The New Starbucks

Qdoba is the new Starbucks. It's my Starbucks, anyway. Hear me out. Qdoba plays great, upbeat music. There are huge windows for plenty of natural light and people-watching. The food is way better. I like to come here when I need some space to introvert. 

My husband and I started a new thing at the beginning of this year. You see, we are both suuuper introverted. We need alone time. But my husband works over 50 hours a week most weeks and I homeschool our 2 boys, 8 and 4. Oh and we recently adopted a puppy. So, alone time is hard to come by. And I'm not even kidding when I say we NEED alone time. We are better human beings if we can just get some space to recharge. 

I try to take about 2 hours once a week to myself (as does he). Today, however, I am aiming for 3-4 hours. It's been an especially stressful month...since getting the puppy...and my family deserves to have me at my best. Well, this is how I get there. By soaking in the quiet. By freely living in my head for awhile. This is how I process, let go, de-stress, plan, create. 

And that's where I am now. Sitting in a booth at Qdoba, laptop open to the left, nachos and water to the right, soaking up the natural light, people-watching, and typing away. Ahhh. It's a breath of fresh air. I find myself just taking slow, deep breaths as the tension in my body starts to recede. And wondering, what now?

I know I've been called back into writing. But I'm not sure what to write about yet. And I'm not sure if I can make regular time to write. So, do I start a blog? Without clear direction? That seems like a quick fail around the bend. I've always wanted to write a book. Alas, again, direction is needed. So, instead, I sit at Qdoba and type what comes to mind. I trust that if I am indeed to write, direction and purpose will come. 

{The Prayers of a Child}

Confession:  I have not been the most disciplined parent when it comes to bedtime prayers. Or a bedtime routine. Or routine. Eh, so I haven't been all that disciplined.

My sister- and brother-in-law's family has established the habit of having prayer time before bed. Each person gets an opportunity to pray. My sons and I have had the privilege of listening in and participating during visits and let me tell you:  it is just the most beautiful thing ever. Kids are so honest and it's a wondrous peek into their little hearts. We instantly fell in love with that special time and have tried to replicate it in our own family, though honestly we're quite hit and miss.

But I LOVE to hear my children pray. And I know it's important for them to learn how and why to pray from a young age, so we seize the opportunity as often as we can.

Tonight was one of those nights where I was tired and ready to "clock out". But God has been faithfully working on my self-obsessed, entitled mess and opening my eyes and heart to those around me. Like my children. They crave quality time with me. Time when we're not in a hurry, when we don't have work to do. So I slowed down the bedtime rush and agreed to pray and sing with them before leaving them to the often long ritual of actually falling asleep.

Per the norm, I asked who wanted to pray first and, also per the norm, they both did. My oldest had prayed first last time, so now it was my 2-year-old's turn. This was his prayer (essentially a paraphrase but quoting him to the best of my ability):

"Dear Jesus,

Thank you for helping me get out of the corner. Thank you for me unloading the dishwasher and the washer and the dryer."

So short. So simple. A little odd. (That's a 2 year old, for you.) The first sentence he has prayed many times before and it always makes me chuckle (especially since he doesn't go to timeout THAT often and almost never on the days he prays this). But tonight, it just hit me in a whole new way. Now I know he's only 2 and he's no theologian, but all I could hear was, "Thank you, Jesus, for saving me. Thank you for giving me purpose." And I thought, "Amen."

{Genesis}

I just finished the book of Genesis 2 days ahead of schedule! (I wanted to build up some buffer for those inevitable days when things don't go as planned.)

Reading through all of Genesis in just 2 days gave me a fresh perspective on narratives I've heard many, many times. I did my best to not let the details slow me down, though I did make notes of what I want to study further once I've completed this.

I noticed themes I have never noticed before. For example: "weep" and "wept". I'm pretty sure every patriarch wept at least once. I found that interesting.

Here's the highlights of what I learned in Genesis:

*God cares for us. Deeply. Each and every one of us.

*God is gentle, firm, compassionate, patient (read: LONGsuffering), merciful, faithful, true, trustworthy.

*Don't take matters into your own hands. You can't speed up God's timing (though I've tried, as they did, *ahem*), nor do you get to decide or change God's plan (yep, I've tried that, too), and there are ugly consequences if you do (that could have been avoided).

*Also, we can't ultimately thwart God's plan (*comforting*).

*He knows us so well.

*He loves us anyway.

There's still so much I don't understand (and likely, never will; like The Flood...so many questions), but these narratives came alive to me in a whole new way.

Now on to Exodus...

{Big Picture}

About 4 or 5 years ago, I set out to read the Bible through in a year. Chronologically. (To mix things up.) See, I wasn't sure if I had read every single book in the Bible. I thought I likely had at some point, but I couldn't be certain. This way, I would know I had.

I didn't make it very far. So the next year, I started over with the same goal. I made it much further, but still didn't finish. So the following year, I picked up where I had left off and kept trucking. By the end of that 3rd year, while I had made great progress, I still had not finished and my goal fell by the wayside.

Last year, the women's Bible study I was a part of, went through a book called the 66 Love Letters together while also following a survey reading plan of the Bible. I enjoyed this study very much, though I did not finish either the 66 Love Letters or even a survey of the Bible.

See, part of this is because I am a detail-person. I like to focus on the little bits. From each and every angle. This is a good thing, but there are other perspectives to be considered. I'm always amazed by how others can see the theme of a whole book of the Bible or how the books are interconnected. I can't see such a perspective because I'm over here with my magnifying glass combing through the details. It's time for me to take a step back. Yet, I cannot face another year of trying to read through my Bible...and not finishing. A year is a long commitment after all.

But last week, I stumbled across the calculations of a website called, How long does it take to read the Bible?. It takes into account your reading speed and your time goal, then spits out a daily plan of which chapters to read and about how long it will take you to read it. I realized that I could read the entire Bible in less than a year by dedicating less than an hour of reading a day, even with my terribly low reading speed.

So I've decided to take the leap, perhaps biting off more than I can chew, by setting out to read the Bible in 3 months at just less than 45 minutes a day. (Along with 66 Love Letters.)

I have no idea what the outcome of this journey will be. Will I finish strong? Will I get distracted and let it fall by the wayside again? I don't know. But I do know that any time spent in God's Word is not a waste (paraphrase of a quote I recently read and cannot seem to get Google to release to me).

So here goes. It's time to follow that scarlet thread through these 66 letters of love.

{Time to Engage}

I’ve been walking around our cozy apartment, lights dimmed, just breathing in the quiet. Long, deep soul-refreshing breaths. Does anyone else need this at the end of the day? I’ve heard so much on how I *should* go to bed when my spouse goes to bed, but how I need this quiet calm. This time to slow down my heart rate. To attempt to process even a moment of this day. To tidy up a bit. To wash my face absent of questions and demands. Maybe even to watch some TV and color in an enchanted forest with my gel pens.

Granted, our schedule is weird. My husband goes to bed at 7PM. Earlier if he can get away with it. So I send my kids off to bed a little earlier than I would otherwise (they make up for it by being early risers). But I just canNOT bring myself to go to bed at that ridiculous hour most nights. Especially not when the quiet calls to me.

And so it is here, with the humdrum of the dishwasher running in the background—and the interruptions of a loud little man that can’t quite fall asleep himself yet, either—that I can hear my oldest’s words, retold by my husband, echo in my ears once again: “Mommy doesn’t play with us that much. She just reads us a lot of books.” And all I hear, piercing my heart, is “You failed.”

The worst part? He’s not wrong. They do ask me to play with them and I often seem to say, “Later, I’m working on [fill-in-the-blank].” I have legitimate responsibilities. There’s a lot going on in this season of life. However, there has been a lot going on in former seasons of life and I expect there will be a lot going on in future seasons of life. Dishes are not fleeting. They will be there.  a l w a y s .  Laundry? Not going anywhere. Facebook is a trip down the rabbit’s hole, for sure. My children, however. Well, my time with them is finite. So short. The blink of an eye. If I am truly lucky, I have 12 more years with my oldest at home and 16 more years with my youngest. It sounds like a nice chunk now, but I know how quickly these past years have gone by and it only seems to fly by faster every year. This time with them is like sand in an hourglass. Grains are slipping by every second. No do-overs. They will never be this young again.

The last thing I need is more guilt heaped on my shoulders. And guilt will not benefit myself or them. But grace and perseverance, perspective and wisdom will. I must learn to get outside of my own head. To set the never-ending to-do list running through my mind aside. To sit and play with my kids while they still want me to. Better yet, to run and play with them. I must find a way to turn off my anxious mind and really engage with them. To be less inhibited with them. To be silly and free and well, fun. And so many can attest that “fun” has never been one of my strong qualities. Thankfully, these little men bring out the best in me. They are a refiner’s fire like none I’ve ever known.

So I sit here tonight and fight the urge to plan and analyze and think my way to being a better mom and I simply lay it at Jesus’ feet, asking for grace and encouragement to be the mom they need me to be. The mom He wants me to be. Because the truth is, I can’t do this. But He can. Because with God all things are possible. I trust Him to work out the details in my life. To cover us all in His grace. To make all things new. And to weave the fabric of our family into something beautiful.

{2 Years Later: Scarred But Blessed}

2 years, 6 days ago, I took another test just to make sure I wasn't actually pregnant, like I suspected, before I ran the 1st Annual Spencer C. Duncan Make It Count 5K. I made it to the finish line, exhausted, and a friend's mom revived me with a banana. The very first banana I'd been able to eat--apart from those in banana pudding--since sometime during my pregnancy with Kendrick when he alerted me to the fact that he did NOT like bananas.

2 years, 4 days ago, I finally got that positive test I'd been waiting for, but it was faint. Fearing what might be coming, I announced to only a couple of people, asked desperately for prayer, and took a few "bump" pictures because I wanted to enjoy whatever time there might be.

2 years, 3 days ago, I took another test in the hopes it would be darker, but if possible, it was even more faint than the day before.

2 years, 2 days ago, I went into the doctor for a blood test. Before I could even get the results, I noticed my water had broken. At Chick-fil-a of all places, while I was at lunch with a friend. I knew, of course, what this meant, but against all odds, still, I hoped. The results of the blood test were 18--very low HCG; indicative of a pregnancy, just not a healthy one.

2 years, 1 day ago, the back cramps began. I rested and prayed and hoped.

2 years ago today, it became official. I miscarried.

I was sad, angry, confused. Yet I was also relieved to finally have the scientific proof backing up what I'd already known each time before. I felt damaged, inept. Why was having a baby so hard for me? All of me was broken--mind, body, and soul. I grieved deeply but thoroughly. I cried out to God in my prayer journal, no longer asking for rescue for our baby, but for healing and wholeness of my body, understanding and acceptance of this loss, and future healthy children.

2 Greek words had been jumping out at me during my Bible studies the week I was the box that housed Schroedinger's cat:  anastasis (meaning, "resurrection") and zoë (meaning, "[full, abundant, new] life"). While I had no earthly proof of the baby's gender, it was settled. Her name was Anastasia Zoë, meaning, "resurrected to new life." I took note of her A to Z name; He is the Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last. He is in control, faithful, loving, merciful, gracious, God of all the universe and Savior of my soul. He was the Rock that was higher than I. He was near this brokenhearted girl and He was faithful to bind up my wounds. He beckoned that I come boldly to His throne of grace that I might obtain grace and find mercy to help in my time of need.

As I shared my bit of wisdom and encouragement with a friend who recently suffered a miscarriage, I thought of those who lived out this verse to me:  "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."-2 Corinthians 1:3-4. I looked back along the path and realized just how far I'd walked--just a step at a time. As I told her, I could see the truth evident on my own heart:  the scar will remain, but the wound won't be open and raw forever.

True to His Word, He knew the plans He had for me, plans to prosper me not harm me, plans to give me hope and a future. 11 months (minus 8 days) later, I held a beautiful baby boy in my arms with my oldest son beaming at the newest arrow in our little quiver. "Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, Because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul, 'Therefore I hope in Him!'" (Lamentations 3:22-24).

{Wife}

My son was chattering away as usual when my husband gave me a tender peck. At the point my son expected a reply, my husband's response was, "Don't mind me. I'm just kissing my wife!"

A chuckle mature beyond my son's years escaped. "Nooo, that not your wife. That MY wife!"

We both laughed as my husband explained that I am indeed his wife and my son's MOM. Our son exploded, "You're being mean, Dad!"

My husband went on to assure him that he would grow up and one day find his own wife. His despair and frustration only grew. "Are you afraid you won't be able to find a wife?" my husband wisely asked. The tears overflowed as his anxiety was brought to light. He wrapped his little arms around his daddy's neck and his daddy reassured him:

"Are you a nice guy? Are you smart? Are you strong?" Our son responded in the affirmative each time. "Girls like smart, strong, nice guys, bud. You won't have any trouble finding a wife!"

To me, my husband asked incredulously, "What 3-year-old worries about not being able to find a wife??"

Our son is certainly one of a kind.

{Baseball}

All settled in for a relaxing Friday night of watching movies, my son approached me, glove in hand, and asked me if we could go play ball. Unfortunately, it was pretty wet outside due to the rain we received, so I suggested we play Saturday or Sunday when it should be warm and dry. Not sure what reaction I would receive, I braced myself {this is what the "trying 3s" does to a parent!}. To my surprise, my son said, "Let's play pretend baseball!" and threw an imaginary ball at me. As I caught the ball with my makeshift invisible glove, I smiled at his resiliency and creativity. Who knew a pretend game of catch could be as much fun as the conventional norm??

{Tickled}

At breakfast this morning, I was peeling and eating an orange. I kept coughing {once over my shoulder instead of covering my mouth...my son pounced on the opportunity to chastise me} and commented aloud, "Something is tickling my throat!"

My son's eyebrows shot up as he gasped, "Is it my baby?!?!"

Now I was tickled in a whole new way. I quickly assured him it was not baby brother, but likely the orange I was eating.

{Beautifully Bold}

My husband and I quite resemble the label "Backrow Baptist." The back corner is by far our preferred place to sit. This morning, however, we arrived at church later than usual. I cringed as I crept further and further up the aisle looking for open seats on the end. {I despise crawling over people to get to the middle seats--yes, even more than sitting in the front.} At about Row 5, we were able to slip into empty seats.

As the music started, my son stood up on tiptoes to look over the row of chairs in front of us. His eyes lit up as he watched the church's small orchestra at the front. Sitting in the back, he'd never been able to see them before! He was absolutely in awe, soaking it all in.

A few songs later, a group of children gathered on stage to sing the morning's special. He turned to me with wide eyes and exclaimed, "Them SINGING!" He watched a bit longer then pivoted and declared, "Me go sing too!" while scooting off the edge of his chair. Thankfully I was able to talk him down before he dashed on stage to join their chorus. However, at the end of service, when his time to go up in front of the congregation had not yet come--and indeed, his daddy was explaining that he would need to be older before that time came--there was a fat, quivering lip, shaking chin, and many tears spilling.

Taking in this sorrowful face and recalling the exciting passion he exhibited during the service, I was filled with pride and wonder at his courageous desire to clamber upon stage with children he's never met to sing before an entire sanctuary full of people he doesn't know. Sometimes I wish for such boldness in myself and I pray the world doesn't snatch it from him.

{Music to My Ears}

*FLUSH*

What an incredibly beautiful sound the flushing of a toilet can be!

There was a time that I quite literally thought our son would go to school in diapers. I had been potty training him for over a year with depressingly little visible progress. Every potty training trick known to mankind I had employed, but to no avail.

Suddenly--I couldn't even tell you when--he turned a corner. My husband and I noticed he was having fewer and fewer accidents. Last weekend, we discovered he is now tall enough to use The Big Potty. Then just the other day, my husband asked when our son's last accident had been. Neither of us could remember.

So now the training potty is being cleaned and stored away until *gulp* the adventure begins anew with baby boy #2 and a celebratory adventure {involving pizza, games, and prize-winning tickets, I'm sure} is in the works because...*deep breath*...{dare I say it?}... our son is OFFICIALLY POTTY-TRAINED!!! Hallelujah!

Now keeping our fingers crossed that baby brother's arrival has no backsliding effects...

{After Dinner Entertainment}

A few nights ago, my son pulled up his chair to the doorway of the dining room. He plopped down with a cup of Cheez-its and waited excitedly for the show to begin.

And what was the evening's entertainment? Me. Playing opposite the {vacuum cleaner}. Oh yes, the child who would run away screaming from the vacuum cleaner--easily through 2 years of age--now takes a front row seat, snacks in hand, to watch the magic happen.

Perhaps if I vacuumed more often, it would be neither a fright nor a novelty...

{Abandoned}

Deepest apologies to my poor, forsaken blog and followers. You have been abandoned long  enough. It's time for new beginnings and of course, new posts!

My husband's homecoming, the reintegration process, our son, a new, healthier lifestyle, our rollercoaster of multiple miscarriages, {finally} a HEALTHY pregnancy, and my monthly column have all kept me quite busy over this past year.

But, I'm ready for a comeback! So feel free to laugh and cry along with me as I share but a glimpse into our hectic, messy, beautiful, {abundant} life.

{Nieces and Nephews}

I have gotten one niece a year for four years running: 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010. Each of them unique and all of them beautiful and sweet. I love to watch as they make their personalities known.

Over 5 weeks from 2011 to 2012, I got two handsome nephews. I know my son will be so excited to have some fellow testoterone.

My son was also born in 2010 (5 days before my 4th niece). So, in 6 years, my {husband's} family has welcomed 7 new babies! 7 little souls. 7 unique personalities. 4 girls + 3 boys. To some it may seem overwhelming, but we LOVE it. Every year there's the anticipation of a new bundle of joy. Every year the arrival of a soft, warm, sweet baby to hug and kiss.

Well, ladies, it's time to draw straws and see who's up for 2013! ;)

{Vegetables at Lunch?!}

I am not a fan of vegetables. There are some I like to eat. And I do the best at dinnertime; that's when I at least think to add vegetables to my meal. But if I have a choice between broccoli (my "favorite" vegetable) and chocolate cake, I'm gonna go with the cake. Every time.

However, I am changing. And it's about time. Not that there's anything wrong with chocolate cake. It's just that my diet needs a makeover, along with my body. If I want to be stronger, more fit, more slender, more energetic, then I cannot live on cake alone.

Today for lunch, I got out the steaming basket (that I also used for dinner last night!) and put in 2 ounces of {previously cooked} frozen chicken, 1/8 of a green bell pepper, 1/2 of a medium-sized red potato, 1/2 of a carrot, and 1/2 cup of frozen green beans. For LUNCH. Amazing. I didn't know I had it in me.

It seems like a small step. But it's a big one for me.

{NOTE: Lest you think my taste buds suffered, after steaming all of that healthiness, I melted a tablespoon of Smart Balance, seasoned it quite well, then poured it over everything. Delicious!}

{Keep On Truckin'}

Sometimes all I can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other. My mind teases me saying, "You could stay in bed...it's warm there." But, God encourages me to get up and press on. Staying busy will make the days til Homecoming go by much faster and much more joyfully.

It helps that I have an almost-two-year-old. He's pretty insistent when he decides it's time to get up. His best worst trick is to peel back my covers. Notice I said PEEL. As in slowly. Ahh! I can't even begin to convey how unnerving it feels. Not to mention, COLD. But who can deny the handsome face saying "Eat! Eat!"?

We have come such a long way since the beginning of this deployment. In the beginning, I tried to stay busy by going to the gym, but it just wasn't feasible at the time. My son would scream for fifteen minutes until the childcare worker would come and get me. And that was when he was well. Most of the time, he was battling asthma and random viruses.

Now, it's a completely different scenario. He reminds me to go to the gym. I love it! The only time he cries? When it's time to leave. And even then, not often. He has settled nicely into our gym routine and even just that little piece of our day brings us both the joy and renewed sense of hope to tackle the rest of the day. And every day down is another day closer.

{Absence}

I have been absent for over a month now. My apologies. I have been working on a new project, of sorts. Actually, a job. It's a long story, but I was hired on as a columnist for a local monthly publication. It's a bit stressful because I overthink everything, but I am so excited! My first column came out this month. Check out the digital issue: http://issuu.com/layersmedia/docs/so_dec11_32page

Once I settle in, I'll be back here, writing more stories about my almost two-year-old and our crazy life together!

Angina Annoyance

For a {Sleeping Beauty}, I stirred quite early this morning. Before 6 o'clock. Before the sun had even waved 'Hello!'

It must be nerves. I have an all-important meeting today. It will be one of those life-defining events. And because I am such an introspective, self-analyzing, overthinker, I am able to foresee it as such. {Who does that?}

When my body first began to stir {it has been established that my brain lags behind for the better part of half an hour}, it was for the sole purpose of relieving my bladder of its overtime duties. Then, subconscious worry threw spears at my brain in the form of angina-masked-as-a-heart-attack-inducing thoughts.

What if I do not have enough questions prepared?

What if I cannot find my Microsoft Office CDs to have the necessary programs re-installed on my newly wiped-clean computer?

Maybe I should write an 'About Me' section in my notes for the meeting...

Oh, I don't believe I have any good writing ideas left in me! What if I am on the verge of a 40-year writer's-block-of-a-desert here?!

My brain tried to repel the attacks by refusing to wake up, but my body was thrown into mad motion by some unseen force. I searched my desk {in the dark} high and low for my Microsoft Office package to no avail. I abandoned the search to write an 'About Me' section in my notes for the meeting. And I began to brainstorm {yet again} possible ideas to put in motion should this meeting go well.

RI-diculous.

Time to take a deep breath. IN. And OUT. Time to make some coffee. Time to step out in faith, believing that God's got this.

I can do this. I am prepared. This meeting will go well, whatever the outcome.

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy{/girl} who'll decide where to go...

Out there things can happen and frequently do
To people as brainy and footsy as you...

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)

Kid, you'll move mountains!
So...you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your moutain is waiting.
So...get on your way!

~Excerpts from "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" by Dr. Seuss

{Special thanks to www.teamhope.com!}

{Sleeping Beauty}

You know those people {mainly on TV} that jump out of bed in the morning, hair perfect, face perfect, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, smiling from ear to ear, ready to take on the day?

Well I'm not one of them.

"If people were meant to pop out of bed, we'd all sleep in toasters." ~Author Unknown, attributed to Jim Davis

I wake up...slowly. I wake up...cranky. It doesn't really matter how many hours of sleep I get. Regardless, it is going to take me 30 to 45 minutes to become {me}. Before then, I am short{er}-tempered. I am bleary-eyed. My speech is slurred and my coordination is even worse than normal. I don't like to make small talk. I want to be invisible until the stupor wears off.

Yes, I have much in common with an angry drunk when I stumble out of bed awakened by the crying of one who has not yet learned the art of playing in his bed.

So why don't I set an alarm and allow myself the necessary time to wake up BEFORE my son? Laziness. My alarm goes off and I don't {want} to get up. Truthfully, I don't {want} to get up when I hear my son crying either, but I MUST.

"The older generation thought nothing of getting up at five every morning--and the younger generation doesn't think much of it either." ~John J. Welsh

I'm thinking it is time, {ahem, once again} to implement the morning routine. Starting with setting an alarm and going through my entire wake-up process BEFORE Prince Charming begins his wail. Also thinking it's high time he learned how to play in his crib.

Yes, I think I should. My mornings were much better when I got certain things done before my son got up.

"Be pleasant until ten o'clock in the morning and the rest of the day will take care of itself." ~Elbert Hubbard

Back to the Basics
1. Coffee
2. Bible Study and Prayer Journal
3. Breakfast
4. Dishes and Laundry

{As I sit here, writing this blog, I am cranky. I think when I am sick, it no longer takes me 30 minutes to wake up...it takes 7 days.}

A few more quotes about {morning}, some thought-provoking, some I fully resonate with:

"I have a 'carpe diem' mug and, truthfully, at six in the morning the words do not make me want to seize the day. They make me want to slap a dead poet." ~Joanne Sherman

"One key to success is to have lunch at the time of day most people have breakfast." ~Robert Brault

"The sun has not caught me in bed in fifty years." ~Thomas Jefferson

"Early morning cheerfulness can be extremely obnoxious." ~William Feather

"I don't think jogging is healthy, especially morning jogging. If morning joggers knew how tempting they looked to morning motorists, they would stay home and do sit-ups." ~Rita Rudner

{It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World}

Welcome to Toddlerdom!

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."

Ain't that the truth?!

This is a collection of mini-stories {shorter than short stories} that have taken place over the last few weeks:

My son was laying on our long vanity {counter} in our bathroom. I was changing his diaper. I had undone the tabs and was leaning away from him trying to peel a wipe apart from the stack. Having no luck, I took all hands off my son and continued to try to wrench this particular wipe away from the others. As I look back to check on my son, I see him do the unthinkable. He reached down between his legs, took hold of his {untabbed} diaper, and yanked. To my horror {and I'm sure his}, the POOPY diaper landed square on his FACE. From under the diaper, I heard a shocked whine of complete panic and confusion. I came to his rescue, removing the diaper, only to find a human patty ON. HIS. FACE. I quickly went into {Disinfect Mode}. And my son? Let's just say he hasn't done THAT again.

On this same foul day, as I was most assuredly doing something incredibly important (yeah, right), my son was running to and from the bathroom. This should have been a sign. A flashing neon sign at that. But, I was preoccupied. Finally, my awareness sharpened and I began to take it all in. The pitter patter of excited little feet. The Oreo wrapper. The splash of water. Oh yes, my son was dipping the Oreo wrapper IN. THE. TOILET.

Then there was the day {thank goodness, a different day}, when I forgot to put away ONE crayon. One BLUE crayon. Yes, the other 23 were safely put away, but that ONE LITTLE BLUE CRAYON was not. And so, it was on my previously white bathroom door. My TV screen. My brand-new TV console. A better mom might have taken pictures of the little blue drawings of her {prodigy}. I, however, disciplined my son and scrubbed away the blue.

At this point, I'm sure you are wondering "So isn't this just 'the worst of times'??" Close. But then there was the time he was playing in my mother-in-law's backyard, near the air conditioner unit, and it kicked on. He went into a panic, signed "HELP!", and ran to us, looking over his shoulder at the monster that had come to life.

There was the time he disassembled his potty chair, dragged the bottom portion of it into my bedroom {upside down}, straddled it, and began to ride it, pretending it was a "vroom vroom."

There was also the day, at his great-grandmother's house, that he finally "got" a new sign and signed "MORE" and "HELP" with such enthusiasm and excitement that my mom and I died laughing.

There are the times {plural!} that he grabs my face and kisses me. The times he crawls into my lap just to get a hug, then hops back down. The times he looks at me, smiles at me, and laughs {'course you would too if you saw me when I first wake up}.

There are many more "best" and "worst" times, these are just a few. {Ahh, The Life of a Temporarily Single Mom with an 18-month-going-on-18-year-old}

{No animals or humans were harmed during the making of this blog, however: while writing this blog, my son began to pester me. I looked him in the eye and said, "I am writing a story about YOU. It's called 'It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World." To which he replied, "MAD MAD MAD MAD MAD!" Then knocked over a lamp.}