Finding myself through the darkness

 



I have to admit that I've been hiding from you. 

Yep--you, with the face and the eyes and whatnot.

A week ago, I came home from a dreamy, long-anticipated week-long beach vacation with my family.  In the midst of my pre-vacay cleaning/prepping/packing frenzy, I {intended} to schedule three blog posts to release during the week I would be gone.  My vacation to-do lists are usually endless, and of course I did not get to do any blogging before our trip.  Heck--I didn't even bother to shave my legs.

It's okay--I thought.  I can always take a week off and get right back to it. No harm, no foul.

We had such a great time on vacation that we extended it by a day, and then we went to a birthday party the day after we returned.  I was exhausted, and a week away from the blog quickly became two.

{Insert neurotic inner dialogue about why I was suddenly quitting the blog.}

Peace in the eye of the hurricane {or grace at the peak of frustration}

I wrote this post on Wednesday evening {7/15/15}, while cooking dinner... in the middle of a dramatic hormonal breakdown.  We all spaz out from time to time.  I hope someone else finds comfort in knowing that it's okay to kirk out, just as it is okay to give yourself a pass.
*****

 

 

I am smack dab in the middle of one of THOSE days... if you know what I mean.

Nothing catastrophic has happened, and I've been counting blessings the whole way, believe that.

It's not what I would call a BAD day.  It's been quite the opposite, really.  I am just--frustrated.

Frustrated with the doctor who spent a good hour trying to convince me that I didn't have strep throat (which I've probably had half a dozen times in my life and could practically diagnose myself, WebMD be damned), just because the rapid strep test came back negative--which has always been my experience. 

Frustrated with the 2 loaves of banana bread that I found 4 perfectly ripe bananas at the store for, and dumped my last 4 cups of flour into... which wound up burnt.

Frustrated with my general lack of energy (courtesy of the aforementioned strep throat).

Frustrated that this is one of those days when I have to tell my kids something several times before they tune me in to listen.

Frustrated because I've been sweating like a beast for at least three days now, and it's been about that long since I last had a shower.

Frustrated because we are leaving for the longest vacation we've ever taken as a family--next week--and I am totally overwhelmed with what I want to accomplish around the house before Sunday.

Frustrated because the everyday things just feel so difficult to get through sometimes.

• The dishes are piling up again (didn't I just wash them yesterday?).
• It's taking SO long to prepare this meal.  THIS one, the one I've made at least a hundred times--the one I could probably throw together in my sleep.
• It's taken me three days to fold and put away one load of laundry.
• Sweet Baby K dumped out the crayon box... the toy box... the pan lids... my lipsticks... for the umpteenth time.
• {insert your own ridiculousness here}

I finally broke down because, I'm really just frustrated with myself and the way I am handling--or not handling--this day--which has not been a bad day, I'll remind you.

In the midst of my tears I can see my O-boy.  The one I was just yelling at {not the best idea when you have strep throat, in case you were wondering} for doing something I've repeatedly asked him not to do.  He slowly approaches me and, in that sweet, small voice, says:

"I know sometimes things are hard to do, but sometimes all you can do is your best."

And I can't even fathom how he could possibly know how much I needed to hear that in this very moment, because I'm not really talking anymore at this point.  Just crying.

The Princess asked if I was cutting onions.  I said Yes, Mommy's cutting onions.

I can't help but to thank God for not nagging me or yelling at me, like I do with my kids sometimes.  He always speaks in a sweet, small voice--small, but full of grace enough for me, and enough left to share with my kids... and even enough for myself.

Is your home a haven?

 source



This weekend, my mom and I took my oldest two to visit her aunt, who is nearly 90 years old, and some other family members.  The trip down (and back) was nearly four hours long, and much too long a trip for Sweet Baby K, who stayed home with his daddy. 

I almost didn't go because K had a fever on Friday, but my husband insisted that we go and spend some time with relatives.  He is a loving father of four, and more than capable of caring for a sick baby. 

From the moment we arrived at my aunt's house, I was blown away by how comfortable my kids felt talking to everyone, most of whom they had never met.  O-boy and the Princess had a blast running along the countryside, blowing bubbles and playing with their cousins.  By the end of our trip, they became fascinated with my great aunt's house--the house her husband (God rest his soul) built many years ago.  O-boy was particularly intrigued, and eager to explore the grounds.

Aunt:  Where are you going?
O-boy:  To look around inside your house.
Aunt:  I don't think you should do that without asking first.
Me:  If you wander around someone's house without asking, it's impolite, and called snooping.  But if you want to see the house, then you can ask for a house tour.
O-boy:  Can I please have a house tour?
Aunt:  Well then.... come on!



My aunt showed us around her house, some places I had never seen before.  I thought about how she and my great uncle, and their four children all lived in the house together.  I imagined the good, bad, happy, and sad times they shared, and the things that brought them together.  I imagined what it must have been like to deal with the outside world, and return to a beautiful, cozy abode in the mountains.

My mom dropped the kids and me off at my place late that night.  My head didn't hit the pillow until after 1 am, but Baby K woke me up four hours later for an early Sunday morning snack.  After putting him back down, I found it hard to fall back asleep.  I couldn't get this thought out of my head:

Dear Lord, save us from the Groach.



My daughter is 8--which I remember being one of my favorite years as a child.  Her imagination is fertile, and the world is brimming with endless possibilities.  She loves to write and illustrate her own stories.  She's very inventive, and most recently invented a character named "The Groach."

The Groach--who is loosely based on a large pile of hodge podge sitting on a shelf in my bedroom--appears only in the late afternoon, and resembles a lopsided Christmas tree, with glowing red eyes and a permafrown. 

OH yes.

My oldest son found the Groach hilarious, at first.  Yep--it's all fun and games until someone gets scared poopless--which didn't take very long at all.  Annnnnnnd after just a few moments, he was crying inconsolably because the Groach was going to get him.  Or so he thought.

I could have said a special bedtime prayer that night, but we so often ask God to take away the nightmares [the anxiety, the fear, the bad stuff], rather than to grant us courage [wisdom, serenity, peace] from an endless supply.  The Groach reminded me that we all go through scary, painful, and uncertain times in life.  Just because you may or may not believe in God or another higher power does not grant you immunity from trouble and suffering.  But you may have access to tap into whatever you need at the moment.

Dance Parties & Dreamcatchers

Source

 

I told the kids a couple of forevers ago that we would make our own dreamcatchers.  They're pretty concerned, at this age, about warding off bad dreams that creep up in the middle of the night.  More so than paying homage to their Native American heritage, but that's to be expected.  We pray every night, that God would both keep away bad dreams, and help them to be brave and remember that God is always with us, and doesn't want us to be afraid.

I don't tell them this part--but, I also pray that God will protect them from evil spirits and presences.  Lord ha' mercy, if I told them that, they would probably never leave my bed!  I've had a couple of scary encounters of my own with the evil that lurks in the night... but that's a story for another time.

I've had a lot of luck finding all of the supplies at Hobby Lobby so far, plus their ubiquitous 40% off coupon makes for an irresistible deal.  When we finally start our little project, I'll happily share the deets.  Don't worry--I got you, boo.

I was in the middle of my online shopping, when our favorite dance party song came up on the kids' Pandora Kids Bop station-- the Cha Cha Slide (DJ Casper).  If you've ever been to a wedding or family reunion, or any family friendly event hosted by a DJ, you've probably heard and/or danced to the Cha Cha Slide.  It's--hands down--our family's favorite song to dance to together.  Even Baby K knows how to get funky!

Livs and I were laughing through the middle of the song, joking about having wedgies that feel like knives (we love to joke and sometimes play entirely too much), and O goes: "HEY!  You guys were talking so loud I couldn't get funky!"  It took all of my self control not to dissolve into a puddle of laughter in the middle of our living room floor. 

So much fun, these kids are!