Treasure

I think our world could be a pretty amazing place, that is, if we all held on to the treasures of our childhood.

The sweet praises of our mother's voice or the glint in our father's eye of pride.

The belly laughs.

The giggles.

The slobbery secrets and slobberier kisses. You know, the ones with the WIDE open mouth, Brooke is starting to do this and it melts my heart. Followed by the biggest mouth wide open smiles. Seriously, I could EAT this kid up!

Giggles of glee and squiggly squirms.

Squeals of delight.

Ants in your pants. (Sometimes literally, or sand, or dirt, or... or...).

Red rover, red rover. S'mores. Ghost in the graveyard. Kick the Can.

Cabbage Patch Kids. My little pony. Strawberry Shortcake. Barbie, the old one with semi-more realistic boob size and absolutely less realistic waist and hips. (No, I don't think Barbie made kids anorexic.)

Campfires and sleepovers, the kind in tents in the backyard (with an extension cord, TV, stereo and many millions of giggles, Oh, that was just Lisa, Kaytie and I?).

What if we had a treasure box with all of those sweet memories?

I think if every child was given a box filled with their mother and father's voices through their infancy, they would know true love. I catch myself whispering to Brooke, "You are beautiful, smart, strong," along with many other praises. I hope she hears me, and holds it in her heart. I remember my mom's voice whispering to me, maybe that is why I love her so much, because I know I did nothing but be born to her, and I had her from that moment until always. But so many people are abandoned, or their parents forget to praise them, or they don't have the time. Every one is praised and adored as an infant, and I don't think it really is lost. Simply, we let it fade away. If we had those reminders that we are worth something to someone. Man. I bet people would be WAY nicer.

But mostly, I think if we all held on to those nighttime prayers...

I know a lot of people, and I think every one of those people said nighttime prayers. If every night, every soul on this earth crawled into bed and said their prayers, it might be a more wonderful place around here. And- maybe not, but could it hurt?

Surely if we all had Jesus... but surely that'd be too much to ask. (Sense the sarcasm.)

Honestly...

HONESTLY- I just don't really try and impress anyone, because really it doesn't matter.

I could tell you of all of the awesome wifely things I did today or last night... but really I'm just a good old normal wifearoo. (But the best mom on earth.)

It's my goal to write it all down, but not to impress anyone, that is FAR too exhausting. So whether I share an awesome feat, or a silly moment, ahhhh, to just be real about life is so freeing, and I am so happy I've always been okay with doing that.

Today, I had so much spit up between my toes, down my shirt, covering my arm and even in my carpet that I should have re-showered and gotten the shampooer out. But I didn't. I grabbed a baby wipe and took care of business, because honestly, I am JUST TOO STINKING LAZY to shower twice today, and keep my baby from napping to shampoo the carpet (never mind I don't have a shampoo-er)

I didn't flush the toilet today until I pooped, yup, I poop. In this house, honestly, we live by the phrase "If it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown, flush it down." I'm all about saving the earth, one less flush a time. So, that means when company comes over, I nonchalantly use the restroom just to flush the toilet. So... if you ever come over and there is pee left, you know why.

I struggle with this thought- Stop writing every little thing about your life on facebook, no one cares that you woke up with a pimple, it's really okay NOT to tell us all your minute by minute plans for the day... but then, I blog. Hmm, is it hypoctrical? I'm not sure, I have a self discussion, a little something like this weekly:
"Oh my word, seriously?"
"Jeanny says, 'Oh my word.'"
"I know, that is why I say it, I feel like it's okay since she's the pastor's wife."
"Whatever, no really, oh my word, are people really that narcissistic that they have to post pictures of their lunch, or log on to facebook and change their status 5 times an hour... all day long?"
"Well, you blog about your life."
"Right, but this is optional to read."
"And facebook isn't?"
"Well... I mean, it is more so, you know?"
"Sure, I KNOW... but you decide to log on and go through the news feed and read everything."
"True. But really, it just comes up."
"Then don't log on to facebook."
"Right, but you know blogging is totally separate, people have to seek this out, or click the link, Facebook is just right there, and seriously?"
"You're crazy."

See the dilema? Gah.

I still haven't vacuumed. Honest.

I don't think I'll ever want Brooke to sleep in her own bedroom, I like having her right next to me. And no, Jon and I don't have marriage problems. Everything is extremely lovely and peachy... ahem. I just like having her in our room, it is so much easier, and snuggling as a family is always an option.

Honestly, I almost got teary tonight as Jon and I left visiting baby Haylee, and her parents of course :). Jon said he'd like to become a member at Faith if we're really ready to make it our home. That scared me. That's a big step. That's like a real divorce if in 10 years our kids want to go to church with classmates, then again, I think it's wrong to leave a church just because your kids say they want to go elsewhere... so I guess I just turned THAT down. Put your fists down crazies, I really think it is. I have always believed that you are married to the church, not just THE church, but your church. Leaving is like a divorce. And we do not want to divorce the church that we select as our home base. I'm cool with our kids going to youth group at other places, but our family church will remain. Some of you may call me crazy, and think myself a witch, because this means Jon leaves his home church. We have cried, prayed, cried, fought, listed, and tossed and turned over the decision. Both, or one of us would have to leave our church eventually, we did not come from the same church. It is just happening that we feel Faith is the better home for our family. What does that mean though? Egad! There really aren't that many people in this phase of life/age bracket at Faith... but that doesn't mean we shouldn't listen to what has been placed on our hearts. Because shoot, the people who are in our age bracket are cool, and I think maybe we have TIME for each other, which I feel is totally a foreign concept some places. I hope to really build strong relationships with people at our home church. We talked about where we fit, what ministries we think we'd be a part of and both said: HONESTLY, if we are over-involved, we'll burn out. If we do more than 2 things a week, we'll probably tire out. But that is just where we are at in life. How cool to hear your husband think about doing a super early morning bible study? Or to discuss a ministry he'd like to be involved in, or start? I didn't even think he knew that it existed. He's super hot, and awesome.

Honestly, I am tired tonight. My thighs hurt from walking the baby. That is pathetic, we walked around the block. But even more honestly, I'll probably drive aforementioned block tomorrow to prove to myself that it is longer than it seems... and uphill.

Honestly, I have been thinking a lot lately about old friends, and I hope they are doing okay. And really, I've been praying for more people to connect to and share life with. And I am so excited for what is happening at Faith, and in general in my life.

God is good, honestly.

And, I'm just going to continue to be really honest, and not try to impress you, I hope that's okay.

Why every dad needs a daughter

I read a book once called Why a Daughter Needs a Dad, and cried tears of joy and longing as I thought of my husband and his precious daughter who would soon be born.

Then I got to thinking, why a daughter needs a dad? Why every dad needs a daughter is more like it.

Every dad needs a daughter to remind him to treat his wife with love, honor and respect, to teach her what to expect from a man.

Every dad needs a daughter to remind him he is a hero, her hero.

Every dad needs a daughter to love him for who he is, including his silly belly farts on her tummy.

Every dad needs a daughter to teach him patience, even when it means plugging a paci 300 times in twenty minutes into her rosy lips.

Every dad needs a daughter to encourage him to work hard every day for her.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him gentle.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him on his toes.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him in shape.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him cleaning his guns.

Every dad needs a daughter to hold on to.

Every dad needs a daughter to snuggle.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him on his knees, praying for her life, her future, and who she will become.

And not every daddy gets that daughter, but I know Jonathan is the most blessed father because he has his little girl Blyn, and I really thank God for that.

I used to...

People say that when you have kids, you will not remember what life was like before then.

I remember and look back fondly, but I understand what they mean. Clearly you won't "forget" what life used to be like, but it is so different now.

I used to watch countless hours of television at night, NOW, I snuggle a little girl who needs me, I plug pacis in countless times (ok, about 10 tonight), and I rub the roundest head I've ever seen until her sapphire blue eyes close in the darkness.

I used to cook without an apron on, NOW I wrap my child to my chest as I cook in the most beautiful kitchen in the world.

I used to vacuum before bed, NOW I don't vacuum. Really. I don't. Haven't since we moved here, it's been almost 10 weeks... that's kind of gross, but I swiffer often. Don't judge.

I used to have my phone volume all the way up, NOW I'm not sure where my phone even is.

I used to run to answer the phone, NOW, it can wait, whatever it is.

I used to shower every other day, NOW I shower every day, twice a day because of the most beautiful spitter upper on the block.

I used to want to walk hand in hand with Jon through the neighborhood, NOW I dream about him holding Brooke's hand on our family walks, I'll still hold his other one for the rest of my life. :) I think that's important, no matter how many children we have, we will always be hand in hand. AMEN.

I used to do my hair, put on foundation, blush, eye liner, 2 eye shadows, mascara, and chapstick, NOW I'm lucky to get on some mascara and brush my hair.

I used to do laundry once a week, NOW I do it every stinking day.

I used to go to work every day, I used to wear dress clothes, I used to wear a size 10/12, I used to wonder what my babies would look like, I used to do so many things.

Now, I listen for cries, watch the lights on the monitor, change about 5 diapers a day, plan my life around a 13 pound miracle, and watch my best friend cherish every moment with his little girl.

I would not change my life for the world and hope my Blyn finds the same as she grows, to love every moment, just the way it is.

To carry my daughter, kiss her face, hold her hand, and pat her bottom are the sweetest things to spend my days doing. What did I USED to do again?

Mommy Memory

It will happen.

The dreaded Mommy Memory, you know, where mid sentence you have no idea what you were going to say?

Or perhaps you wake up in the middle of the night with your shirt pulled up exposing yourself and you swear you just fed your kid... but did you? Yea, I still have NO IDEA if I fed Brooke in the middle of the night last night. 5am, I remember that, anytime before? Clueless.

Possibly you forgot to throw out your breast pads before tossing the bra into the washer. Maybe you left them on the floor of the bedroom because the nearest trash can is just too far. At least your husband can use them in the middle of the night for a bloody nose, not that we'd do that... That's just gross...

I forget the laundry (ok.... maybe I just "forget" that), grocery items, what time I was supposed to be somewhere, where I put that stinking fill in the blank.

Ah, the joys of the mommy memory, I'll take it any day!

She get it from her Mamma...

I honestly sing this song by Juvenille in my head all the time... but only the "She get it from her Mamma" part, I don't know the rest of the words, honestly, I'm a white girl who listens to KLove only- peace out.

So ANYWAYS- Today, my little punk is 2 months old, and no I won't go on and on about how big she is, how old she is, or how fast it has gone, because it hasn't gone that fast. One day I'll look back and go WOAH! Or possibly even LIKE WOAH! But, not today, or yesterday, or tomorrow, I revel in each day, so much that I reek of spit up, revel in that! :) But I was thinking, my 2 month old pictures look quite a bit like my punk, because well duh, she get it from her MAMMA! :) Some things at least!

Tonight, I put her to bed at 8:13 and she was asleep by 8:45, early bedtime? SHE GET IT FROM HER MAMMA! (You can sing that if you like, in your head of course, because it is not like you'd be reading this out loud anyway...)

When in aforementioned bed, she wiggled her little wormy body in her sweet sleep sack (A bag like contraption you zipper your child into for torture, scratch that, comfort without a blanket.) all the way to the side of her bed, right next to her mamma. I slept with my parents until I was 14, legs entangled with my mamma, altogether now, SHE GET IT FROM HER MAMMA!

Farts, need I say more? She get it from her mamma. (Should that be embarrassing? It so is not, it's a scientific fact, everyone farts, shocking? I know!)

Her sweet dark hair, she get it from her mamma.

Her sense of extreme flexibility with change- she DOES NOT get from her mamma! This child will go with the flow, change of pants, she's game, change to a new outfit, sold! Not this woman- don't change your hair color without warning, I might feel nervous. Don't move, I will think you're leaving me. Don't change anything, okay? I like my little world just the way it is, thank God Brooke got that flexibility for change from her daddy!

And so, in my head I am hearing...

Oh, where she get her eyes from? She get it from her mamma... (Who knows!)
Oh, where she get her thighs from? She get it from her mamma... (Probably, poor kid)
Where she learn how to cook from? She get it from her mamma... (I hope so, or else she will only eat macaroni and hot dogs, and REALLY have some thighs to sing about!)
Oh, where she get them looks from? She get it from her mamma... (Uh huh, yaaaaaaaa hahaha)
But where she get that bootie from? She get it from her mamma... (I love my black girl bootie, I hope she gets it! Oh an Puh-LEASe, don't be offended.)
But where she get her class from? She get it from her mamma... (Clearly, classy is my middle name.)
Oh, where she get that chest from? She get it from her mamma... (That is inappropriate, but some day, we'll pray for it)
Where she learn how to dress from? She get it from her mamma... (Yes Brooke, follow my lead)

Oh Juvenille, she get it all from her Mamma.

I'll send up a...

Glory for 2 hour long (plus) naps!

Hallelujah for grandparents who babysit for free!

Amen for food in the house, AC, a warm bed, and a toilet that works!

That's right for my Moby carrying ability, seriously, LOVE this thing!

Uh huh for having a job I can do from home!

Oooooeeee for pacifiers, because honestly, they get my kid to sleep until 9am on a Saturday.