Return to Sender

Don't you just love getting packages, letters, and email? I get so excited when I hear the UPS man's big brown truck rumbling onto my street. I run to the window, excited to see if he will stop and drop off a package at my doorstep. When we see the mailman stopping at my box, the kids excitedly yell out in unison "Can I go get the mail? Pleeeeeeease." I LOVE, absolutely LOVE to open up my inbox and find that I have personalized emails from those I love. I savor the click of opening each one and finding the morsel inside that is just for me.

But, I hate spam and junk mail and companies trying to get me to accept their "free" gift. I don't want that junk. I want to take those things and take a big red permanent marker and write across each and every one of them...RETURN TO SENDER!!!!!!

And God wants us to do the same things with the thoughts that aren't' from him.

"You never do the right thing"--sorry you've got the wrong addressee--RETURN TO SENDER!!!

"You're a horrible wife/mother/friend/human being"--oh you must have made a mistake, that woman doesn't live here anymore she died with Christ--RETURN TO SENDER!!!

"You are stupid"--wrong name, the only person who lives here is called a child of God--RETURN TO SENDER!!!

"Just quit now, you will never get it"--I can't sign for that one either because I endure to the end--RETURN TO SENDER!!!

So next time that thought pulls up to your doorstep and tries to get into your mind...get out your permanent marker and use the Word in red...Jesus said, "Get thee behind me Satan." And don't feel bad about returning that thought back to its original sender!

Things That Make Me Go Hmmmmm

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A special thanks to Misty who took me up on the offer to receive a personalized blog topic of said choice...

Now, on with the list of things that make ME go hmmmmmmmm:

~~"private" cell phone conversations while in line at the grocery store, working out at the gym, and in the stacks of books at the library

~~people who slam on their brakes after they pass a stopped police car

~~switching lines several times in the grocery store in attempt to be in the fastest line, only to get out of the parking lot to sit in traffic

~~people who let their children, who can't even speak yet, answer the telephone

~~parents who take little-league t-ball seriously

~~the sound I make when talking to someone on the phone while secretly blogging "hmmmmm, that's interesting"

~~the fact that my husband can purchase tickets to the cubs game online, get there on time, and enjoy the game, but can't seem to make and show-up at his own dental appointments

~~if you sneeze to hard you really can fracture your rib

~~there are people in churches across America moving away from God, while there are people sitting in a bar right now moving towards God

~~not getting what I want, not wanting what I get, getting what I don't want, and wanting what I don't get

~~spongebob squarepants

~~do we really need another star wars/lord of the rings prequill, sequel, mekwill type thingy

~~toys for newborn babies

~~Yo, MTV cribs...a bunch of thug rappers who got lucky, are making millions of dollars, are wasting it away on frivolity, and are complete idiots and don't have any respect for the things they have...to provoke our youth to want to be just like them

~~I've never seen a #1 pencil, and I've looked

~~of course, my high school theme song by C&C Music Factory

~~and finally, this picture, which I starred at for several minutes trying to figure out and going "hmmmmmm" "hmmm hmmm hmm hmm hmmm"

There you have it Misty. I hope I haven't let you down and you laughed a good amount of your fanny off...or at least pretend like you like it, so I can continue to be the glorious writer of blogs that I am. OK...who is gonna be next????

Oh Yes, There Are Things

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List of things that are more boring than JeffH at ThinkSink:

• listening to grandma tell the story again of how she walked to school two-miles each way in snow up to her knees with bare feet because they couldn't afford shoes
• The way my son feels about playing with one of the thousands of toys we mortgaged our home to buy for him...Mom, this is so boring!
• my blog topic today
• logging onto your homepage, which of course is Google, and not being able to think of one single solitary word to google
• googling "boring" and finding this boring site
• going to the movies, getting there early to get just the right seats, and being held captive for 45 minutes and seeing only previews you've already seen
• the cd player accidentally turned to repeat 1, instead of repeat all
• clicking the "next blog" blogger icon for over an hour and not finding one blog worth reading (well maybe one) (nope, I was wrong, other people's baby pictures are boring, especially baby pictures that aren't taken in English)
• having the same wardrobe which was in style right around the same time I had bad hair in my 1992 high school graduation picture
• Watching Elmo's World on Saturday night, while your smart single friends are living it up in the Real World
• Condi in flats
• Not being able to come with anymore things that are more boring than Jeff
• Checking Darlene's Blog everyday and thinking its still Nettie's birthday (oh wait, that's not boring, that's just stupid)
• long, obsessive posts containing lots of dialogue about one man's infatuation and narcissistic belief that a congress woman, a rock star, and a furniture maker are all in love with him

And there you have it JeffH at ThinkSink a post blogged just for you! You send the ideas I write the post.

It Is Finished

Well the paper is done and ironically I can't think of a thing to blog about...what's up with that???? It's like my blogs are only as good as when they are written at a time when I should be doing something else.

So how about this...send me an idea and I'll write you a blog about it...just for you...personalized blogging.

What do you say????

Write in the Pants

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I am attempting to teach my four-year son to read. We use the book called, Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons. If I had written the book I'm not sure I would have called it “EASY,” a better description may have been “Teach Your Child to Read in 100-sit-your-butt-in-the-chair-and-pay-attention Lessons.” Sometimes, I want to put on my old army fatigues and yell, “GET YOUR NOSE IN THE BOOK SON!” Sometimes, I want to pick up the book and throw it against the wall for a dramatic effect. Sometimes, I don’t want to feel guilty for using candy, fruit snacks, and other sweet treats as rewards for reading each and every word—no wonder the kid can’t concentrate.

And I’ve discovered something: I write papers the same way my son does his lessons.

He puts the pencil in his mouth and spins on the chair, I check my email and pick at my belly button. He says, “I don’t want to do it, just one more word and that’s it;” I say to myself, “I don’t want to do it, just one more page and that’s it.” He gets up and walks around; I get up and walk to the pantry. He looks up at the ceiling and wonders when he can play with his Rescue Heroes; I look at my armpits and wonder when was the last time I shaved? He wants to watch cartoons; I want to write in my blog. He calls his sister to come over; I answer the phone when a friend calls. He is easily distracted if someone else walks in the room; I am easily distracted when someone else walks in the room.

Yes, I am going…right now…to finish…my paper…page 8 here I come…can anyone come over in Army fatigues, I need a kick???

Restaurant Stop

Have you ever noticed how leaving a restaurant and leaving a stop sign bring about the same strange momentary lapse and indecisiveness?

Even though where I live four ways stops are as common as the squashed bug guts smeared on the windshield on the first day of spring, no one EVER follows the appropriate rules of the road. We, as citizens and drivers in the United States of America, understand “red light--green light”, turning lanes with “turn left on arrow only,” and most certainly the looming DO NOT ENTER warnings; however, when it comes to four-way stop signs all the things learned in driver’s education are spit out the window with your stale gum.

“A four-way stop sign means that there are four stop signs at this intersection. Traffic from all four directions must stop. The first vehicle to reach the intersection should move forward first. If two vehicles reach the intersection at the same time, the driver on the left yields to the driver on the right” (Rules of the Road).

You pull up to the four-way stop. All cars have stopped at about the same nano-second as you did. Unless there is an “aggressive” driver who goes first no matter which order she arrived at the stop sign in (usually me), the following dilemma ensues:

You hesitate, take your foot off the brake, at the same time the other drivers consecutively lift their foot off their brakes. So, no one wanting to make the first move, you all sit in what seems like the most uncomfortable three schizophrenic-seconds of your life, thinking “should I go, should I not go, should I go…” until the guy across from you waves you on and you begin slowly, cautiously proceeding into the intersection (unless you’re my husband, in which case, you wave on another driver, when he doesn’t go quick enough, you then go yourself instead, but call him the “idiot” after he begins to go after you are already half-way through the intersection and he almost hits you). When you make it through the intersection and breathe a sigh of relief, you carry and forget you wanted prescription for panic attacks…until you pull up to the next four-way stop.


The same thing happens at a restaurant when dining out with girlfriends. You’ve finished your meal, the waitress has cleared away the dishes and cashed out the check, the chit chat has relinquished to less important meanderings to fill up the silence, and someone (usually me) inconspicuously glances at their watch. You’re not sure if your friend intends on finishing the ½ cup of cold coffee, you’re not sure if you need to wait a few more minutes because the friend who really needed encouragement just isn’t able to ask for it yet, and you’re not convinced you really want to go back home to the chaos and kids. You all think the same thing “should I get up, should I remain seated, should I get up…”

Until one person boldly says (usually me), “Are we ready?” Everyone nods, starts putting on their coats, and grappling through their purses for their keys.

Seen It or Scenic?

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Driving home from baseball practice last night, with the windows wide open in the car and the wind whipping in our hair, I quickly made a turn left through neighborhoods instead of hopping on the expressway. I told the kids, "We're gonna take the scenic route home." Clearly not understanding this new vocabulary word, my four-year-old piped up from the back, "What are we gonna see Mom?" And I smiled, thought for a moment, and told him to look for new things and then describe to me what he saw. I passed him my cell phone, "Call me up, pretend we're on the phone and you have to describe all the beautiful things you see because I can't be with you."

"Hi Mom, this is TJ. I see a tree. It is green. And look I see a blue car."

"What else do you see honey?"

"Ohhhh" he pointed extending his finger out the open window, clearly forgetting that he's supposed to be "pretending" to be talking into the phone, "There's a man sitting on the steps. He's smiling and laughing. " "And look," he said, "The trees have really pretty pink flowers...Mom, do you see it....I mean you should see it...they're amazing"

With this, my daughter started to understand our game and started pointing out the window and "ohhhhing and ahhhhing" too. We saw:

• a plastic bottle on the side of the road and wondered who dropped it there
• a small yellow glove soaked and dried though seasons of wet and dry
• a sign on the post, "Mom what does E-A-R-N-B-I-G-M-O-N-E-Y spell?"
• an older gentleman riding solo on a bicycle built for two
• a large sculptured cow
• The Creamery "Mom, can we get ice cream?"
• a wet dog in the back of a black pick-up truck

Later on that evening, after we bathed, brushed and booked--my son was tucked in ready for bed. As he bowed his head, his prayers began, "Father God, thank you for the blessing and for the fun day and for our friends, and Lord for the scenic things we didn't see before. Amen."

How many times had I driven down that road and never noticed the yellow glove that was obviously there for a very long time. It is the same way with the Lord. How many times have I read my bible and thought, "Yes, I know that scripture...I've seen that before." But if I had taken the scenic route through my Bible, the Lord just might show me something he clearly wants me to see, instead of hearing me tell Him, "Yes Lord, I know, I've seen it already."

Will you take the scenic route today or will you be blinded because you've already seen it all?

Da' New Snizzle Gizoogle Style tha Word

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Gizoogle translation of Gensis: In tha perpetratin' God created tha heaven n tha earth. And tha earth was witout form, n void; n darkness was upon tha face of tha deep ya feelin' me?. And tha Spirit of God moved upon tha face of tha wata. And God said, "Let there be light . Keep the party crackin while I'm steady rappin'" n there was light. And God saw tha light, thiznat it was good: n God divided tha light friznom tha darkness cuz I put gangsta rap on tha map. And God called tha light Day, n tha darkness he called "N-to-tha-izzight". And tha pimpin' n tha morn'n were tha F-to-tha-izzirst day gangsta style. Try it yourself for free...just type in the URL below (for my conservative bloggers...gizoogle at your own risk...may not be PG)

Mom's Confession List for Her Children in 30 Years

• Sometimes I bribed you with candy to go to sleep--after you brushed your teeth.
• I often told you your brother was going to sleep too, but he was secretly watching a movie in his room, having snacks and fun while you were made to suffer in your bed--asleep.
• More than once I let you pretend you were really making your bed, but then I secretly made it "the right way" when you went downstairs.
• I watched well-behaved children in public and wished they were mine.
• I laughed out loud before I told you it wasn't nice to call your sister a "booty-pee-pee-penis-head."
• I let you fall off the kitchen stool hoping it would teach you a lesson. It didn't!
• We took your brother on vacation and left you at home---we burned the pictures so there wouldn't be any evidence.
• I bit you back to teach you the lesson--"No Biting!"
• When you were able to get your own breakfast, I didn't see it as losing my little boy, but rather gaining a maid...now you could make your sister breakfast too.
• I sneaked and closed the blinds in your room so you wouldn't see your friends outside and want to play because I didn't want the neighbors to see me in my pj's.
• I let you ride in the front seat without a seat belt.
• I let you run around the house buck naked and wasn't embarrassed when you took off your clothes in public.
• I got out the video camera when you were throwing a temper tantrum.
• I secretly wished you would be the star of your T-Ball team. I prayed that at age 5 you would be "noticed" by a talent scout and signed over to the "big leagues" by age 7.
• I let you sleep in our bed, right in-between Mommy and Daddy, only when it was "convenient" for Mommy.
• I told you peas were really "green balls of power for superheros" and carrots were "orange weapons of magic force-fields."
• I thought about giving you up for adoption, more than once.
• When you didn't listen in public, I indiscreetly pinched your bottom--right between thigh and buttock, in the good spot--and when you screamed out in pain, I looked around innocently and held you close in loving arms while whispering in your ear "You better NEVER do that again, do you understand me???" with a grin on my face.
• I left you at home alone for over 5 minutes because you were taking nap and your brother's preschool was just down the street.
• I slept you on your stomach when you were 4 weeks old.
• I let you stay in the tub until your body turned blue and your lips moved involuntarily because the mess could be contained to a 3x6 area.
• I made you "perform" for the "audience" of friends and family because I was so proud of myself.

Simple Answers

On the way to church tonight I had the pleasure of driving my son TJ and our friend's daughter, Skylar, (both 5 years old) to church. The conversation went something like this:

"So what do you want to talk about Skylar? Like how was your day and stuff like that?"

"It was fine. How was your day?"

"Good. What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. What do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know. What do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know. What do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know. What do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know. What do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know. What do you want to talk about?"

After about five minutes of this, TJ finally says,

"I know, let's talk about The Incredibles."

"Wait, TJ, I know, let's talk about Jesus."

"No, I don't want to talk about Jesus, let's talk about The Incredibles."

"No thanks, I want to talk about Jesus."

"Well, you can be Violet and I can be Dash...Ok? Ready, Go?"

"No." In a very quiet, subtle quiet voice, "Can't we just talk about Jesus?" Then in a sweet baby voice "Pllllllease."

"Ok, but then after we're done, then can we talk about The Incredibles?"

"Yes. OK, Now TJ, do you know where heaven is?"

"Yes, it is in the clouds, in the sky, right Mom?"

Me, thinking about the best way to answer this, when I don't really have a specific concrete answer...my pause is much too long for Skylar...she continues...

"TJ, heaven is way up high, high in the sky. And you must be born again to go to heaven."

"I know, so when I'm born, like a baby, I go to heaven."

"TJ did you ask Jesus in your heart?"

"Yes"

"TJ do you know when we get to heaven we will be with Jesus?"

"Mom, is Jesus in heaven?"

"Yes honey."

"Oh, I thought Jesus was in my heart?"

"Well...when..."

"TJ, When you get to heaven and get to be with Jesus, guess what?"

"What?"

"You NEVER have to go to sleep, you can stay up all the time."

"Cool."

"And guess what else?"

"What?"

"You never have to even take one single nap...not ever...NEVER!"

"That is AMAZING."

"Yep and you get all new clothes too."

"Cool. I wonder what kind of clothes God wears...Mom, what kind of clothes does God wear?"

"Well...ummmmm...."

"And TJ do you know what else?"

"What?"

"When we get to heaven we will get a whole new body."

"Do I get to keep my bones?"

"No TJ. You don't have any bones in heaven."

"Mom do I get to have bones in heaven?"

"Well..."

"TJ and you know what else?"

"Skylar?"

"And in heaven..."

"Wait, Skylar?"

"And Jesus will..."

"Skylar?"

"Yes, TJ"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes"

"Can we talk about The Incredibles now?"

Time Takers

I am really trying to get away from the thinking, "I would do __________ (fill in the blank), if I only had a bit more time." This kind of thinking is dangerous because if truly followed, nothing would ever get accomplished.

For instance, if I have 10 minutes to spare and I haven't exercised yet today, I usually think, "I only have 10 minutes, that's not enough time to get in a real workout." So instead, I eat a bag of potato chips. Or the days I wake up late and think, "I only have 10 minutes, that's right about when I'll be getting into my prayer time, I might as well forget it." So instead, I turn on the T.V.

I'm reminded of Elizabeth Cady Staton, one of the most prominent proponents of women's legal and social equality in the 1850's. What if she decided because she had 7 children (unlike Susan B. Anthony who never married or had children) she just didn't have the time to study, research, write, and influence a nation. Where would I be today?

I think about Rosa Parks. What if she got on that bus, sat down in the back, because today she was already late for work, and she didn't really have the time to cause any trouble--much less start a revolution. Where would I be today?

I think about God. What if after giving Adam and Eve specific instructions which they willingly disobeyed, decided he didn't have the time to come up with a new plan, after all, he just finished creating the whole world and that took some planning. Where would I be today?

And of course, I think about Jesus. What if while walking through the crowd, felt the woman pull at his robe and instead of taking the time to stop and heal her, he pretended he didn't feel anything. Nobody else noticed she had pulled his robe. The disciples immediately thought he was crazy telling him hundreds of people had just touched him, couldn't he see the crowd. You can almost hear the urgency in their voices, their desire to keep on moving, and get to the other side. What if Jesus kept walking because he thought, "I would stop to heal her Father, but I have a plan to follow, I have things to do here, don't you know I need to save the world. I don't have time for this one woman." Where would I be today?

I'm glad I wrote this blog, but I'm also glad I took the time to tickle my two-year old when she walked up to the keyboard with a smile.

What will you take time to do--the time for something--that you don't really have enough time for today?

Mother's Day Comes Early

After Tim's blessed announcement he was taking the kids to the zoo this morning, I, without hesitating: corralled the children upstairs to get them dressed; answered dozens of seemingly unending questions (Why do I have to wear a sweatshirt? What time does the zoo open? Do they have a octopus at the zoo? When are we leaving? Can I go play with Nathan? Why aren't you going to the zoo, Mommy? Can I watch a movie? Where is my other shoe? Moooooooom, Kayla won't give me my shoe!); packed one diaper bag with one pull-up, one pair of princess underwear, baby wipes in a ziploc sandwich size baggie, an extra hair clip, ponytail holders, one dirty I Love My Aunt bib--which found its permanent home when I babysat my niece, a large plastic ziploc baggie just in case, two extra outfits and one pair of socks; stuffed a cooler full of peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches (some cut in triangles, some cut in squares, some cut into 16 pieces, and some not cut--all with the crust on--I drew the line), individualized baggies of pretzels, 2 lucky charm fruit snacks (boy), two princess fruit snacks (girl), some random Nilla wafers found in the pantry--opened for god-knows how long and probably soft and mushy; fixed Kayla's hair (because you know I don't know how to do it), jammed the kids into their car seats because hey, look, Mommy will chase me if I run away; smeared sunscreen onto their too-small noses; placed too-big fishermen caps on their heads; waved and yelled "Have a fun time" to their smiling faces as the car gave way to a silent house.

I can see it in the headline of tomorrow's paper:

"Mother's Day Comes Early: Zoo Adventure Gone Awry."

Yesterday, faithful husband and committed father blessed his wife by taking the children on an adventure of sorts. Stacey Gonzales, 30, wife and graduate student was pleasantly surprised when her husband woke up and unselfishly announced the ensuing trip to the zoo. He knew this would absolutely give her the time and space she needed to finally finish writing her research paper or updating her blog. After returning from a perfect spring day at the zoo, he was shocked to find her body limp on the couch. Fortunately, just as young TJ rushed to call 911 (our thanks to Skylar), Stacey turned over just in time to answer the question, "So, what's for dinner?"

Fighting Writin

Have you ever been so unmotivated, the only thing you are motivated to do is be completely unmotivated? That's where I am at right now.

I have two enormous research papers due in two weeks and one large annotated bibliography--that's where I have to write not only the reference citation, but also a paragraph describing what the book or article is about. The only problem with the bibliography is that, well, umm can't quite write a good paragraph if I haven't read the material. And the only problems with the papers are, ummm, can't quite write a research paper if you haven't done the research.

So instead of writing my papers, I'll write in my blog. It's so much less pressure and so much more fun.

Why do I do this to myself??? I try to be really good and make a schedule, give myself ample time weeks before the papers are due, but alas I just can't seem to get into the groove. Must I always wait until the fourth quarter, 5 seconds left in the game, and I need a three-pointer to win?

It's kinda like the way the Illinois has played in the NCAA this year. I can see a clear parallel between the fighting' Illini and my life fighting to be a graduate student. It was fun in the beginning, no pressure, just go out there and shoot around until I make a basket. Well, someone was shooting around all right and the basket appeared to be coming from my stomach. Right after I received my acceptance letter to grad school, I found out I was pregnant with my second child. I decided it's now or never, so as a prego mamma I waddled to class, squeezed in the tiny auditorium seat, and tried to limit my bathroom runs to three times per class.

With baby on board, and husband on the couch, I was ready for the coming semesters. In retrospect, those early classes were easy wins. Winning the hearts and minds of my teachers and fellow students alike, I found myself on a straight "A" winning streak. While sitting in class they would spontaneously break out into the wave, the crowd had my back. I could hear them cheering "Go Stacey, Go Stacey, Go Stacey, GO!!!!"

Unplanned and unprepared for the making of stardom, I am starting to hope for a personal foul and a chance to take an easy two at the free-throw line. I yell out in proverbial rhetoric "Can someone throw me a freakin' bone here?"

I am feeling the pressure to keep riding the waves of my winning streak and prove to the world my worth. It certainty isn't easy, and even when the final two weeks or two minutes are on the clock, I somehow find a way to drive it to the hole for a slam-dunk.

I'm hoping and praying that my final outcome won't be as disheartening as Illinois' loss on Monday night. And if it is...well, I can always let my husband come back upstairs to the bedroom...and even in that case, there will still be only five seconds on the clock.

You Choose This Day

Last night, while laying in bed with my husband, I started thinking about the recent Terri Schavro debate. I basically told my husband, if you really think YOU can believe God for a miracle for me, great go ahead and try, but if after a couple of months, there isn't a manifestation...let me go home to be with the Lord. I don't want to be trapped in my own body, a slave to it's inability to do what I tell it to do. Or even not being able to think at all. What a sad life that would be for me.

OK, OK, before you think I'm not a "real" Christian, let me explain myself...I am saying, if I were in that predicament, I would feel trapped (if I could even feel). I am not the kind of person who can ever sit still. I often ponder that verse "Be still and know that I am God." I know He is God, it is the "be still" part that I am continually working on.

I don't think God meant for us to live as unproductive individuals. Jesus said, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel." Where can I go...if I literally cannot "go"? I don't think God meant for us to live with a unfruitful mind. He has given me "power, love, and a sound mind." He said he would give me peace beyond all understanding. I can say I definitely would not be feeling the peace if I were to lie in a bed for 15 years while the world around me continued to move and I could not partake in the call of God on my life.

You know what, I believe in miracles. I can't say I understand miracles. If God were trying to make a statement about life and the power of prayer, wouldn't Terri's life been a really great place to gain some major accolades? When Jesus performed miracles, they were always the most difficult and highly recognizable . Everyone knew who the madman at Gadera was, it was a high profile case, just like Terri.

I prayed for Terri to get a miracle in her body, but it didn't happen. I know lots and lots of people were praying for her...so I guess prayer doesn't cause miracles to happen. I think it has a lot more to do with the faith of the person who needs the miracle, than the faith of the one praying. I can't answer why some people get them and some people don't, but I do know that God is the author of life, but after life He's done His job. It is up to us because he has given us a choice. We have a choice to make in the situation, God said, "I set before you life and death, choose you this day whom you will serve." How can a person make that choice, it their brain won't allow them the ability to choose. If Terri truly had the ability to use her faith to live, wouldn't it have become manifest when they took out the feeding tube? I would like to think so.

Some might argue that Terri's call was to bring about a greater awareness of the value of life and in doing that she did fulfill the call of God on her life. I think it's ironic that we think we are fighting a battle for a "right to live" or a "right to die." It is not a right to live or die...it is a choice. It is making the choice while we are able to and saying "I will live for God." Wheter or not I gain national media attention as a result of my choice, yet I can stand up and say, "I will serve the Lord." And in the instance when you can no longer make that choice, I think you've made the choice.

Daycare Dilemma

I have been searching for a solution to the working mom syndrome, that is, finding a quality daycare provider that will do and be everything I can't, or even for that matter, won't be, even when I am home with my children. These are some of the things I have found to be true so far on this journey:

• if while interviewing a home daycare provider she has the "time" to spend an hour on the phone with you explaining her child "care" techniques, she is talking more about them than actually executing them
• here are some key phrases you can use when firing a nanny: "It's nothing personal but do you think maybe you could smile once in a while." "Watching the kids play is different than playing with the kids." "When I say "Just jump right in" I mean like, immediately, not next week."
• We have a "flexible" schedule translates to "the kids sit in front of the television all day"
• "You can pay me whenever is convenient for you" really means "I want my money now"
• When a friend offers to "help you out" if you take advantage of that offer, you will undoubtedly feel like you are taking advantage of her.
• If she sounds scary on the phone, she probably is.
• Paying money to someone you don't know to watch your kids is better than giving money to someone you do know and feeling cheap.
• Some nannies can live in your home, see your weaknesses, behold you in all your glory and still not feel very much a part of your life.
• Finding someone to do better what you ultimately should be doing is next to impossible.

It Takes A Few Days

Here, where I live, yesterday was daylight savings time. I think I only had to "spring forward" two clocks and one of three watches because the others actually never "fell back" last October. Every year I forget daylight savings time, twice a year we are either super-late or extremely early for church, and every year it takes a few days to stop these conversations with myself :

Day One--Forgot to change the clock

It's 2am...Oh my God what am I doing up so late and why am I not tired...oh right, forgot to change the clock, well, technically it's only 1am, so I'm ok. I guess I can go to bed now.


Day Two--Don't feel like changing the clock

Rolling over in bed, first eyes glancing at the red digits, Well the clock says 8:30, but it is really actually 9:30, I guess I should get up.

Day Three--Remembered to change the clock

Rolling over the next morning, Well the clock says 8:30, but I know it's really only 7:30, I guess I can sleep another hour.

Day Four--What clock???

Daylight savings time say what???

Just for Drew

Not only did I update my blog, but I changed the colors too...just for you!!!!!

Night Train

There’s something uniquely comforting and wholly satisfying when I lie in bed at night and feel the train crying out into the silence. The blazing warning signal emitted into the night air preempts the reassurance that quickly comes with each and every thud-da, thud-da, thud-da. As its steel wheels rage upon the worn metal tracks, it speaks to me softly. The world lies dormant behind closed eyelids, but I am the sound of accomplishment, the sound of progress, the sound of security. And I tell myself, only I hear it, because—only I am listening.