tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2960606911960831302024-03-14T02:30:25.062-07:00Call Me MumsyA blog about family, photography, life & faith. The good, the bad & the ugly.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-16797116218200759332015-01-21T22:07:00.001-08:002015-01-21T22:44:16.955-08:00Wrestling. The New Year is always such a great time of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>reflection</i></span>. I think if we are honest with ourselves, most of us do some serious reflecting and decision making around this time of year. I also know that within months or maybe even weeks, the 'new me' begins to fizzle out and I forget about all the changes or new things I had on that list, including the exercise part (FOR THE LOVE!). I know this is because I'm the queen of <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">good intentions</span></i>, people. The. Queen.<br />
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I haven't forgotten 'my list' yet and frankly, I don't think I can. Why? I'm <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">wrestling</span></i>, y'all. And not Sumo style. Oh, the wrestling I am doing. The Holy Spirit just keeps tapping me on my shoulder. Tappity tappin'. A few times I've just wanted to shout back, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>I KNOW ALREADY!</b></span>". Because, you know, conviction and all.<br />
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I'm not sure the good folks at Kroger are quite ready for my brand of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">crazy</span> at this time. Or ever.<br />
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The Lord has been dealing with me on many things in my life, but one little sticky area that just KEEPS coming up is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;"><i>HOSPITALITY</i></span>.<br />
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Now, for those of you that know me (like truly KNOW me), know that I'm one of the most <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">social </span>people you have ever met. I could talk the hind legs off a donkey, so to speak. (Don't you just love Southern idioms? For real, though!). I truly don't know a stranger and one would think that could easily translate into natural hospitality, right?<br />
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Not so much.<br />
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The jig is up, y'all. Here it is for all of the Internets to see...my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>confession</i></span> of why hospitality is so hard for me. Ready for this?<br />
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My house is dirty. Because people live here, don't y'all know this? My <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i>pride</i></span> is bigger than my desire to be obedient to Jesus and so I choose to marinade in my stubborn will and not invite people over because, for the love, can these children NOT pick up a dang dirty sock already! And that is the truth.<br />
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I don't want anyone to see that I have dirty dishes <i>ALL THE FLIPPIN' TIME</i>! Or that my floors haven't been mopped in weeks. Or that I have paper piles on my counter, my table is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">sticky</span>, my windows have fingerprints, or there's dog hair on the couch and what will people think of me for letting the dog on the couch? But I keep a sheet on it so that's okay, right? Oh and there's marker on the walls from 3 year years ago, drawers are broken in my kitchen, the ice maker on the fridge doesn't work, our bathroom sink fixtures are outdated and gross, my ceiling fans have an inch of dust on them.... and the list goes on and on. And yes, this is how my brain works. Scary, right?<br />
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<i> My desk. Mercy.</i></div>
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An endless myriad of <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">excuses</span></b> that I try and justify over being obedient to what Jesus truly wants for my life.<br />
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We've lived in this 35 year old house for 19 years. We have raised 6 children here, with 4 of them still here and 3 of those 4 not leaving any time soon. We have <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>stuff</i></span>. Or crap. Whatever.<br />
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The point is this...if I am constantly waiting for the right time or the perfect house in which to invite people over to then I'm missing SO many opportunities for true gospel community. I'm missing shared <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">laughter</span>, shared <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">tears</span>, shared <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">stories</span>.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">Shared LIFE</span>.<br />
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And I'm tired. Tired of wrestling against this. Tired of telling the Holy Spirit to get lost when I'm reminded time and time again that this life is<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> not </span>about me. It's just not. It's about sharing life with others and loving others and showing people how <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Jesus is SO good and He is worth sharing</i></span>. Worth talking about. Worth choking out this cancerous pride with humbleness and laughter and food and community. <br />
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Jesus is working this (amongst other things) out in me and has been for months now. It is at the forefront of my brain every day. What does this hospitality look like for me? Us? Our family? I truly don't know. I have no idea if people will be in my home all the time or if just the simple act of saying, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">yes, Lord. I'm willing</span>.", is all that's being asked of me. I highly doubt it's the latter and I'm okay with that. What I do know is that having the right heart about this has been hard. No wait ....HARD. I won't deny it. But I do know this... obedience, while sometimes painful, WILL bring <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">joy</span>! <br />
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And I look forward to finding joy and peace with this hospitality gig. I mean for real...the house can't be a mess forever. <br />
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<i>And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. Phil 1:6</i></div>
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-89505325344148266732015-01-01T20:16:00.000-08:002015-01-01T20:16:32.006-08:00New Year ThoughtsNew year. New thoughts. After over a year, right?<br />
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It was time, y'all.<br />
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It was time to write some thoughts, bare my soul and feel all the feels. I needed to write. Because in all honesty, sometimes I feel like if I don't write then there is a part of me that curls up into some sort of creative coma. Never quite dying, but not living either. And then I become afraid to write because I have an irrational fear of all the imaginary Judgy McJudgersons out there analyzing my every dot and tittle.<br />
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Whew. It's hard to be me some days.<br />
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Also, I have many people in my life who are complete and total wordsmiths. The words they write seem to come so effortlessly, like milk and honey flowing from their seriously passionate souls. With inspiration and deep thoughts...DEEP thoughts, y'all. And I tend to write about one (all) of my girl's ability to make armpit farts with a straw. I respect those who can write so well. It's a gift. Truly. And maybe...just maybe I'm a <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/skosh" target="_blank">skosh</a> jealous. Mostly because I just long to write, but honestly don't feel like I always have the time. Or the talent...which is a whole 'nother therapy session right there.<br />
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So now that I've hopped down that bunny trail, lets talk about the new year. <br />
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Okay wait..I need to rehash 2014 for just a second.<br />
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So much has happened over the past several years. Monk being unemployed for 16 months and although he now has a job (and we are SO grateful for something), it really doesn't pay our monthly bills. There's always still the struggle, the juggle, the constant doubt in the back of our minds if we will make it this month. That's a hard place to live for a long time.<br />
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But you know what? Jesus has been SO faithful! So unbelievably good to me. In the midst of all of this, He gave me joy. JOY! I didn't recognize it at first, but as 2014 clamored on, I realized that in spite of all the things that have happened, all the stress, all the struggle, I still have JOY. And every time we would be faced with yet another stressful financial situation, I could rely on that joy to be there for me at some point. It came down to one thing for me. Trust. Could I trust Him to be faithful and see us through yet ONE more situation.<br />
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And He DID, y'all. Every time. I can't tell you how many times our house has been in jeopardy. Even up for auction not once, but TWICE! People driving by our house, taking pictures of it, like vultures circling a dying animal, waiting to get the chance to bid on the place we call home. It was hard. (And we won't talk about the time I went out and stood on the front porch and STARED down some woman sloooowly driving by and she abruptly drove away...ahem). But once again, He was faithful.<br />
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And NOW we can move onto the New Year.<br />
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Can I just be honest? Can I say what I want to say about this beautiful new beginning without it sounding trite?<br />
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Remember when we were kids and during some sort of game, something would go awry and we would call out, "do over!'? It was no big deal, we just forgot about whatever it was that interrupted our game and simply started over. That's how the New Year works for me.<br />
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Every day, we get new mercies. Lamentations says that GREAT is His faithfulness. So if every single day we get new mercies from the Lord, I tend to look at the New Year as one, big clean slate of God's great faithfulness. I realize that's never implied or suggested in the verse, but in all honesty, the New Year always feels like one great big DO OVER!<br />
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And for our family, our do over? I just want more Jesus for us. Is that too easy? Is it too trite? Is it an easy out to a deeper question? <br />
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We would give more, serve more, help more....love more. How would that look? I mean think about it...how would that look? Even if 5 or 10 people you know really lived that way. I am privileged to know people who DO live that way and they have been such a testimony to me. I'm not talking about Jesus 'talk'. I'm talking about getting our hands dirty sort of love. Loving the unlovable, getting our heads out of the sand concerning the things going on in our own communities. Stop wrapping Jesus in some name brand package that's only unwrapped on Sunday and truly being the every single day Jesus of the bible that helped the poor, the sick, the hurting... I want my children to know that Jesus. The one that showed me JOY last year. The one that showed me that in every single circumstance, He is faithful.<br />
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2015 is a do over. A clean slate.<br />
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And today is page 1 of the new story we begin to write.<br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-16459537424025563632013-04-17T21:50:00.001-07:002013-04-17T21:50:18.387-07:00The Good, the Bad and the Downright Ugly.I just need to say it...<br />
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I'm discouraged, y'all.<br />
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For the first time in 7 months, I am really discouraged. I can only imagine how my husband feels. I woke up this morning and I knew it had hit me and I've just struggled all day long.<br />
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(In case you haven't figured it out...I'm starting with the 'downright ugly' portion. That's for the slow folks in the crowd.)<br />
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I'm not saying I'm mad at God because I'm not. Not in any way, shape or form. If anything, I feel as if my relationship with God has grown exponentially through this trial. He is good. All the time. Period. He has grown us, He has proved Himself faithful over and over again. He has opened our eyes in ways we never thought possible. Our selfish hearts have been changed for good and we honestly are thankful for it.<br />
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Before all of this happened, I prayed for Jesus to change my heart. To not only make me love Him more, but to make me burn with a desire to love Him and serve others.<br />
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And that's what I get for praying.<br />
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Relax...I'm kidding.<br />
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I won't say that I regret this whole job situation happening. I just won't. It has done too much good in our lives. A good that we want to carry on, pass along and use as a testimony to God's goodness. And I believe with all of my heart that we will be able to share our experience with others for no other reason than to give God the glory for all of it.<br />
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But today? I'm tired and I'm discouraged. I've picked up some extra work other than photography to help and try get our house payment under control and I am just physically worn out. I cried and prayed on the way home from a session today, begging God to show my husband a job soon. Very soon. My spirit is waning and my body is weary.<br />
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And that's just me. You can only imagine how Monk feels.<br />
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The other morning I got into the burb to leave for this extra work I'm doing, when he came out to me to kiss me goodbye. He then looked at me and told me he was sorry. Sorry. I wanted to weep. I hurt for him. I hurt every day for him. He wants to work and I am beyond thankful for that. He is not only feeling lost and discouraged, but I can tell he's just anxious. Anxious for answers, not understanding why nothing is happening on the job front. It's completely new territory for him. Have I told you he's not a very big fan of change?<br />
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Anyway, please continue to pray for us. Pray specifically for him to find a job...SOON! Pray for our spirits. Pray that we can get out house payment under control. I can't even entertain the idea of losing our home. I realize it's becoming a possibility, but I can't even let the thought enter my head. I've raised my children here and I won't give it up easily.<br />
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So that was the downright ugly. Do y'all even want to hear the bad?<br />
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My garden has not grown one, single iota. As in nothing. We had a late freeze that took out all of my tomatoes. One little straggler has decided to pull a miracle and has come back to life. I've named him Lazarus. My sugar snap pea survived, but N-O-N-E of my seeds sprouted. My hillbilly ancestors are rolling in their graves.<br />
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However.<br />
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This could be because every dog known to man ran through the garden while it was still fragile. Maggie dug in it. A stray dog peed in it. And laid in it. Our gardening failures are starting to rack up and it is ticking me off. Anyway, I'm hoping to perform some CPR this weekend and see what I can manage to grow in spite of the dog's best efforts to kill it.<br />
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And now for the good stuff. The very, very good stuff!<br />
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I love to read, y'all. I haven't had much time to read, but I do love it. I like fiction (Stephen King is one of my favorites because I am a freak like that), biographies, books on health and many others. About the only thing I don't read is books on organization. Those books are written by Type A personalities and my free-wheeling, color loving, creative, ADD brain just can't deal with it.<br />
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Take one look at my house and it's evident.<br />
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But THIS book! This book is wrecking my life! In a good way!<br />
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<a href="http://jenhatmaker.com/blog.htm" target="_blank">Jen Hatmaker's blog</a> is one of my very favorites to read. And her FB page is pretty awesome too. Why? Because she speaks truth! In love and hilarity. She's brutally honest, she's real and she will have you doing the ugly cry in 2.7 seconds. The book couldn't have come at a better time for me. It has been a bright spot in a dark place. It's content is serious, but it has taken my focus off of my situation and put in on my heart.<br />
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I'm not gonna lie. It's radical. It will absolutely make you do a double take at the way you have viewed and treated your Christianity. It will make you ashamed. It will inspire you. And it will make you laugh. This girl? She's good people and I'm going to claim her has my little sister I always wanted.<br />
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Go read it. You won't regret it.<br />
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I am, however, going to regret staying up this late. I have to get up and go to a real world job in the morning. I am so not the 9-5 girl. I like my mornings slow. I like to stay in my jammies and drink coffee until 11. Now I have to be up, bathed, dress and out the door before 8:30.<br />
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It goes against my very natural, y'all.<br />
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That's the nice way to say...I'm not a morning person.<br />
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And as always....live long and prosper.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-86722392718228592092013-03-17T19:33:00.002-07:002013-03-17T19:52:51.142-07:00Why So Serious...and other Wondrous UpdatesIt has occurred to me while looking through the past few blog posts here that I've been relatively serious. This struck me as funny. Not funny 'haha', but funny 'strange'.<br />
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For any that know me (which is mostly those that read here), realize this is mostly out of character for me as I am normally the most immature 43 year old in the proverbial blog room. And I really am. I try to follow my writing instincts and for some reason they have not led me down the path of humor. </div>
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This doesn't mean that plenty of funny doesn't happen in my every day mommy life because it does. Every single day my kids do something that makes me laugh. Or swear, but that's mostly under my breath and I would never say it on here. It just seems that as I open this blank page to write, my funny bone chokes. Or perhaps it is being choked by some more mature part of my brain that is tired of not being taken seriously. I have no idea, to be honest. But frankly, the mere thought of there being a battle in my brain between the forces of my overly immature funny bone and some random mature area of my brain, amuses me to no end. </div>
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And immaturity prevails once again.</div>
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I wanted to give everyone a quick update on the Ye Olde Job Front. I don't always enjoy sharing on Facebook because I feel as if it can seem 'too' public. So, my logic says, "let's put it out on the Internet for the whole world to see because that's better!". Clearly, logic is not my strong suit. </div>
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Anyway....there is still no job for my husband. He has now put out around 50 resumés with only 2 interviews. And both of those interviews told him they would let him know either way if they would hire him or not. Unfortunately, neither did. :( It's a hard thing to sit around and wait like that.</div>
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I have run the gamut of emotions over the last six months, but I find that the most prevalent word to describe this time in our life is peace. Yes, peace. It is a peace that can only be described as Supernatural because y'all, I am not only a lifelong member of Worriers of America Club, but I could be their president. The peace that I've had is seriously amazing. A God-given gift when I needed it most. </div>
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It's interesting though, the longer Monk is out of a job, the more I dread when he will have to leave again for 8+ hours a day. I'm secretly hoping for a work-from-home job. He's done that for most of our marriage anyway and while there are days I want to throat punch him, for the most part I love having him around. </div>
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Immaturity begets immaturity and we, my friends, are a power couple.</div>
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Again, many of you know that my Maddie left for Africa at the end of February to serve in an orphanage. She's been there 3 weeks now and will be returning this coming Saturday! </div>
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I've had 2 phone calls from her - one lasting 2 minutes and one lasting 40 minutes! She is IN LOVE! She loves those sweet little orphans so much. She told me she cries at the thought of leaving them. She spent one day hiking in the jungle (while singing, "In the Jungle") and other random Lion King songs ... an adventure she will never forget, I'm sure. She's ridden on sketchy motorcycles, been sunburned while taking older girls from the orphanage swimming in a sketchy pool and been the only white girl playing in a soccer game with a group of Africans. Her latest escapade ended with her getting hurt when she took a well kicked soccer ball to the wrist. White girl got no game.</div>
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Oh, my girl. I know where her heart is. It would not surprise me at all if she ended up in Africa some day. She has such a love for those sweet babies. I know Jesus is doing great things in her heart and there is NOTHING that could bring a mother more joy then to know her child is seeking God's will for her life.</div>
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Unfortunately, she also has a love of delicious hamburgers and Sonic cherry limeades, both of which has been her first meal request for when she returns. HA! She texted me the other day that she was willing to kill a small animal for some chocolate.</div>
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She is her mother's daughter.</div>
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This week was spring break for our girls and we managed to get our ENTIRE garden planted. This is a feat that has never been accomplished by March 16th in the entire history of the Monk marriage. </div>
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Last year I planted some things in...um...May. Most people were getting their first crops of squash and tomatoes and I was...well...slacking. </div>
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We planted watermelon, cantaloupe, zucchini, yellow squash, 4 varieties of tomatoes, sugar snap peas and some herbs. I'm most excited about the tomatoes and the sugar snap peas. I have no idea why, but I am. I think that getting excited about your garden vegetables is some rite of passage into the You're Getting Old club. </div>
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My friends, I seem to be excelling in this area.</div>
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Tilling the garden was quite the adventure this year seeing that Monk and I both forgot how to operate the tiller in what we like to call...the RIGHT way. I decided on Monday that I was just going to get out there and DO IT! It sounds like I could be a representative for Nike, but trust me, had Nike seen my tilling performance they would have just probably sent me to the producers of Jackass. </div>
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<br /></div>
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After nearly pulling my arms from their sockets multiple times and then running the tiller into the fence even more times, I had to ask for Monk's help. I didn't want to watch his attempt since I watched him lose his drawers while tilling 4 years ago and that's the kind of thing no one ever wants to see twice. While the tiller didn't pants him this year, it certainly didn't play nice.</div>
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<br /></div>
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That's when he realized we were doing it wrong.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The next morning we both woke up and cried. My spine had been twisted like origami and while I'm sure it may have looked like a beautiful swan on the inside, I looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame on the outside. </div>
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<br /></div>
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We created a new dance that day. It was called the Shuffle and Moan. Top that off with hot coffee and large doses of ibuprofen and we rocked it out.</div>
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We kept it up the rest of the week and managed to finish without the use of a morphine drip. I still have some planting to do this week, but most of it's minimal. I also plan on visiting the chiropractor in the morning. </div>
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Is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rack_(torture)">The Rack</a> still available?</div>
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*******************</div>
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One of these days I'll try and post on a regular basis again...but I wouldn't expect it any time soon. </div>
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And as always....</div>
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Live long and prosper.</div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-79794764419457446072013-01-16T21:25:00.000-08:002013-01-16T21:25:41.751-08:00Change.Change is one of those words that has a few too many meanings to post. Good 'ol dictionary.com has the low down <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/change?s=t">here</a> if you'd like to go read the 152 meanings...or maybe just 38.<br />
<br />
<i>Change</i> can be used as a noun or a verb and right now we are experiencing both grammatical facets of that little word. We have incurred change (n.) in that our lifestyle has changed dramatically and we are experiencing change (v.) in that we, ourselves, are changing. And if you have to think about that too long it will make your brain hurt.<br />
<br />
Ow. That was my brain hurting.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><span id="hotword"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Change can be a good thing. Change can be a bad thing. Change can make you grow or it can make you shrivel up in a corner and suck your thumb.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">I've thought and done all of these things over the course of the last 3 months, but right now I'm in the corner sucking my thumb. And that's not necessarily a bad thing, it's just where I am at this point. I don't plan on staying here.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Because nobody puts baby in a corner. Okay, okay...I couldn't help myself.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">There has been a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">lot</span> </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">of change in our lives here in Monklandia over the last several months. I mentioned some of it in my last post...umm...3 months ago.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">The biggest change is that Monk still has not found a new job. When I typed those words in my last post, it seemed like such a temporary thing. A hiccup in our lives that would be short-lived and solved quickly. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Now, 3 months later, it actually brings me physical pain to even type it. Stick a searing hot poker up your nose into your brain and that's pretty much how it makes me feel.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Daily, I watch my husband get up, take a shower, dress, then head to the computer to check his email in hopes that someone has responded to his applications. It wasn't so bad at first, but now I see him crumple a little more every time. And that breaks my heart, y'all. He is a good man. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">He is a man that thrives on routine. Whereas his wife lives in a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants, eating butterflies and pooping </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">ra</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">in</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">bo</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">ws</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">sort of world. You see where I'm going with this, right? He needs a routine lest he be consumed by my level of crazy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">So the change in the job situation has dictated a change in the financial situation. I'm not going to say much about this except for the fact that unemployment funds don't take a family of 6 very far at all. At all.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">And the fact that we aren't already sunk financially is solely because of Jesus. He has sustained us and provided for us in ways that blow my feeble mind and convict my sinful, wayward heart. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">One family (whom we've never even </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-family: verdana;">met!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">) sacrificially gave us money because they felt led by the Lord to do so. That amount of money? It was within a few dollars of our exact house payment.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">We've had friends just give us random amounts of money during times we were running short, but never even shared with anyone. We were given a stove when ours broke. Hope and Charlie's school will not even consider letting me withdraw them (I've approached them twice now)...they just tell me not to worry about it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">I'm humbled and amazed by the provision. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">The change in the job/financial situation has brought about a change in our attitudes. See the whole noun vs verb thing going on? I know it's confusing and frankly, this is why my brain hurts.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">God has used this time to shape us, humble us, strengthen us, encourage us, use us ... change us. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Our faith has been strengthened, our commitment to one another and our girls more determined and our resolve to lead a simpler life sealed. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Ultimately, we have learned that things do not matter. People do. And Jesus matters most.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Now doesn't all of that sound lovely?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">So why am I shriveled up in a corner sucking my thumb? Figuratively speaking, of course. Otherwise that would be weird.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Because no matter how much I rattle on about faith and strength and how much I love Jesus....some days I'm just scared. And worried.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Today has been one of those days. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">I'm consider myself a happy, positive person. I like to think of ways to keep our family afloat and how to make our food stretch further, ways to encourage my husband in his disappointments and how to garner more photography business. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">But some days the unicorns and butterflies turn on me. Some days my rainbow laden world is gray and lifeless and things go from being a vibrant technicolor to just plain old black and white. Or worse yet...gray.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Some days I'm angry because I don't understand. I'm selfish because I want 'things'. I fight old demons and think we're being punished for some unknown sin (old fundamental Baptist habits die hard, y'all).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">It's hard for me to admit that. Because admitting that means that my faith sucks and that all of this talk of Jesus and provision is just empty chatter, right?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">No, it doesn't. It means that I'm a sinful human being in need of grace. And I'm so very thankful that His grace is available to me. Every day. All day. Any time I need it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">Today has been hard. I imagine that the further and further we get into this jobless situation, that more and more these hard days will come. Especially when the phone rings off the hook with people wanting money. Or watching Monk's disappointment day after day. Or wondering if we will lose our home, after all. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">These are real things. They are real concerns. I expect our faith to be stretched beyond what we think we can handle. And that terrifies me if I dwell on it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">I try and remind myself that Jesus hears me when I don't know what to pray (Rom 8:26). He provides for His own (Matt 6:26). He tells me what my mind <i>should</i> be thinking about (Phil 4:8). Lastly and probably my favorite of all, each day is a fresh start (Lam 3:22-23).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">I am not consumed because His compassion's </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">never</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> fail and His mercies are new </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">every</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> morning. Because </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">HE</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> is faithful.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">How can that not give us hope?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">So while this is a hard time of <i>change</i> for us....ultimately, it will <i>change</i> us. It will be interesting to see where it all leads.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">I know what my heart wants for our lives, but I don't yet know God's plan for our lives. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">And that my friends .....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">...means more change.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQ8TZb_PH_x-U4oHH7NxE5qjeidr7-MR344vkBVYvS9cG8wd93_fOPm2yYVA7EcxSFGM5HbxPm4Cwfh8I4ON2WRV2nxhyUChl5bG80-XBn6FxRq9BKkg6jPG28rKGTsbi5ahls4-8y4mN/s1600/6-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQ8TZb_PH_x-U4oHH7NxE5qjeidr7-MR344vkBVYvS9cG8wd93_fOPm2yYVA7EcxSFGM5HbxPm4Cwfh8I4ON2WRV2nxhyUChl5bG80-XBn6FxRq9BKkg6jPG28rKGTsbi5ahls4-8y4mN/s640/6-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;">(This is how Maggie feels about change)</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-35123599187622526792012-10-04T23:46:00.002-07:002012-10-04T23:46:47.204-07:00Big Stuff...I have such guilt over the fact that I haven't written here in so long. Not that I'm obligated to do so, but more so over the fact that I was so excited about once again documenting our life and then I just .... didn't.<br />
<br />
It wasn't so much so that I didn't want to. I mean after all, I still have about 4 blog posts sitting in my queue. It's more that time once again got away from me and once again, I just can't manage a business <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and </span>a life.<br />
<br />
So here I am. It's 1:00 am and I find myself tired and restless. Not sure if my desire for sleep or my desire to talk is more necessary. And I guess in this instance it would be my desire to type. Either way... girlfriend has <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">got</span> to get some words out! <br />
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I am happy to report that the Lord is at work in my life. He's at work in my family's life as well, but this post is specific as to His work in my own life. <br />
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This is a big deal, y'all.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say that I've spent possibly the last 4 years being angry with God. Not angry enough to walk away from my faith, but angry enough to avoid a meaningful relationship. Angry enough to not pray. Angry enough to not read His Word. Angry enough to avoid any sort of spiritual encounter. If Jesus were on Facebook, I would have unfriended Him.<br />
<br />
In case you missed it...I was a little angry.<br />
<br />
As in all cases with Jesus, it was all a part of His plan. He was getting me to where I needed to be so He could do His thing. Part of that was getting Monk and I into <a href="http://www.therootedchurch.com/">a church</a> where we just heard the Gospel. Nothing more, nothing less. His Word. God Breathed. It was through the teaching that my heart began to soften and walls came down. The fists unclenched and my heart began to heal. And let me clarify...by teaching, I mean actual teaching from the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Word</span>. Not topical 'how to live your best life now' sermons. I'm talking honest to goodness exegesis of the Bible.<br />
<br />
During this last year and under that amazing biblical teaching was when the decision came to step away from <a href="http://www.michellemonkphoto.com/">my business</a>. We were in the book of Jonah. And all along I thought Jonah was just about a fish. Who knew?<br />
<br />
And that decision was a catalyst. Jesus became real to me again. Prayer became real to me again. The Word became real to me again. Worship was real again. <br />
<br />
And then we missed a month of Sundays because of illness.<br />
<br />
And then my husband lost his job.<br />
<br />
And then I had to take on twice the business.<br />
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And then we have no health insurance.<br />
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And then bright orange lights light up in the dashboard on a 'new to us' vehicle.<br />
<br />
And then....life just happens.<br />
<br />
Oh devil...you sly boy.<br />
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All of that and here I sit unwavering. Believing and trusting in the Sovereignty of God. Knowing <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">He has this</span>. All of it.<br />
<br />
This is where the Big Stuff is. The stuff I can share and the stuff I can't share. The stuff I want to talk about so desperately, but the stuff I feel needs to be kept between me and Jesus for just a little longer. The stuff that Jesus is doing in my life.<br />
<br />
I realize this is all so very vague and part of me wants to apologize and part of me wants to savor it. But the time is not right to share all of what the Lord is doing, but I just wanted to share with y'all that there is big stuff going on in my life.<br />
<br />
Stuff that terrifies me and excites me all at the same time. Stuff that just requires a LOT of prayer. We need your prayers. For a lot of things. Some good and some not so good, but we do need them.<br />
<br />
If I were on Facebook right now y'all would tell me I'm Vaguebooking. I know I am. Frankly, I sound a little psychotic. Some of you would say, 'this is different from normal, how?'. This IS different, I promise.<br />
<br />
It's good. It's all good. And it's big stuff. God stuff.<br />
<br />
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<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-65597315156206826112012-07-26T00:04:00.002-07:002012-07-26T00:04:31.024-07:0043.Age is a funny thing.<br />
<br />
We spend our childhood wanting nothing BUT to be older. We usually enjoy our 20's and 30's while not appreciating them and then inevitably, want the clock to slow <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">waaay</span> down once 40 starts showing up on our radar.<br />
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Me, personally? I'm good.<br />
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I remember turning 40 and going into an all out panic because I was <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-large;">40!</span> My life was so over. Where's the cemetery plot.<br />
<br />
Phtfffffffff. Whatever.<br />
<br />
I turned 43 this year and frankly, I wear it as a badge of honor. I've managed to raise two kids now who, by the grace of God alone, are pretty decent human beings with an above average (I believe) moral compass. And they only need occasional therapy.<br />
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I still have 4 more under my roof, so the opportunity to completely screw those 4 up is still in the cards, however I don't stress about it near as much as I did 20 years ago when I only had one under my roof. This is one of the joys of being over 40.<br />
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I now have the freedom to not give a rat's patooty what other people think of me. Especially other mothers. Am I perfect? Why yes. Yes I am. Oh I kid...of course I'm not. My little girls don't go to bed on time..EVER, my 3 1/2 year old still wets herself on a daily basis and it's not unheard of that I will, on occasion, throw out a bribe to get the girls to do things for me.<br />
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Does this make me a bad mother? <br />
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I guess that depends on who you're talking to. As for me, I'm not really concerned with what others think. Here's why: I have enough age and experience under my belt to know that 1. my little girls will eventually start getting more regular in their bedtime routine. 2. Charlie will get completely potty trained at some point. I've yet to have a 4 year old pee pee pants. And 3. There is nothing wrong with kids occasionally making a little money on the side. Especially when mom has had it and needs a break.<br />
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I realize that this line of thinking has some people gasping... and that's okay. Take a few deep breaths, put your head between your legs if you have to and then tell yourself "It's going to be okay" about 3 times. <br />
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Feel better?<br />
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See, here's the thing. Once upon a time, a long time ago, I let other people steal my joy away from me where my children were concerned, where my house was concerned, where my spiritual level was concerned and even where my marriage was concerned. I spent so much time comparing myself to this person and that person that I wasn't taking the opportunity to enjoy what the good Lord had put right before me! <br />
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Age and experience have given me not only the confidence, but the sense to realize that time is fleeting and we've only got one shot at this life so why spend one more minute comparing ourselves to someone else? Here's a tip: we don't know what goes on behind closed doors. Or outside of blogs. <br />
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mmmhhhmmm...stepped on some toes there.<br />
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Really now girls (yes, I'm speaking to the ladies here). STOP. WITH. THE. COMPARING. Enjoy your babies! Enjoy your little laugh lines! Enjoy the experience that comes with age! I won't say you have to enjoy your gray hair, because I certainly don't enjoy mine and take every opportunity possible to color and highlight it. <br />
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Some things are meant to be colored. Hair is one of them.<br />
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All of that to say this: 43 doesn't bother me. 44 won't either and neither will 45. Besides, I've got enough on my plate at this very moment without worrying about what 44 will look like. I suspect however, that it will look much like 43 with the exception of the fact that I will finally have a pair of glasses with bifocals built in.<br />
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Losing the ability to read things at a normal distance sucks as you get older. This I will not sugar coat nor deny. Never make fun of some one who wears bifocals. It will come back to bit you in the butt....in spades.<br />
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I'm sorry I ever made fun of you, Mrs. Riffee. Please know that God, does in fact, have a sense of humor.<br />
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Anyway, the 43rd birthday was uneventful. It was spent with my family, which is pretty much the way I like it best.<br />
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I did make my own cake because Monk forgot to order one. I used Trader Joe's chocolate cake mix which was to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">die </span>for and then I made my own homemade chocolate buttercream, which was to die for as well. No lie.<br />
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Monk and the girls bought me a Keurig, but I don't think I like it. The coffee is SOOO unbelievably strong. Anyone else have one and like it? Don't like it? Any helpful coffee tips?<br />
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My day in the pictures is forthcoming...and in case you're wondering...my birthday is on July 4th which is why everyone is in red, white and blue. <br />
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And yes, I love my birthday. My mom was having a 'blast' when I was born. I was a little 'firecracker'. I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy. I've heard them all. And I still like them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_R2pViPCK9gEm9BEkDIUveQrT4aua4xIWtadkaLrjX5pKzzAhvIlsBNA6x75t8ncImh-ymoq_vcY34t7t0oVy5aBiBmj6GDSJgaeNgYuFWoscwQw0TfKl8nejQj4TkpHtsr9-msnR6j5N/s1600/3-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_R2pViPCK9gEm9BEkDIUveQrT4aua4xIWtadkaLrjX5pKzzAhvIlsBNA6x75t8ncImh-ymoq_vcY34t7t0oVy5aBiBmj6GDSJgaeNgYuFWoscwQw0TfKl8nejQj4TkpHtsr9-msnR6j5N/s640/3-1.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzGun4b9fnTX8DsuUPadJaCKIlvySPMz9-qTZXBHzX6UBx7cQeyWaitADmwjqV5KKqhCRoWjZgWVC561QPFG7SoZFkCFuj2OnXKGtldALQ4HgNskqKCP1dNAlo2f9D5QBfi4W3r7IJZHrk/s1600/4-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzGun4b9fnTX8DsuUPadJaCKIlvySPMz9-qTZXBHzX6UBx7cQeyWaitADmwjqV5KKqhCRoWjZgWVC561QPFG7SoZFkCFuj2OnXKGtldALQ4HgNskqKCP1dNAlo2f9D5QBfi4W3r7IJZHrk/s640/4-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I might have sort of went a little overboard in cake pictures. You want cake now, don't you?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56JJ9hmMy_h89d_IumQkmfqmC9xP1XAjDh_fLZA3BMzevLsVEV-6A0wtfXmC8XIE5eXWJSQV-qLyy2BAB_uJjMCJpPj6NEN0PcFcltl4f3OXH_HY0XdoJ15RkO9-xdcaMvQmIs0wNZQg7/s1600/6-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56JJ9hmMy_h89d_IumQkmfqmC9xP1XAjDh_fLZA3BMzevLsVEV-6A0wtfXmC8XIE5eXWJSQV-qLyy2BAB_uJjMCJpPj6NEN0PcFcltl4f3OXH_HY0XdoJ15RkO9-xdcaMvQmIs0wNZQg7/s640/6-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2XIbvG848NocenwGphMxiSeMg7UCkOyLGJWJtmGsAMb8pfV8ydL-_kBuun7JzTh7luryUfgf-85n7Q2pAyaFheQvimhnfsVo0fPow09-BtYKujvgnkwvuswm2F1CjLZhy0VXggWfa3i1/s1600/7-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2XIbvG848NocenwGphMxiSeMg7UCkOyLGJWJtmGsAMb8pfV8ydL-_kBuun7JzTh7luryUfgf-85n7Q2pAyaFheQvimhnfsVo0fPow09-BtYKujvgnkwvuswm2F1CjLZhy0VXggWfa3i1/s640/7-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sometimes, photography props work great around the house. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXIc48iBhtPVBw0D81v-OITfJEuAK1vjBjzQyBElCh6OJSw4fdrMXimisviepRPJVOMPteEkdt8zKqgIqZhIl5Lu9XQ3Da7HpIiXjsyX-ElosmUKb74-x0iRM3pH5VZozFmVYkwIt3fe4/s1600/8-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXIc48iBhtPVBw0D81v-OITfJEuAK1vjBjzQyBElCh6OJSw4fdrMXimisviepRPJVOMPteEkdt8zKqgIqZhIl5Lu9XQ3Da7HpIiXjsyX-ElosmUKb74-x0iRM3pH5VZozFmVYkwIt3fe4/s640/8-1.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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This kid melts my buttah...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKg1YFbDgu8d1JPMDRCJGcpvi7FV16fWi1thFWKCiSTzna7jG23tsg03ZGcr4uEliHduyZThmUwDCWqQjDDSybTNwEpl7URN71D3r9N_z4wQY6VU8OmyPYJQB8MwoYrnx765H3wCMbUv9/s1600/11-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKg1YFbDgu8d1JPMDRCJGcpvi7FV16fWi1thFWKCiSTzna7jG23tsg03ZGcr4uEliHduyZThmUwDCWqQjDDSybTNwEpl7URN71D3r9N_z4wQY6VU8OmyPYJQB8MwoYrnx765H3wCMbUv9/s640/11-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5k6L_N0FhEpQRutMlMLgxCCuUPPe9W_gQPVUQr8CNhYYLBmLL7kWwQhoyDblbB4nBK_dCoEWJTREXfbeIj5x5nW3-bpqjz11HJXrvzE0rbtXJT_mq2sktWXJJVIorjIY-4mXVhIlWmSS/s1600/13-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5k6L_N0FhEpQRutMlMLgxCCuUPPe9W_gQPVUQr8CNhYYLBmLL7kWwQhoyDblbB4nBK_dCoEWJTREXfbeIj5x5nW3-bpqjz11HJXrvzE0rbtXJT_mq2sktWXJJVIorjIY-4mXVhIlWmSS/s640/13-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The single best reason to celebrate...my children.</div>
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<br />
Aging isn't a terrible thing.<br />
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Well except the whole bifocal thing...that's bad. Really bad.<br />
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Age is just the natural progression of life. And as with most things, one's perception of it will pretty much determine how much one enjoys it.<br />
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Me? I'll be the old lady with the bright red lipstick and leopard purse the size of a tank. I won't be growing old quietly.<br />
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All that to say this: I'm not old. I don't consider myself old. Frankly, I'm fairy immature for most women in their 40's. I'm okay with that. I do consider myself experienced and wiser and for me...that's awesome.<br />
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You know that whole hind sight is 20/20 thing?<br />
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It's true.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-80356495967160691902012-07-01T23:19:00.001-07:002012-07-25T23:03:46.758-07:00So Much to Say, So Little Time to Say It...When I went to type the 'blogger' website, I actually typed in Booger.com.<br />
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That is for real truth. It's been that kind of week.<br />
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This week isn't shaping up to be much different. I have a total of 4 <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(FOUR!)</span> different posts that I've started. One of them involves 25 pictures. And another one is a DIY. I'm not even kidding. I simply have not had the time to post. I'm only doing it now because I feel like I will lose my ever lovin' mind if don't say something.<br />
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We will also be leaving for vacation next Sunday so I am furiously working to be completely caught up on editing before we leave. I'm also hoping that while I'm gone I can be wonder blogger and dazzle you people with lots of wordy, picture-y posts.<br />
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I'm not sure if I will have time to post much, if anything, this week. This bums me out. But on top of all the editing I have to do, I also have a birth I will need to shoot this week. And there's this little matter of my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">43rd</span> birthday. <br />
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I'll be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">43 years old</span> on July 4th. Where in the heck did the time go, y'all?<br />
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And that's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">another</span> post I want to do! so make that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">five</span> posts I have in my head. If y'all know anything at all about being over 40, you know that my brain simply cannot handle all of this information. Just like my bladder cannot handle excessive laughter. But that story is for another time.<br />
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Here's a little sneaky peeky at one of the sessions I did this past week. I no longer have a photography blog and sometimes I just wanna share. I figure most of you can appreciate a little maternity photography, right?<br />
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As long as it's not <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">me!</span><br />
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And <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">this?</span> This is definitely not me. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
We were sweating buckets for this session. Texas heat is ridiculous sometimes, but this beautiful momma was a trooper. And she brought the cool chair. I wanted to push her down and bring it home with me. But I didn't.<br />
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Also, this past week Charlie bit Hopie in the butt. I'll tell more of that story later, but I found this picture tonight from the girl's swim class this last week and I couldn't resist throwing it in Photoshop and adding my little touch to it. <br />
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Because I'm so mature and all.<br />
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Gotta love my Charlie Bug. She keeps life interesting. And seriously? Would <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">anyone</span> ever want to get bit in the hiney by <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">those</span> teeth?!<br />
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(If you're an orthodontist and you're reading this AND you feel sorry for us concerning our 3 year olds teeth....we will totally take an orthodontic donation. Just sayin'...)<br />
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Hopefully I'll be back to with a post on getting older, but if I'm not...y'all have a fantastic 4th of July!Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-38070756394262508672012-06-25T00:00:00.000-07:002012-06-25T13:04:48.740-07:00Brave - A Review*There is possible <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">SPOILERS</span> in this post, so be prepared!* Nothing that gives it away, but mostly story line discussion.<br />
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Let me just say, the four Littles and I have been <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-large;">very</span> excited about Disney Pixar's new film, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEHWDA_6e3M">Brave</a></span>. I am <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">all</span> over a movie about a feisty girl with out of control red, curly hair! Like I would know anything about that!<br />
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For <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">months </span>we've have counted down until this movie came out. We really had intended on going to opening day and then the unthinkable happened....my 19 year old Maddie went to the midnight showing. <br />
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She came over the next day and informed me that it was dumb, somewhat boring, scary and inappropriate. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">WHA?!!</span> I was crushed, to say the least. More so for the four Littles because we had been <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">so</span> excited and now, I had serious doubts about the movie.<br />
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We decided to wait a few days and see what the general buzz was around the Internet. After some more contemplation & some positive reviews, I decided to go ahead and take the bigger girls to see it and left the two little ones at home with Monk for the evening. <br />
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Let me just say this about the movie... I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-large;">loved </span>it!!<br />
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That's what I get for trusting the opinion of a 19 year old. Not to diss her (okay, maybe a little), BUT...I can see where she wouldn't totally <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">'get'</span> the theme of the movie.<br />
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In the previews, we are led to believe that the movie is about young Merida's quest for freedom. This is definitely in the story line, but it's most definitely <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">not</span> the main story line of the movie.<br />
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The main story line of the movie is mostly about the mother/daughter relationship. I originally wanted to say mother/child, but now I'm not so sure that's appropriate. I really think the mother/daughter relationship is very strong and evident in the movie. <br />
<br />
As the mother of 5 girls....let me repeat that... As the mother of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">FIVE</span> girls, I totally <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">GOT</span> this movie! I could relate in every way! Well, except for the whole Scottish queen/princess/ride a horse/ marry a man who wears a skirt sort of thing.<br />
<br />
And in the end? I cried. Because I would have done exactly what Merida's mother did...defend my children no matter what the situation and the possible outcome.<br />
<br />
Here are my following opinions and observations on the movie in general. In bullet form, of course.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>As per usual, the animation was outstanding. It was hard to believe the scenery was actually animation - just beautiful! And Merida's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">hair</span>? OH. MY. LANTA. I wanted it! I wanted one of my daughter's to have it! Totally in love with her. :)</li>
<li>Merida had a strong relationship with her father and a strained relationship with her mother. Some could interpret this as a weak father role sort of thing, but I would disagree with that. Merida just had her father's personality and he understood her. </li>
<li>I believe the movie had a great example of a girl who rebelled and then repented.</li>
<li>I believe it also showed how parents need to listen to their children and that those relationships <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">can</span> be repaired.</li>
<li>There was a lot of humor involving Merida's rambunctious red-headed little brothers. They were <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">all</span> boy and kept my girl's (and ME!) in stitches with their boy antics.</li>
<li>The movie has some scary scenes that involve a bear. I was glad that the two smallest Littles weren't there with me. It was pretty intense and even scared Liv a little.</li>
<li>There is magic in the movie - as in most Disney movies.</li>
<li>There is some nudity involving male rear ends. I didn't find it offensive although I can see where some might. This is what Maddie deemed offensive. It was pertinent to the scene, however.</li>
<li>There is also a scene involving a woman's bosoms, but again, it was more funny than it was offensive. There is no nudity. It is just a scene where it is 'implied' as to what happens.</li>
<li>The mother and father loved one another very much, which was nice to see.</li>
<li>Merida loves her brothers and got along with them. Also nice to see.</li>
<li>I was very glad that this movie didn't involve a prince. Some may see it as a form of some sort of feminism, but it was more about Merida's desire to find love on her own and not be forced into a relationship she was not ready for.</li>
</ul>
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And that's it! Would I see it again? Absolutely? Will I buy it when it comes out on DVD? Absolutely! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It made me look at my relationships with my daughters and realize that they all aren't going to be like me or do what I want them to all the time. And I'm okay with that. It also made me realize that I would go to the ends of the earth to defend them in any way I needed to.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And that, my friends? Is good stuff!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Now to just figure out how to make them all have giant heads of outrageously red, curly hair...</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-60380833520898670352012-06-22T00:00:00.000-07:002012-06-21T22:33:31.434-07:00Summer Fun Fridays...the test run.I hope this works. The whole <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">Summer Fun Friday</span> thing. I'm not one for routine and pretty much consider myself a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda girl. When I get the whim to write about something, I don't usually follow the rules.<br />
<br />
Come to think of it, I was a lot like that in college too. <br />
<br />
And maybe in high school..<br />
<br />
Anyyyyway...<br />
<br />
I really wanted to just dedicate Fridays to some of the fun things we do - <i>on. the. cheap.</i> <br />
<br />
Yep. Monk works hard for the money and since I've cut my business way back our summer fun must be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">affordable</span>. And we're saving every dime we can to go on <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">VACATION</span> in less than 3 weeks!<br />
<br />
One the single cheapest things I've done to provide easy entertainment for my girls for the last 3 years is go to Wally World every spring and buy a cheap <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">kiddie pool</span>. Not the cheapest pool, not the most expensive, but the middle of the road plastic pool.<br />
<br />
I'm not one for visiting the old WW store as I find it about as enjoyable as shaving my legs with a rusty razor, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BUT</span> they do make a very effective, affordable, fairly sturdy kiddie pool. <br />
<br />
And my girls <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">LOVE</span> it.<br />
<br />
I usually pick up some goggles, bubbles and floaty toys and they're pretty much set. <br />
<br />
Then usually around late August, the morbidly hot Texas sun manages to warp the plastic pool beyond repair and it gets retired. Last year it became a leaf pool in the late fall/early winter and the girls had a ball jumping in leaves.<br />
<br />
Not bad for a $16 investment.<br />
<br />
Lots of hot summer days are spent in this pool. I throw in some poolside snacks and it becomes a couple hours of fun. <br />
<br />
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Photographic evidence of poolside fun</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVcEQ4iIoJkU6LTQG3w5Ktt8_RG51I6xapZUUabJEpFM9m3H-eWtOzVWGQlKio_n7DqJWtR5GZHRKejTDkIWL06JKBm3koubVh7NDFI0fvq8rAsqNU8xgfmUrz6FKqIjX-g5jekPs4-1mK/s1600/blog+swim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVcEQ4iIoJkU6LTQG3w5Ktt8_RG51I6xapZUUabJEpFM9m3H-eWtOzVWGQlKio_n7DqJWtR5GZHRKejTDkIWL06JKBm3koubVh7NDFI0fvq8rAsqNU8xgfmUrz6FKqIjX-g5jekPs4-1mK/s640/blog+swim.jpg" width="384" /></a></div>
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<i>(I sure wish I could get these pictures bigger...)</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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And there you have it. My first every Summer Fun Friday. It felt sort of contrived. Was it sort of lame? Exciting? Boring? Are you mocking me? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm sort of mocking myself so that one wouldn't surprise me. </div>
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And I hate my pictures being so small. </div>
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</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-32944091864144740512012-06-20T21:22:00.004-07:002012-06-20T21:24:57.773-07:00Feeling QuippyOkay. So 'quippy' is totally not a word, but look at it this way...I just made a new one!<br />
<br />
Ever since I joined bloggy land with the Internets many, many moons ago, I've always wanted to host one of those cute, themed, particular-day-of-the-week posts that everyone looks forward to. You know, 'Wordless Wednesday' - which never worked for me, by the way because I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">always</span> have something to say Or how about Works-for- Me Wednesday where everyone shares ... well..what works for them! I'm not sure <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">why</span> I picked two Wednesday things, but you get my drift.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I debated and debated and debated, ate some pistachios and debated some more. <br />
<br />
(I've realized that I'm much too immature to come up with something legit.) <br />
<br />
I would think of things like:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Moron Monday</span> where we talk about those morons we've encountered over the previous week and weekend. Not very Christian-like I'm afraid. Fun, but totally not spiritual. (My friend Anita is saying, "DANG" right now. She would've loved that one.)<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Terrific Tuesdays</span>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Much</span> too happy. And what if Tuesday actually sucked a little.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We Cleaned Something Wednesdays</span>. Nah.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Theological Thursdays</span>. Now...before you snort your Cheerios, hear me out.<br />
<br />
I kind of liked this one. You know, take a day to tone it down, open up discussion about things, give my thoughts on particular subjects, etc.. The problem was that it seemed very contrived. If the Spirit leads me to say something, I want to be willing to write about it and say it. But what I don't want is to be sweating over my computer keys like some pimply faced seminary kid trying to finish a term paper on Paedobaptism vs. Credobaptism - To Dunk or Not to Dunk. If it's forced it's just not worth it.<br />
<br />
And I bet y'all are totally Googling what paedobaptism and credobaptism are, huh? HA!<br />
<br />
And lastly, I thought about...<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Summer Fun Friday. </span>And I liked it. I realized that I would change it during the the Fall, Winter and Spring, but I liked it. It would be and easy, laid back post, one on which to head into the weekend. And so I edited some pictures of the girls and arranged them just so and got them all ready to post on <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Summer Fun Friday</span>... and then...<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...realized it was</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Thursday!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br />
The worst part about the whole thing? The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">worst</span> part was sitting here really trying to figure out what day of the week it was. For about <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">10</span> minutes. No lie.<br />
<br />
So now I've changed my mind and think I'll start calling it <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Stupid Things You Do Over Forty Fridays</span>. Half my readers would totally get it and the other half would probably just say ....'Eww'.<br />
<br />
I'll be back Friday with my legitimate Summer Fun Friday post, but for now I need to go look for my glasses.<br />
<br />
Which will probably be on top of my head.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEpo25Ywq7VMGMwYmnHfzxz3N3Cj4NmfdYRXLT5c4gge-X5qIJr6BSJBKUCdFqQYJ9qcSXy9HKcp-KjsJ3q07h8LBixh88VwESD_J2hdzE9XrdoqS3TYyGZMR3cwxOPCcaeSG_xvbQduxH/s1600/2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEpo25Ywq7VMGMwYmnHfzxz3N3Cj4NmfdYRXLT5c4gge-X5qIJr6BSJBKUCdFqQYJ9qcSXy9HKcp-KjsJ3q07h8LBixh88VwESD_J2hdzE9XrdoqS3TYyGZMR3cwxOPCcaeSG_xvbQduxH/s640/2-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Taken by my Birdie age 3. :)</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-60131078814003336322012-06-17T21:18:00.000-07:002012-06-17T22:28:08.333-07:00The Not-So-Father's DayOriginally, I had planned on doing a big Father's Day post. <br />
<br />
I took lots of pictures of the girls making their cards and I took several Father's Day shots and totally planned on putting a post out there to honor the man I love and whom my little girls call daddy. It was (and will be eventually) a really happy post.<br />
<br />
But things took an abrupt turn for me and I needed to write it down. Get it out. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Let it go</i></span>.<br />
<br />
While my amazing husband tells folks he has 6 children, he biologically only has 4. He's a step-father to my two oldest.<br />
<br />
Some of you may not know this, many of you do, but I was married once before.<br />
<br />
The man I married 23 years ago gave me two <i>beautiful</i> children. He then left me when they were 3 & 4 years old. In reality, he left them too. Once he left, he moved 5 hours away and my children saw him pretty much once a month for the majority of their childhood with week long visits scattered here and there in between. By the time they were teenagers they saw him even less. <br />
<br />
Monk, my amazing husband of 14 years now, did his very best to be a father to my kids. He loved them like his own, tried to be a part of their lives and in a very real sense, tried to make up for what they had lost. While his efforts were genuine, the reality was that he wasn't their dad. Conflicts happen in all blended families and ours was no different. When kids get about 11 & 12 years old...they just <i>know</i> it's not the same.<br />
<br />
For years I tried to protect their hearts. When their dad didn't call or visits didn't go well I tried to reassure them and put things in the best light possible. I admit that as they got older I said things I probably shouldn't have. Not in any way to try and degrade their dad to them, but because I was hurt for them. <br />
<br />
And that's what I did for 16 long years. I hurt<i> for</i> them.<br />
<br />
They are now 19 & 20. The don't live with me anymore. They are adults (for the most part lol!) and they now deal with their dad on their own terms. Many times in their childhood or teen years if I saw that they were hurting over him I would call him and persuade him to try and <i>right</i> things.<br />
<br />
I don't do that anymore since it's not necessary for us to communicate any longer. And now I watch <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">them</span></i> hurt. I watch them, with the expectation that things will be different, and then see the disappointment that happens when it's not.<br />
<br />
My heart aches.<br />
<br />
Today has been hard for them. The relationship they <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">want</span> and the relationship they <i>have</i> are worlds apart. A man that doesn't see the <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">gift</span></i> he has in his children that want a relationship with him. <br />
<br />
On a day that has been so wonderful for my own husband and my 4 little girls, has been hard for my two oldest children. There is a hole in their hearts and they don't know how to fill it. And as tears roll hot down my cheeks, I admit I cannot fill that hole either. <br />
<br />
And yet again...I hurt<i> </i>for <i>them</i>.<br />
<br />
I know they have a Father that can fill that hole. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>He</i></span> can give them peace and comfort and joy and happiness. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>He</i> </span>can change their heart and show them forgiveness. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>He</i></span> can allow them to forgive. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>He</i></span> can show them how to be thankful in the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;"><i>hard stuff.</i></span><br />
<br />
But tonight, the lump in my throat and the pain in my heart are still very much present. I hate not being able to make things right. I grieve because they hurt.<br />
<br />
They are strong, those two. Both in will and in determination. And for that, I am extremely thankful. But as a mother, I know they say they are fine, but I also know there is a sense of loss in their heart. <br />
<br />
And what can I do?<br />
<br />
I can be there for them. I can love them. And I can pray for them.<br />
<br />
But I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to stop hurting for them.<br />
<br />
<br />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-52658779047244588892012-06-15T23:29:00.002-07:002012-06-16T08:59:01.064-07:00Ugly.I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Which frankly, is a lame excuse for a sinful attitude.<br />
<br />
I knew within 15 minutes of waking up that I was going to struggle. I could sense that my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">temper</span>, like some pacing, caged animal, was looking for an opportunity to get out.<br />
<br />
It didn't take long unfortunately.<br />
<br />
I struck again and again, with words that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">stung</span> and a not so quiet voice. They were easy prey. When you're 12 and under what are you going to do? And so they took it.<br />
<br />
Every little thing, all day long. Another opportunity to come unleashed. Even in public. Which I find completely and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">utterly</span> reprehensible. Those are the people at which my eyes hurl fiery darts. The ones I judge. <br />
<br />
And then I was one.<br />
<br />
All day long, over and over, the Spirit chided me. I fought back. I ignored. I was even <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">angry</span>. I remember at one point wanting to yell, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">"leave me alone!"</span>.<br />
<br />
I'm reading a book right now about thankfulness and what it means. It's changing me. I'll share more on it in a coming post, but today that book kept popping into my head. Truthfully, lots of things were popping into my head.<br />
<br />
Specifically, the verse I just said to my little girls yesterday about <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"doing unto others"</span>. (Matt 7:12)<br />
<br />
Conviction central.<br />
<br />
I'm trusting that it was the Holy Spirit and not the carbs I ate that finally calmed me and I was able to be decent to my children again.<br />
<br />
I'm not exactly sure what happened today as that is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">so</span> out of character for me. I can be a grump at times, but today I was out of control. So much so that I came home and checked side effects on a new medicine I had started taking for my foot. Nothing.<br />
<br />
Chalk it up to good old fashioned <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">sin</span>.<br />
<br />
Ugly, ugly, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">ugly</span> sin.<br />
<br />
I would be foolish not to realize that my heart, while it is changing, being softened and molded, is very realistically under attack. The devil knows and he sees and it makes him seriously unhappy. So he wreaked havoc with it today. He won. At least for a little while.<br />
<br />
He picked the wrong thing to use against me though.<br />
<br />
You see, while my children may get on my nerves at times, they are also one of the things in my life that make me <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">happiest</span>. I love them almost more than I love oxygen. The only reason I love oxygen more is because it allows me to keep breathing long enough so I can keep seeing my children. (Actually that's God that gave me the oxygen to breath, but you know what I mean. I hope.)<br />
<br />
Using my children against me only gives God the advantage because my children are also one of the things that God uses to draw me closer to Him.<br />
<br />
I may have allowed the devil to use me to verbally batter my children for a large portion of the day, but in the end, the Holy Spirit finally allowed me to see the how unholy I was being. And He changed my heart.<br />
<br />
He did that! Right in the middle of the mall! Right before I consumed a large portion of carbs! I'm sure my girls didn't care if it was the Holy Spirit or the pretzel, they were just glad to have their momma back!<br />
<br />
And so was I.<br />
<br />
Now the hard, unfinished business I have left to do is to apologize to them, individually. One of the hardest parts of parenting is apologizing to my children. I admit, it doesn't always happen enough. Admitting my sin and asking forgiveness, that is. <br />
<br />
I was wrong today.<br />
<br />
I was SO wrong.<br />
<br />
I was sinful. <br />
<br />
If I expect my children to not yell at others and if I expect my children to apologize to others and if I expect my children to be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">Jesus</span> to others, than it is my responsibility to be Jesus to them.<br />
<br />
Wow.<br />
<br />
Gosh that's hard. But man, am I thankful that God keeps chiseling away at me and my almost 43 year old self. Because I know that he began a good work in me and He <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">will</span> finish that work. And hopefully, one day, I get to look at my children as adults and watch God use their children to teach them. That would be so cool.<br />
<br />
So take that, devil.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-91589699375788585122012-06-12T11:22:00.000-07:002012-06-12T11:23:42.125-07:00Confessions From a Country Concert.<div style="text-align: left;">
I seriously had one of the most <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">rad</span> weekends I've had in a long time. I'm not even kidding. And I'm not afraid nor ashamed to use the word "rad". That's one of the best parts about being over 40 - you can just say crap and not care if it's cool or not.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
First paragraph and I'm already off track. Also one of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">worst</span> things about being over 40.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Anyway.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In short, my best friend Anita ended up having an extra ticket to the Tim McGraw/Kenny Chesney Brothers of the Sun concert. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Tim McGraw, y'all. Enough said I do believe.</div>
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<br />
Anyhoo, I've compiled a list of a few confessions I have about Saturday's concert.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Confession #1.</span> I've never really been to a concert.<br />
<br />
It's true. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">::insert snickering here:</span> I've been to ...um....southern gospel concerts.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> ::insert more snickering here:: </span>and I've been to...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
...a Hilary Duff concert. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">::insert raucous laughter here::</span> Oh I wish I were kidding, but alas, I am not. I took my Madgirl when she was but a mere 11 or 12 years old. It was fun and all, but not exactly what I'd call a concert for adults.</div>
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<br /></div>
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To say <strike>I </strike> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">WE </span>were excited about this little adventure was a complete and total understatement.<br />
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Example:</div>
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I couldn't imagine any other person I'd rather spend my first concert with. We did our fair share of mischief making in college so I felt it was only appropriate to share this rite of passage with my partner in crime. Well as much 'crime' as you can get into in a small Baptist college. We managed though.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Confession #2.</span> We tailgated.<br />
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Anita is a concert attending veteran so I was able to feel like one of the cool kids on my first time out with some of her friends that were tailgating. Let me just say this - tailgating is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">great</span> fun, y'all and frankly, had it not been 156 degrees outside I could've stayed out there all day! <br />
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Yellow and purple Solo cups! Aren't they cute!</div>
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Tailgaters are an interesting breed. They are happy and fun and willing to share anything and everything. Maybe a little too much.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Confession #3. </span>Concerts are loud. </div>
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I'm sorry, let me rephrase that... Concerts are <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-large;">LOUD!! </span>And apparently I am old in regards to that. It bothered me at first and then as the night wore on I became more and more used to it. And THEN, at some point in the night everyone began to sound like the Munchkins from <i>The Wizard of Oz.</i> </div>
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I'm not kidding! I truly thought I had permanently damaged my hearing at one point. I suppose it could quite humorous to spend the rest of your life hearing Munchkin voices all the time. But then I realized at some point I'd probably have to kill someone and that sort of thing is usually frowned upon.</div>
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By the time the concert was over, mine and Anita's conversations were going something like this:</div>
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Anita: Man, Kenny Chesney was so awesome! (Anita is a Kenny lover)</div>
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Me: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">HUH?</span></div>
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Anita: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I loved Kenny Chesney!</span></div>
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Me: Yea, the boy certainly knows how to put on a show!</div>
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Anita: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What?</span></div>
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Then we laughed hysterically at how old and dumb we were.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Confession #4. </span>I prayed to not get the stinky stall.</div>
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This particular confession holds true for all people in all situations, but I'm gonna go ahead and put it out there for this particular instance because somebody just needs to say it.</div>
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While waiting in line to use the bathroom at the concert, I was secretly praying not to get the smelly stall. You know everybody can smell it and I'm pretty sure heaven's gates were being inundated with prayers for deliverance from that particular stall. We all knew it was there because we could smell it, but everybody stood there all cool like while refraining from plugging their noses and saying, "sheeeeewwweee".</div>
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If you're prone to that sort of explosive bathroom behavior then I think I'm pretty safe in saying you probably need to stay away from the Ultimate Nachos at popular concert venues.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Confession #5.</span> I judged way too many people's apparel choices at this concert.</div>
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People watching is a favorite of mine and this particular night happened to be a goldmine liken to that of the <a href="http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/">People of Walmart</a>. Minus the pajama bottoms.</div>
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Let me say this. Just because you have a cute pair of shorts and an even cuter pair of cowboy boots does not necessarily mean that it is entirely appropriate for you to wear them together.</div>
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In other words, if your thighs are dented, please refrain from the public wearing of bootie shorts. You may end up as blog fodder.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Confession #6.</span> I sang my guts out. </div>
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Even when I didn't know all the words and sang a large portion of them wrong, I still sang my guts out. So not only did I go home deaf, but hoarse as well.</div>
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It was well worth it.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Confession #7</span>. I enjoy laughing at drunk people. </div>
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And to tell you the truth, there were a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">lot</span> of them that night. </div>
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Never having been to a concert like that (obviously there was no alcohol at Hilary Duff - although it might have made it more bearable), I really didn't realize just how <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">much</span> people consumed! Holy Moses! </div>
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I don't have a problem with a casual drink. I've said it before and I'll say it again, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gp1KVPkrimQ">I love Jesus, but I drink a little.</a> But what I don't understand is paying big bucks for tickets to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">THEE</span> concert of the summer and then getting so drunk you probably don't remember it. That makes no sense to me. </div>
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However, watching you be drunk was great entertainment and anytime you want to make a fool of yourself publicly, I'll be happy to watch and then blog about it.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Confession #8.</span> The old gray mare ain't what she used to be.</div>
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We went to bed a 1 am and I was wiped out. For the entirety of the next day as well. And maybe even into Monday. I'm realizing more and more that the girl who could stay up all night in college, take an exam the next day and then go work a 5 hour shift is...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">GONE!</span> Somebody give me some coffee and Advil because I just can't cut it anymore. HA!</div>
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We danced, we sang, we laughed hard and had <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">way</span> too good of time, if there even is such a thing. </div>
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But the biggest thing I received from this weekend was friendship. It's good to know that true friends stand the test of time. True friends can pick up where they've left off. And <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">true </span>friends will shush you when you're talking smack about someone walking in front of you a little too loudly.</div>
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<br /></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-58996542074431755732012-06-05T22:24:00.000-07:002012-06-05T22:24:04.923-07:00These Six.These six right here?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9JD0epBk6BLyS9YKcdf7adeH2AR7aRjdcuzmMtd1dFPEV_1fKGtMlm4DWMBPsZnGv27X3HQ7A5E_KNG3-MFNQ0kwPtJ84ZTNkTj1y2bkNBmq1WZTVGra9NPpR03N02xDKFNolkxCxCFNo/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9JD0epBk6BLyS9YKcdf7adeH2AR7aRjdcuzmMtd1dFPEV_1fKGtMlm4DWMBPsZnGv27X3HQ7A5E_KNG3-MFNQ0kwPtJ84ZTNkTj1y2bkNBmq1WZTVGra9NPpR03N02xDKFNolkxCxCFNo/s640/1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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They are enough for me to thank God <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">every</span> moment of every day.<br />
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Children, while hard, are a blessing y'all. When you look at them that way, the hard times are a whole lot easier to get through. <br />
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Spend time with them. They deserve your time. And they grow up much too quickly.Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-80196405712802565042012-06-04T22:20:00.000-07:002012-06-04T22:27:23.449-07:00The Cleanse...So I'm starting a cleanse today. To be more specific, it's the Advocare 24-day Challenge. I did it a 3 months ago and lost 21 lbs. It was <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">great</span> for me! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(I promise, this is not a paid advertisement.)</span> I never really felt hungry and more importantly...<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I didn't even exercise</span>.<br />
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There's a part of that wants to totally brag on that and then there's another part of me that is a little ashamed and wants to crawl under a rock. I'm going with bragging though. It really was great to watch the pounds melt away <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ONLY</span> by changing what I put in my mouth and taking the supplements. This is how I broke my Coke addiction. ::insert happy dance here::<br />
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I was eating healthy, feeling <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">UH</span>-mazeballs!! All of my heartburn went away, my joint pay ceased to exist and pretty much every other physical ailment I was having went away. It was fantastico.<br />
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But I'm an emotional eater. Very. Much. So.<br />
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While I won't go into any details in this post (trust me, you will hear about this eventually), my beloved cat and buddy, Fat Otis disappeared. I went into a tailspin. I cried for 3 days straight and actually prayed he would come home. I was eating crap coming and going. I'm not even kidding when I tell you I went to Sonic <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: large;">three</span> nights in a row for a milkshake. I ate licorice, chips, cereal, drank COKE...and the list goes on. Knowing this food would make me feel terrible, I ate it anyway. I pretty much ate my weight in Jack in the Box tacos. Don't judge...I love them. Deep seeded psychological issues? <br />
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Most likely. That's for another time though.<br />
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Annnyway...I think that counts as falling off the bandwagon. I have heartburn again, I'm sluggish, my knees are achy and worst of all...I've gained 5 lbs back. It bites. I knew I had to pull myself together to do this again, but it has taken me 3 weeks to do it. And here we are.<br />
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I was supposed to have started it yesterday, but I had a session yesterday morning and well....sometimes after drinking the herbal cleanse you just need to stay close to the bathroom. And that's all I'm going to say about that.<br />
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I'd like to note my progress on here. What food I'm eating, how much I'm losing, etc... If y'all think you're going to get a weight out of me though, forget it. I just want some accountability and I figure here is just as good as anywhere else. As long as you don't ask my weight. Deal.<br />
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So last night was my last opportunity to eat carbs in the form of the <strike>devil</strike> ...white bread. It was also my last time for red meat for 11 days. ::whimper:: I grilled burgers and corn on the cob on my new <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">wonderful </span>grill that my hubby bought for me. :) It's rad.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(hmmm...not happy about this picture size. Not at all. Anyone know how to make these bad boys bigger? Bueller? Bueller?)</span><br />
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Are you drooling yet? You should be, it was delicious. :) Monk kept grunting in between mouthfuls about loving me. This man's love language is food. Hands down.<br />
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So that's it. Let the journey begin. Anyone else want to join me?Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-28402602271255530992012-06-04T05:00:00.000-07:002012-06-04T07:23:21.281-07:00This Name and Why...Call Me Mumsy.<br />
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I know some of you are thinking "why on EARTH would she pick this name?'. Am I right? I toyed with this particular name for a good long time, rolling it around on my tongue like a good fine wine, making sure it was well balanced and other wine analogies I can't seem think of at the moment. Full bodied comes to mind, but that's more about my size than my blog name. Good to know my advanced ability to rabbit trail has done nothing but<i> improve </i>over the last few years! <br />
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Bottom line: A good name is important. (There's a life lesson in that last line somewhere, but I'm not going there right now.)<br />
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Another name I considered was <i>Adventures in Stretch Pants</i>. I really liked this name, but there is still a good portion of me (no pun intended) that has a great desire to not buy stretchy waist band pants. In other words, momma doesn't want to be a plus size for the rest of her life. I also thought that as I aged I could transition into <i>Adventures in Depends: It's No Laughing Matter</i>. But again, I really don't want to be known for my lack of bladder control either. Come on people, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">six</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">kids</span></span> came out of this body ..... I'm one good laugh away from a natural disaster every single day of my life. I am not ashamed to admit this. Okay...maybe a little, but I want this blog to be honest, so there it is.<br />
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I just admitted to incontinence in my second post.<br />
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Keepin' it classy, y'all. <br />
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Needless to say, this name was not the name that summed me up, so it didn't make the cut.<br />
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The last name I considered was <i>Momma Said</i>... I thought I could have fun with this one. Kitschy little tag lines, great blog titles and something that specifically identified <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">ME</span>. Plus, I really enjoy <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQlImg2bm28">the song</a>. It's even in my iTunes. :) I liked it so much that I actually snagged it in Blogger and it sits there safely awaiting me if I ever need it. So why didn't I pick it this time? It just didn't feel right. At least not right now and that was enough for me. <br />
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So now the question begs, why this <i>Mumsy</i> thing? <br />
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Well, it's not anything mind boggling or anything, but I sort of have a fascination with British people. As in, I adore them. Their accents, their country, their cities, their countryside, their sayings (dodgy! bloke!), all of it. And every Mother's Day for the last several years or <i>more</i>, I tell my children that for that day they need to call me Mumsy. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">With...</span></i> the British accent. <br />
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Most of the time this involves a lot of begging and pleading on my part, but generally I can get a few Mumsy's out of them before the day is over. And let me tell you....my children can do a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999; font-size: x-large;">sick</span> British accent! This makes me exceedingly happy and all is well. <br />
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So that is the very simple reason behind why I chose the name <i>Call Me Mumsy</i>. It's endearing to me.<br />
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And quite frankly, it probably says a lot about what kind of complete and total nut job I am.<br />
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Until next time...Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-296060691196083130.post-34303372281694001482012-06-02T21:47:00.000-07:002012-06-02T21:47:25.231-07:00One......because it's my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">first</span> post here. That's pretty amazing to me considering I've wanted to start blogging again for 3 very long years. I find it pretty surreal actually. My life has come full circle over the last three years. One of these days I might even tell you that particular story. What matters now is that I'm here. And hopefully there is <strike>a few people</strike> someone who just might want to read a bit of my drivel, but if not then I'm completely content to talk to myself. That's what I do most days anyway. <br />
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Once I figure out where to find and fill out the 'About Me' page then I can let you know a little more...well...about me. Unfortunately, I'm still the technological boob that I've always been so it may take me a while. Or a year. Give or take a few months.<br />
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Some of you are new here and some of you aren't. Some of you read <a href="http://www.monkswife.blogspot.com/">THIS</a> blog .... the one that I left when I started my photography business. I really loved that blog and frankly, it gives a lot of information about who I am. It also gives a little insight into the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">crazy</span> that I love to call my family. If you've never read it, then go look around. Blog stalking is alright by me.<br />
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Well, that's as crazy as it gets for my first post, y'all. Independence Day is on the TV and I'm a little distracted by all the alien dissection going on at the moment. That and there's a sink full of dirty dishes that are just aching to be clean. Oh wait, that's me. I need a shower really bad. The dishes just need to be washed.<br />
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Until next time...Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13574494271590583219noreply@blogger.com3