roll call

/An update to THIS post about my van almost exploding while I was driving it:

Last Friday we got the call that all the parts were in for all our recalls. Brent took the afternoon off to go and take care of it...but I GRACIOUSLY said I could handle it and handed him Becks and told him Blythe was in the bathroom and beelined for the van. kidding. sort of. Anyway, since we had so many recalls to get fixed, they told me it could take up to two and a half hours. TWO AND A HALF HOURS? < That is not exasperation. It is excitement. A family friend [one of those good ole neighbors from back in the day, actually] picked me up and dropped me off at Panera Bread where I witnessed a girl get fired, had high-fives repeatedly requested of me from a 5 year old, joined in  eaves-dropped on the best conversation a group of 8 elderly men were having ["She's a car-jacking waiting to happen" was one of the favorite things I heard], but mainly I sat next to the fireplace and read. For two and a half blissful hours.

 I secretly wish the air bag light would start flashing again.

/An update to THIS post about my struggles to potty train: 

Whew. It was funny/not-funny-at-all to go back and read that post because: 1. It was not fun. 2. I thought we had "figured it out" and thought she was done. HAHAHAHA.

She really did okay after those first 2-3 intense months. But THEN. December came and it. was. awful. It was like it was July all over again. Girlfriend just all of a sudden FORGOT how to not pee/poop her pants. I thought she was maybe sick. Or we were too busy. Or something. I had no idea what to do. And then we traveled the Springfield to visit my aunt and POOF! No accidents. What the heck? And from that trip forward, I would say she really is FINALLY potty-trained. Does that mean we still aren't careful to not make her laugh too hard? No way. But she so rarely has accidents and I so rarely think about asking her/taking her because she just tells me now that I would say we are through the fog.

My sister told me when we were in the thick of it last fall, "One day soon you will go an hour without thinking about taking her potty. And then that hour will become hours. And then days. And pretty soon it will have been weeks since an accident." To which I said, "Liar, liar, pants on fire." But she was right. Sort of. Because it didn't really feel soon, but we are here. And if you are potty training...God bless you. And I mean that from the very bottom of my heart.

An update to THIS post about me not being hip or trendy and not understanding how to wear shoes without socks in the winter:

You ladies pulled through and gave me a lot of great tips and options! I haven't ordered them yet, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to check these out:

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An update to THIS post about the using the devotional "I Can Learn the Bible" with Blythe:

I would only update a few things about this, the further in Blythe and I have gotten. I still think this is a great devotional for kids and is a super awesome tool to have and use! We love it! I would maybe edit my thoughts on the age-appropriateness: it may be/is a little bit beyond toddlers [a lot of the analogies refer to school/homework/teachers etc. and the general lesson is a little advanced for Blythe], but Blythe still enjoys it, still can understand the verses, and I am usually able to tweak the lesson just a hair for her to relate to more. I would still love if the verses weren't from the kid's bible, but when I like a different translation more I just use it. It's way cuter to hear her say "righteousMess" than "doing what is right". 

And I haven't had any trouble thinking of a small craft to accompany each of the week's verses/lessons. It's been fun! 

An update to THIS post about me taking pictures and giving stuff away:

In December I ended my giveaway month with my own personal one, giving away a mini photo session. In that post I also mentioned that I would be giving away a discount price for my blog readers and that they could lock in the price-- several of you did and I can't wait to schedule your pictures soon! [Soon...SOON! You hear that, weather?! Get warm!... though I took some of my favorite pictures ever last week IN THE SNOW, and I'll be sharing those soon. So that's always an option. I'm up for it if you are!]

All that to say, I have a list of people who locked in the 15% discount price on a session, and I got a new lens last week and I am giddy with excitement. SO I decided that if you still want a discount, just let me know to add you to the list by the end of February [which is Saturday].

Any other updates I am forgetting that you are dying to know? 

notes to self: a review

For Christmas this past year my grandma got all of the granddaughters some socks. Now my grandma doesn't just give socks, she always finds the best of whatever she is giving. And she didn't fail this year! The socks read "I am blessed" across the toes, and said BLESSED along the bottom. I had never seen anything like them, so I checked out the tag immediately: Notes To Self. The tag read: Positive affirmations are phrases that we say to ourselves to build confidence and train our minds. They work on the subconscious, which is most receptive early in the morning and late at night. At those times, notes to self products are there, improving your thoughts, actions, and performance...

I got home and put them on immediately. I don't know about you, but I think comfortable socks are about one of the best things ever, and these were some of the best socks I had had on in a long time. [The last pair that was this comfortable that I had worn was some fancy schmancy pair that Brent got me when he worked at Dicks.] So they were comfortable and reminded me I am blessed? I was sold!

I immediately checked out their website. I read their story, about how the founder/creator, Laura, dreamed up the idea of creating a product to remind people of the power of positive affirmations, and I knew I wanted to share their products with you guys.  The $10 price tag made me cringe just a bit, but they are seriously the most comfortable socks [they grip your foot in all the right places, ya know?], and they are a business that is still getting off the ground a bit, AND they are so cool that I think they are probably worth that!

I have actually been wanting to write about this sooner, but I kept waiting until my socks were clean so I could take some cool pictures...but  I never wanted to take them off to wash them. So I decided to grab the pictures from the website-- and plastic feet look way better than mine anyway! Laura generously sent me some other pairs to test out, so I could make sure the comfort level wasn't just a fluke, and I can assure you it was not! I haven't worn any other socks. And I go sock-footed all day everyday. [And you better believe I have crammed them in my Sperry's, even though you all told me it was a faux pas. ]

Check out how great these are:

Laura sent me the "great mom" socks in black, and I rarely wear black socks, but I'm glad she sent them because I feel like a better mom when I don't see my white socks getting crazy dirty on the bottom from my dirty floors ;)

There are some cool customer stories on their website about different socks. Several woman have shared about receiving the pink "I am Strong" socks as a gift to wear during chemo treatments, and how they would look at the positive note on their toes. I think that's awesome.

Graduation is coming up and I think these would be a fun pair to throw in for your graduate!

They have so many options: strong, blessed, grateful, thankful, kind, smart, courageous, awesome, creative, great mom, great dad, I love Grandma, I love Grandpa, I love you forever. 

And they even have infant and toddler socks! Would Becks not be killer in these? And how true. What a blessing that little lady is in our lives. 

And the perfect [gripper!] pair for Blythe: I am joyful! How perfectly fitting since that is not only what her name means, but also one of the traits we pray for her. 

The options are endless: crew cut, low-cut, infant, toddler, xs to xl! And be sure to check out their site because they have a few other products as well.  If you spend $59 plus, you can get 10% off with the coupon code SOCKS4EACHDAY. They also have a facebook page to check out.

I think these would make THE BEST gifts for just about any occasion.

Check them out and show your feet some love!

getting in the boat

Today I watched my oldest daughter dance and sing, and saw my younger one flap her arms along with her, sqwauking away.

And I felt it.
I viscerally felt time slipping away.

The other day we were at my parent's house and Blythe found a Popple*. My mom and dad had given it to my older sister when she gave up her pacifier. And all of a sudden here I am, with an almost three year old who sleeps at night without her very own"paci." How does time trick us?

In one moment it can absolutely stand still.  Like this scenario: I am trying to get lunch ready, Becks is crying because I can't spoon feed her while heating up chicken nuggets for Blythe, who just informed she has to go potty. I know Brent will be home at noon, and it is 11:50. But I'm pretty sure it has been 11:50 for half a century. 

I was updating Becks' baby book the other day, flipping through to locate all the blank pages I hadn't filled yet: but there were so few blank pages left.

The other day Blythe said, "I'm not too big. I'm just a little big." But she is so big. Half a second ago she was just a squirt, signing more and please, and if she's not that baby than surely she is the little girl squealing for Elmo. But she's not. She's almost three.

And as I watched her spin and sing and give so many facial expressions, it was one of those moments that I wanted to grab tightly. I felt so nostalgic for that very moment I was living, as if it had already passed.

I'm not one to wish the days away, but I'm also not one to always cherish them like I should. I'm ready to be done nursing. I'm ready for Becks to eat on her own. I'm ready for Blythe to be able to wipe her own "bum bum". But in my readiness for what's next, I don't often feel the day I'm in.

Today Blythe grabbed an old frame for a mirror that was broken and waiting to be taken out to the trash. She laid it on the ground and got "in it" and said it was her boat. She informed me she was floating to M-ville [our town]. I wanted to get the last load of laundry done while Becks was napping, but instead of informing her that M-ville wasn't a port city and crushing her adventurous heart, I hopped in. And we pushed off and set sail.

So often I choose the laundry. And that is why that moment today hit me in the gut: these days are almost gone, and before I know it I will be letting Blythe's child borrow the bike we gave her when she gave up her paci.

 My days are hard sometimes. This mothering thing is brutal. But it's also great and fleeting. It's good to have moments that remind me I need to get in the boat more often.



*

if you weren't a child of the 80s, this is a popple.
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diy : journals

I am a sucker for journals. It never fails when I clean out a tote or a closet that I find about 3 or 4 old journals filled with my ever-changing handwriting and likewise changing dreams. 

A few months ago I met with some great ladies and we started brainstorming for the women's retreat at our church. We knew the focus was going to be on prayer, and we thought it would be great if we could give all the women something to keep that could remind them of what they learned at the retreat. I was volunteered to make whatever it was we would come up. I think it was because I had to be late to the meeting. 

We tossed around bookmarks as an idea and I figured that would be simple enough to make. But then we thought it would be cool if we could give all the women some prayer journals. I thought I could figure that out. 

So I looked at a few ideas on pinterest, combined a few, borrowed my dad's paper cutter, and set to work. 

They aren't huge, but they ended up being a nice addition to the retreat, and I was able to pop in some note headers and verses our speakers would be addressing.

So if you want to make one [or fifty] of these, the instructions are fairly simply:

Cut your paper in half [hamburger style < please tell me you remember these instructions from grade school?], and and then fold your two halves in half again. I used a paper cutter to make the process move quicker, and guarantee a straight cut, but you could easily do this step with scissors. Repeat for the number of pages you want [so 10 pieces of paper would give you 20 halves which would give you 40 pages, is that math right?]

Choose some fun paper or cardstock [or even leather?] for your cover. I simply laid one of my half sheets on it and eyeballed it and cut it a little bigger.

The hardest part: hole punch. If you have one of those sweet crafting punches that can punch through a million pages at once, you're golden. However, if you're like me, this step may be a little trickier if you made a lot of pages and can't punch through them all at once. But however you do it, line your holes up and punch two holes through each page [see picture below].

Then find some fun string/twine and thread it though and tie it in the center of your journal:

Bust out your washi tape and decorate the front. Or don't. It's up to you. I tend to like my journals to have lines in them, so you could maybe try and use notebook paper for the pages if you're like me. However, sometimes it is fun to have wide open spaces… 

There ya go! It would make a fun gift or even party favor for a kid's party with little crayons or something? Have fun!

stuck

Thank you for all your kind comments and added stories on my last post. 

I have decided stickers are the worst and best thing that have happened to me lately. Nothing can simultaneously keep Blythe more occupied, while creating a never ending scavenger hunt for me.

I have found stickers everywhere:
the walls
the door frames
the windows
shelves
books
the counter
the crib
the highchair
the toilet
the remote
in Becks' mouth
on Becks' back
on my socks
in my shoes
in the washing machine
in the dryer
in the car
on my pillow
no my coat

You name it, it has been stickered around here.

I now have to do a 360 in the mirror before leaving the house to make sure I don't have twelve stickers on my behind or in my hair.

I figure stickers are pretty cheap, and they come off [most] things pretty easily [and for the rest there is goo-gone]. So I let her peel and press those stickers pretty much anywhere she can reach. Most days I do a round up at the end of the day and unstick and un-peel and un-decorate our walls and windows and counters.

I kind of hate them. And I kind of love them.

loving your neighbor

Friday I re-posted a satirical view of elementary Valentine's Days because I didn't have the mental capacity to post about the grittier, real side of love I was experiencing.

Last Tuesday my neighbor passed away. He was almost 88. But he wasn't just some neighbor-- he was some neighbor [ said like "Some Pig!" ]. And he wasn't just my neighbor since moving into this house in 2010-- he has been my neighbor my entire life.

the house on the left: Keith's, the house on the right: the home where I lived until high school

I've written before about my view from my living room,  and how every time I look out my window I am literally looking at my past onto the same street where I grew up. And a few days after April 14, 1986 when my parents brought me home from the hospital, they brought me back to this street. And they introduced me to my neighbors. All of them. Up and down the block and behind our home.

Our neighbors knew us, and we knew them. When my mom needed an extra egg for her cookies she could walk over to Yvonne's. When she needed to run an errand during nap time, she knew Kelly or Bob could pop over and hang out with me or my sister, or we could go to their house [the house where I sit and write this now]. When some kids eyed the bikes my sister and I had left in our front yard one night, Tom watched from behind his screen door to make sure the motion light would scare them away [and if it hadn't then he would have]. And when our garage caught on fire one February night fourteen years ago and the flames licked at and threatened our house, Keith grabbed his garden hose and jumped right into the action while his wife, Billie, opened their kitchen to our worried and cold bodies. When I had chicken pox Joann let me borrow E.T. and Charlotte's Web from her extensive VHS collection. Jim was happy to field worried phone calls from my mom in the middle of the night as she asked for his pharmaceutical/medical advice. Marge was always available for a great conversation on her front porch, and Janet let us have picnics under her large evergreen, its heavy branches closing around us as if we were in Narnia.

We weren't just neighbors because of proximity. We were neighbors because we chose to be.

Slowly, our street changed. People moved. Kids graduated. Some funerals were attended.

Then Brent and I had an opportunity to move back, not just to my home town, but to this very street that taught me what it meant to be a neighbor in the very truest sense of the word.

And the day we unloaded our moving truck, a 90 year old Yvonne shuffled over carrying a hot cherry pie to welcome us. And when he noticed a substantial amount of water draining into our ditch, an 80 year old Keith crept into our crawl space to see what was leaking before we got home.

Yvonne never got to meet Becks, but she held Blythe and brought us a gift at her arrival. Keith was known for doling out candy to kids, and Blythe instantly fell in love with him and his chocolate. And when we buried him on Friday, a lump caught in my throat as I thought of the stuffed red monkey and chocolate hearts he brought Blythe last year for Valentine's day. And I couldn't stop my tears as I wept over the kind and gentle man who had been a neighbor to me my entire life.

Last year on Keith's birthday [three days before Blythe's!]. We brought him a birthday card and he gave Blythe her butterfinger, as always

The funeral home is just two doors down from the house where I grew up, and right next door to Keith's.  How appropriate, that to bid him farewell we just slipped on our coats and walked right up the street as if we were paying him another visit.

I think Keith passing away caught me off guard a bit. I didn't think I would grieve that much over a man who wasn't family; a man who I could go weeks without talking to but saw almost every day driving by or in his yard. He was a kind, generous, humble man who knew Jesus. But I think the grief was thicker because it seems he is one of the last of the people who know how to neighbor well.  How to do the behind the scenes things. How to be a good Samaritan. How to look after the least of these.

Do you ever get the sense that you are just existing in your neighborhood? It is where you land in the evening, where you sleep, where you rest up so you can go live somewhere else? Keith and the rest of my childhood neighbors [and my parents] taught me that this place, this street full of homes and people, this is where I am called to really love. To be a good neighbor in ways beyond just making sure no one steals their mail when they are gone on vacation. To celebrate with each other. To grieve with each other. To put out fires and welcome babies. This is what it means to be a neighbor. This is what it means to love.

Brent and I have a long way to go, but we want to invest in the people behind the doors of these homes around us. And someday if our children move back to this street, we want them to grieve when one of their neighbors passes away because they knew him; because they loved him.

Jesus said, "Love your neighbor as yourself." I think we do a good job of going out into "the world" and trying to find neighbors to love. When Jesus said this we think He meant just our figurative neighbors. But when the lights turned off in the house across the street last week, I knew He meant our literal ones.

Keith knew four generations of my family, not because he lived next door, but because he chose to be a neighbor. 

cramming the boxes full: happy Valentine's Day!

The winner of the As You Stitch giveaway is

Jessica E.! 

Please contact me and I'll hook you up!

And remember if you still want to order, use the coupon code WORDSTHATSING on her site and get 20% off! Wouldn't this make a fun Easter gift? 

This post originally posted last year on Valentine's day.

In elementary school, Valentine's Day was tricky, man.

First you had to pick out some cool cards. Early on it didn't matter: you liked Barbies, go for the Barbie cards.

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Disney Princess was your thing? Bring on Belle:

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When you got a little older though, like 3rd or 4th grade, you didn't want all your cards to be super girly, or they had to be something that was IN. For example, these Power Ranger cards would have been perfect! [And I probably received approximately 72 of these in elementary]: 

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After picking the perfect set of cards, you had to create "the box." It had to be creative, yet you wanted it to be fairly low key. [Not like today when the more outrageous the creation, the better.] Maybe a few stickers here and there, some paint-- make it look nice without being too gaudy. Done. 

The real kicker though, for elementary girls anyway, was the actual addressing of the valentines. Man, this got tricky. Take these cards for example [Thank you, "Doug"]. I will refer to the top card as "card 1", Quail man as "card 2", and the bottom as "card 3." :

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Card one was a dangerous card. Sure, it had a fun play on words-- knight, night…haha, clever-- But there are LOTS of hearts, and Doug and Patti are clearly swooning. If you really had a crush on Henry, you couldn't POSSIBLY give him this card because he might actually think you liked him. If Shawn had a crush on you, you couldn't POSSIBLY give him this card because he might actually think you returned his sentiments. If Larry sat next to you, you couldn't POSSIBLY give him this card because it would just be awkward. You also couldn't give this to your best friend, because it doesn't express your friendship with her and you want her to have one of THE BEST cards in the entire box, or at least one of the two cards that were 4X6 in size [the other one OBVIOUSLY had to go to your teacher]! So you have to settle and give card number one to Amber-- you're friends, but not super close. Perfect. 

Card number two was a safety card. You gave any card that used the word "friend" to the guy you actually had a crush on. 

Card number three would be good for just about anyone else in the class, the problem was you needed 10 of these cards and there were only two in the box. 

See? It was all about strategy. 

But then, what if you got a box of cards that had one like this: 

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Oh Animaniacs! Didn't they know that there were SO FEW people you could actually give a "KISS ME!" card to! Yikes.

It seems that Lisa Frank always pulled through with "safe" cards though:

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But again, once you got a little older, though her neons were still pretty stellar, it just wasn't cool to give a guy a Lisa Frank card. But shhhhhh, you still wrote his name on your "cool" valentine with a Lisa Frank pencil, which you took out of your Lisa Frank pencil bag, which you stored in your Lisa Frank trapper keeper, so win-win. 

I know you were like me and had some Berenstain Bear cards in your day. Here is a little test for you, to see if you could have survived being a girl, addressing valentines, in the 90s. Which of these four Valentines would be the MOST dangerous to give your crush? The LEAST dangerous?: 

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If you're like me, the least dangerous would be the cards on the left, the top left in particular. The cards on the right are a little more explosive, and should be handled with care. Though the top one seems to be saying, "Hey you! Let's be Valentines!" They are just hanging out and catching frogs…so not as dangerous. However, the one on the bottom right? They are HOLDING HANDS!!! AHHH. DANGER! DANGER! Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT give this to the boy you like! 

Guys had it easy though. They would just pick up a box of these bad boys, slap on their classmates names in alphabetical order and call it good. 

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If you have to go back though [ya know, cause time travel],  I would recommend sticking with Disney. You usually got good variety, and had plenty "safe" cards to counteract the dangerous ones. 

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However, if you're not time traveling, and you are an elementary kid now? 

I'm sorry. Pinterest has arrived and you are now expected to be super creative:

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But really, let's be honest-- elementary guys notice ONE thing when they tear into their boxes: Starburst! A pack of gum! SKITTLES! SCORE! 

[and let's be honest, this post really goes out to all the parents and teachers that oversee this sugar-crazed disaster of a day we let our kids celebrate.

and to dentists everywhere.]

how my brain works

Tomorrow is the last day to enter THIS giveaway! 

If you are a woman or know a woman closely, you know our brains can be scary places. They never stop. Can't stop. Won't stop. It's a party up in there all the time. Don't believe me? Here are some thoughts from today:

/ While at the Doctor's office my brain was circling pretty fiercely: I wonder how often they clean the waiting room toys? I should ask them how they clean them/ if they clean them. Surely they clean them. Oh my word what if they don't clean them? There is hepatitis C on this couch, I'm sure of it. This doctor is a baby-freaking-whisperer. I wonder if he thinks I'm doing something terribly wrong? He just said "poo poo" like it was a totally normal thing to say. What leftovers do I have in the fridge to feed Brent for lunch? 

/ While driving through the parking lot the car in front of me stopped to let someone walking pass, and the man walking did the whole wave-awkardly-walk/run/skip/gallop-to-make-it-look-like-I'm-moving-faster: No one actually moves faster that way, do they? And why do people cut diagonally in front of you, like it's quicker than walking straight across? And why do we all make such funny faces when someone lets us cross? I wish it were Spring. And wouldn't walking normally be quicker than that newborn calf thing we all do to appear we are moving faster? 

/While writing this post: How do my fingers know what they are doing without me even thinking about them while I type? Ha- [remembering Blythe approaching me two weeks ago and saying, "You're a good typer, Mom."]. How do I get Blythe to nap normally again. There are stickers everywhere in my house. This chocolate is amazing. What did I just type?  

See what I mean? It's a nonstop party. I see one thing and my brain just shoots off in a million places and most of the time I'm thinking of more than one thing. I was once reading a book out loud to Brent while we were driving and I kind of chuckled at something [ we weren't at a funny part] and he asked what I could possibly be laughing at. I told him of what I had thought about. "While you were reading?" he asked. Yep. "Do you remember what you just read?" Yep.

We are amazing creatures aren't we.