to feel You now

There have been moments when I could not Face Goliath on my own

And how could I forget we've marched around

Our share of Jerichos

But I will not be setting out a fleece for You tonight

Just wanna know that everything will be alright

Oh great God, be close enough to feel You now

All praise and all honor be

To the God of ancient mysteries

Whose every sign and wonder turn the pages of our history

But tonight my heart is heavy

And I cannot keep from whispering this prayer

"Are You there?"

And I know You could leave writing on the wall

That’s just for me

Or send wisdom while I'm sleeping,

Like in Soloman's sweet dreams

But I don't need the strength of Samson

Or a chariot in the end

Just want to know that You still know how many hairs

Are on my head

Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now

~Nichole Nordeman’s “Small Enough”

UP

Hope and I went to see this movie today.

We both loved it.

I highly recommend it.

Prepare to shed a tear or two.

Prepare to laugh out loud.

Prepare to be moved.

It was a great movie.

Fight the Future? Nah......

Heidi in 30 Years...

Random Motherhood Confession #2

So what is my confession? My confession is that I have no idea what I'm doing.

And I'm afraid that I'm failing miserably.

Jack is sick again. This is the 4th time in 5 weeks.

I work full time.

I feel like like a complete failure when my child gets sick and I find out about it from his daycare provider. I should have known he was sick because he should have been with me.

I hate that I heard about it from someone else.

The reality is that I have to work.

And I'm thankful for the ability to work and for the fact that I have a job.

But right now I feel like a failure in all aspects - as a Mother and as a professional.

I'm not at work because I'm home with Jack - so I'm failing to meet expectations at work.

I wasn't there when Jack got sick (it happened at daycare while I was on my way to work) - so I'm failing to take care of him when he needs it most.

I'm at a loss.

I have no idea how to balance being a mom and working. You'd think I would because I've been doing it for almost 8 years.

And I still have no idea what I'm doing.

And I'm afraid I'm failing miserably.

Visual Guide for My Rules on Personal Space

So which sphere is appropriate for you?

Intimate?

Personal?

Social?

If you don't already know the answer to that question, then I can assure you that the answer is Social.