Tag Archives: marriage

Give the Lettuce to the Fat Girl

  By Rebecca | October 29, 2013 - 7:19 am |
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Date Night

Date Night

Sitting in a  romantically lit cafe during a  long-awaited evening out with my husband, it happened.  We talked easily,  sipped our wine and waited for our dinner.  My handsome, effortlessly thin husband ordered Mediterranean lettuce wraps.  I ordered a cheeseburger. The waiter (someone different than the one who took our order)  swooped over and.. you guessed it… set the lettuce wraps down in front of me and gave my cheeseburger to Thinny McThin.

I’m not that sensitive about my weight.  Really, I’m not.  I live somewhere between wanting to drop about 30 pounds and trying to learn to be happy and at peace at whatever weight I am, since I know being thin isn’t the key to happiness.  Yeah, I’d like to be a couple sizes smaller, but I also know that there are pretty features about me.  My husband loves me, and I know that constant obsessing about my weight doesn’t make me sexy to him.  You can’t be married to a chef and be shy about enjoying food.  They aren’t really into that.   Plus, there’s sugar.  And I ain’t talkin’ about the kind you give your Granny on the cheek.  I can’t give up hope that there’s a way to be healthy without totally sacrificing bread, cookies, and cake.

At the end of a long, emotional week, the cheeseburger thing just rubbed me wrong.  I know that magazine covers are airbrushed, that stretch marks can’t be erased, and that a woman’s weight and shape don’t define her value.  I really wish the rest of society knew it too.  There are still enough smart remarks, fat jokes, and judgemental looks out there to make a girl feel like a less-than because of her weight… especially in a weak moment.  I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at the waiter’s assumption that the fat girl needed the lettuce wraps.  Couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed at his quizzical expression as my husband corrected him and handed the cheeseburger over to me.  Couldn’t help wondering if the guy walked away shaking his head at why a handsome, thin guy would be with a Mrs. Sprat like me.  Depressing, huh? I know.  AND a little crazy.  AND I totally projected my feelings onto the poor, unsuspecting, stereotyping waiter.  It was enough to ruin a perfectly good first-date-night-in-a-long-time with grumpy sighs and over-obsessing defensiveness.

When I was a little girl, my mom and dad used to sing a song about how God made me special.  They believed that, and still do.  I do, too.  Most of the time.

The cheeseburger was great, by the way.  I ate about half and took the rest home, a normal part of my attempt to practice balance and moderation every day.  My head’s still held high, and I know I’m loved.  My shape’s not perfect but it’s me, and no one else can be my husband’s wife, my kids’ mom, my parents’ daughter better than I.  There’s so much more to life than bodyweight and so much more to me than my physical appearance.

The Salad We Had TonightI’ve recovered from my temporary insanity and remembered that other people don’t get to dictate whether I enjoy my life.  I shall continue to laugh, love, and eat sugar.

Lettuce is nice.  Thanks for the gesture.  But stereotypes just don’t fit me right.  I’ll have the cheeseburger.

 

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Attacking Your Day

  By Rebecca | October 27, 2013 - 2:01 pm |
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I recently read the book,” Attack Your Day! Before it Attacks You!” The main thing I took away from the book was the idea of managing my TASKS instead of my time.  Just because someone comes along and asks something of me doesn’t necessarily mean I must stop right that moment and complete the interrupting task.  It’s my responsibility to prioritize my tasks.

SOOOooooo much easier said than done.  My knee-jerk reaction was “Well, you’ve never spent a day at my desk!  I’m the first face anyone sees when they pass our office, and there are 63 people between the ages of 80 and 100 who all think I’m at their personal beck and call, not to mention all of their responsible parties who need questions answered or need to tell me about a doctor’s appointment.  Before and after and during work, I mother three children.  Three children with no less than 5 years between their ages, all needing different things simultaneously.  Mommy! Mom! Mama!  Hey Mom!  I have a husband and a boss (not the same person) and somehow I’d LIKE to think I try to write stuff and help people.  NO way I can just call the shots on what I want to do.”  It seems that most of my life is basically one interruption after another, putting out one fire after another.  Even while typing this, I’m typing around a pair of three-year-old hands as they stick stickers on my laptop.

So basically, my first thought was “Nice idea.  Totally impossible for me.”  Then I remembered… (start playing Battle Hymn of the Republic background music) I remembered that it’s still the United States of America, the land of the free.  I’m still of legal adult-decision-making age.  This means I AM in charge of what I do.  I make the choice to allow myself to be interrupted, to allow myself to forget the tasks I’ve decided are most important and do the stuff other people present to me as “emergencies.”
I admit, I wonder if deflecting all of the interruptions that come my way would take more time than just doing the task right then and getting it overwith.  A legitimate concern, except if I keep on simply stopping and doing every single interruption, I’ll keep on being unable to get past all the interruptions and accomplish the things I’ve deemed important.

This idea applies to all of life.  Churches, jobs, friends, social organizations, and more are all lining up for a piece of us.  Saying “yes” to them all creates a constant stream of interruptions and interruptions to the interruptions.  (Dizzy yet?  Me too.)

I’ve decided it’s important to homeschool my kids.  I’ve also decided since we still need to feed them, that I can’t quit my job.  Oh yes, and I also want to make a healthy happy marriage, do life with my friends, and make a difference in the world.  This means I HAVE to be a master at managing my tasks.  This life isn’t going to just “happen to me.”  I have to keep my priorities in the forefront of my mind and I have to make these things happen.  I have to be on the attack.

So what do I do?  Here are some ideas:

1)  I need to know what is important to me today.  There’s no way I can order my tasks if I don’t know what I want and need to be doing.  This means I’ve gotta spend a few minutes planning, thinking, and prioritizing.  This could be a simple “to do list” or a calendar program or whatever.  Anything that helps identify what exactly I plan to do and need to do puts me in a better position to be in control of my tasks.

2)  Learn to say NO already!!  Sheesh!!  There are some things absolutely required of me because of my job or position in the family, some things to which I can’t simply say “no.” BUT there are a LOT of things not absolutely required.  A lot more than I want to admit.  For me, saying “no” is uncomfortable, it’s weird, it’s unfriendly… I hate doing it.  But, I can’t say yes to the important things if I can’t say no to the unimportant. 

3) Strategize.  I don’t often think about having a strategy.  I prefer to dance around and float through life while everything seems to fall into place.  Nice idea but not effective goal achieving material.  I need to use strategy.  I don’t think great marriages and good parenting just happen.  There’s a strategy there, or at least a set of core beliefs that are applied by the partners or parents.  I wonder what the simple step of identifying what I want and actually creating a strategy to achieve what I want, would do?  This may seem silly to a business-minded organizer, but to a people-pleasing social butterfly it’s groundbreaking. There’s also a level of commitment in making a plan.  It’s one thing to say I want to homeschool my children.  It’s another entirely to make a strategy figuring out how to do it.  Strategy in place, my excuses are few, aren’ t they?

My life is a juggling act.  THIS IS NOT A COMPLAINT.  I’m overly, wonderfully, incredibly, undeservedly blessed with more than my share of loveliness.  Attacking my day means I get to dive in with gusto and enjoy fully the huge pile of good things in my life.  Handsome husband, wonderful children, great job, dreams of good things to strive toward.  All mine to attack at will.

Ready.  Set.  GO!!

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Gettin’ Schooled

  By Rebecca | October 7, 2013 - 7:30 am |
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Our homeschooling adventure continues! One of the main things I want to do when I think of teaching my kids myself is stuff their heads with as much scripture as possible. My own little brain was stuffed full of God’s words when I was a little girl and I find He uses that library in my brain to talk to me. I want my kids to have a nice-sized God-vocabulary, so a big part of our homeschooling is scripture memory.

So far this schoolyear we’ve memorized:

Romans 3:23-24 (As a kid I learned 3:23 alone, but verse 24 actually finishes the sentence. )
Acts 16:21
Ephesians 6:1
Proverbs 20:11
Psalm 34:14
Isaiah 63:1-3
1 John 4:8
Psalm 23 entire chapter

Since I’ve also been working on cursive handwriting with Levi, the scripture verses provide a good opportunity to practice handwriting and work on memorization at the same time. We do one verse each week, with a “test” on Friday. On Monday, we print out the verse and each day, Caleb helps by holding the paper for us to read aloud together. He gets a kick out of saying “GO!” and we read the verse again. We also write the verse several times to “layer the learning” by using our hand to write, seeing with eyes, and speaking the verse aloud.

A couple of weeks ago, I took a Friday morning and “tested” on all the verses we’d learned up until that time, having the kids write them out as I called out the reference or the first couple of words.

Scripture Memory Wall

Scripture Memory Wall

I’m so excited for my kids to learn the Bible, and as He always does, God is using His words to change us. For example, several weeks ago, when we were memorizing Psalm 34:14 “Depart from evil and do good. Seek peace and pursue it,” Dwayne and I had a really rough evening. It was one of those needless marital disagreements where both people say and do things they don’t mean and nobody wins. It wasn’t the kind of thing we could hide from the kids, even though they were in bed when it happened. We screwed up and our kids knew it. The next morning, I tearfully read over Psalm 34:14 and had to explain to my three babies how Dad and I were wrong to not do what the verse asked. We had not departed from evil and sought peace. We had done the opposite. I also shared with them how we planned to work on our disagreement, and ask God to help us too. Talk about humble pie. Talk about relevant scripture.

As He always does, God turned my stupid mistake into something good for me and my children. I had a chance to talk honestly with my kids, not hiding from them the fact that adults make mistakes. I had a chance to teach them that being an adult isn’t about not messing up, but it’s about owning your mistakes and doing what it takes to learn how to do better.

 

Vacuum Science Experiment

Vacuum Science Experiment

So far, we’ve also started a creation science unit, made “rain,” created a vacuum, and we are pairing that with a World History study, starting off at the very beginning, of course. I’ve been working with Mackenzie on poetry, and with Levi on reading comprehension. For math, I have a geometry student and one working on multiplication with several digits. For some extra curricular work, Mackenzie is taking a cake decorating class and Levi is participating in the children’s choir at NOBTS. As a family, we’ve also done a menu-planning and grocery budgeting project.

I’m finding my days are intense, with nonstop activity from 6am to 8 or 9pm by the time I complete the entire day from homeschool to work to NOCCA pick-up to putting everyone to bed. BUT I’m working on some different techniques to manage my tasks and time. I’m so thrilled with my kids’ progress and so surprised at how much MOM is learning. 🙂 Guess they aren’t the only ones gettin’ schooled!

 

 

 

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Control Freak

  By Rebecca | June 2, 2013 - 4:35 pm |
1 Comment

Hello, my name is Rebecca and…

I’m a control freak.

Yep.  Don’t judge.  You probably are too.

Oooo ya’ll, I love me some control.  I don’t even mind being at fault for a problem… just so I get to call the shots.  Here’s the thing with that:  You can’t really control things like hurricanes, divorces, failing health, car accidents… oh yeah and OTHER PEOPLE.  You can’t control other people.  This includes, but is not limited to, husbands and children.

Summer’s here, you know.  My annual pit of despair opens its mouth yet again as I anticipate sending my big kids to Florida for a few weeks.  Without me.  Outside my control.  Ugh.

Something’s different this year.  This year I’ve decided to avoid the P.O.D (pit of despair).  Not goin’ in.

God and I have had a few talks over the last few weeks.  Here’s something that caught my eye…

JOB 37

14 “Listen to this, Job;
stop and consider God’s wonders.
15 Do you know how God controls the clouds
and makes his lightning flash?
16 Do you know how the clouds hang poised,
those wonders of him who has perfect knowledge?
17 You who swelter in your clothes
when the land lies hushed under the south wind,
18 can you join him in spreading out the skies,
hard as a mirror of cast bronze?

19 “Tell us what we should say to him;
we cannot draw up our case because of our darkness.
20 Should he be told that I want to speak?
Would anyone ask to be swallowed up?
21 Now no one can look at the sun,
bright as it is in the skies
after the wind has swept them clean.
22 Out of the north he comes in golden splendor;
God comes in awesome majesty.
23 The Almighty is beyond our reach and exalted in power;
in his justice and great righteousness, he does not oppress.
24 Therefore, people revere him,
for does he not have regard for all the wise in heart?[b]”

You know what?  I’m not in control of what goes on with my babies when they are away.

Know what else?  God IS.

Truth be told, I waste a lot of time and emotional energy trying to control the uncontrollable.  Trying to make sure nothing bad happens.  Trying to shield and protect and oversee.  Trying to improve and revamp and adjust.

Yeah, God totally has it.

I think somewhere along the way I decided that my broken heart was evidence that God wasn’t quite able to handle my life.  So of course it would be better if I took over.  Right.

As evidenced by four miserable, depressing, sickening summers… that didn’t work.

This year, I’m leaving the control in God’s hands.  That’s actually a joke because it’s always been there.  Let me try again.  This year I’m not going to waste my time obsessing and worrying about what God controls.  He will be faithful to my children just like He has been to me.  I’m just going to love my kids, be grateful for my family and enjoy my life.

Hmmmm…..

Now what kind of freak will I be?

 

 

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Us

  By Rebecca | April 30, 2013 - 12:40 am |
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Just had our fourth wedding anniversary. We had a lil’ weekend getaway.

20130429-232914.jpg

There was this.

20130429-232932.jpg And this.

Oh… and this (yes, I did!)20130429-233014.jpg

 

Our getaway involved several hours alone to just reconnect. We’ve had lots of “you and me” but building an “us” has been a bit more challenging. Sometimes it seems our four years have flown by.  Sometimes it seems an eternity since we’ve struggled through so many things.

We’re still working on it, but it was really good to be reminded that there is more to us than pee-peeing on the potty, driver’s ed, 4th grade homework, and eating your vegetables.  We’re more than what we fight about, more than our perpetually empty checking account and perpetually packed to-do lists.

To keep it real, ya’ll, we’ve sometimes acted as if neither of us learned a darn thing from our first failures.  We’ve approached this marriage like two dummies expecting to “stick in a thumb and pull out a plum” as my daddy would say.  Oh, we knew second marriages are difficult, but OURS would be different, right?  Right.  Keep on dreamin’, honey.

Four years and about four MILLION “discussions” later, we are learning how to stop collecting retribution for past hurts from each other, though we had nothing to do with each others’ pasts.  We are learning (who, me?) how to leave well-enough alone, how to give each other some space for grace.  We’ve finally begun to quit trying to force our individual ways of doing things on one another and instead we’re starting to  figure out our COLLECTIVE way of doing things.  I think we’re about to get on the same team here, people!

We ain’t perfect, yall.  But things are lookin’ bright.

And Honey, if you read this sometime… I had the best weekend with you.  Happy Anniversary!

 

20130429-233041.jpg

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Bow-chicka-wow-wow

  By Rebecca | February 21, 2013 - 1:35 pm |
2 Comments

Look at this.  Just look!  Is he YUMMY or what??? 

Check out the hands.  Try not to swoon. 🙂 

 

Yeah, he’s got his flaws, honey.  He’s also got a heart of gold, would move heaven and earth for me, and is right beside me crying and yelling and fighting and working on our cumulative baggage reduction procedure in order to make this marriage as healthy as it can be.  Second marriages ain’t easy dawlin’, and I’m pretty happy this man has chosen to make one work with me.  Anyway… who can resist a man in uniform??

 

 What can I say, baby?  I LOVE dat man!  (Photography by Michael Deris)

 

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Iced Tea and Hot Romance

  By Rebecca | December 3, 2012 - 11:36 pm |
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There’s no such thing as a perfect marriage.  Even if there were, mine would be far from a candidate for the title.  We’ve got our moments of crazy, and we both carry plenty of baggage.  So does everyone!  That’s life!

But every once in a while, the most romantic moment will come along and I’m just overwhelmed at how incredible love is.  Today, a glass of tea ushered in one of those moments…

We work together, me as director of marketing and he as executive chef, at an upscale assisted living home.  We’ve been SO busy at work lately, and today was as intense as ever.  I was working hard, deep in concentration, and focusing completely on how I can best serve a family who is looking at our home as a possible residence for their dad.  As part of the process, families often eat a meal with us, and today was such a time.  I gave our drink order to one of our care managers, Kathleen, and she headed to the kitchen.  She returned in a few moments with salads and drinks. Everyone else had water, but I had asked for iced tea.  Normally I’d have water because I like my tea sweet and we serve only unsweetened tea at work.  But I felt the little caffeine would be just what I needed, so I went for tea, figuring I’d drink it plain since I don’t do packets of sweetener.  When Kathleen put down our drinks, I was deep in conversation, focused on the issues this family is facing with their father.  In mid-conversation, I took a sip of my tea and…

Sweet.

Cold, and sweet, and wonderful.

Not the kind of sweet you get from a pink packet.

 

Washing down my throat, and over my heart, was the knowledge that my husband had just stood in the kitchen in the middle of his busy lunch service, made a simple syrup, and sent an authentic glass of sweet tea to me.

A few seconds later, he popped in with the food.  I wanted to run across the room and tackle him, kiss his face and tell him how incredible it is to be loved like that.  I couldn’t.   I had to maintain my professional composure.  But inside, I was being melted by a glass of iced tea. (I *might* have sent him a “for your eyes only” text later… you know… just to express my sentiments.)

We might not have much.  We’re working extra jobs and stretching our pennies and our time and our emotions to make this family work.  Really though, it doesn’t take much.  I don’t need diamonds, don’t need prestige, don’t need exotic vacations.  What could be hotter than a man who not only would make me a glass of tea, but  is willing to spend thirty seconds of the busiest, most intense part of his day to make sure mine is sweet?

That’s sexy.  It’s love.  It’s incredible.

Feel free to print this and pass it along to any significant other who may need to consider making a glass of tea. (Here’s a link to a great article showing you how) Or maybe you should make one for someone yourself???

 

 

 

 

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Minivan Mojo

  By Rebecca | November 11, 2012 - 5:33 pm |
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I’ve finally got my dream car.  It’s a sleek silver seven-seater. My husband is way too cool to drive it, but when I get in it I feel like the coolest, ever.  I’ve called her Sylvia.

Me N Sylvia

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of being a minivan mama.

First, there’s the fact that it’s the ideal mode of transportation for children.  The seats are just at the right level so that my toddler can get in and I can buckle his seat belt while standing up straight.  No longer do I have to lean in and over to wrestle with the buckling two-year-old while my rear end (“trailer” as my daddy would call it) is the only part of me out in the daylight.  Try this in a skirt and you’ll go directly to your local minivan dealership.  No longer do I have to try to figure a graceful way to back my behind out without hitting my head or falling, readjust the clothing, and look around hoping nobody was watching my show.  Sylvia’s got my back (side) and has preserved my dignity many-a time.  There’s a veritable playground in there, so I can open the back, toss in the toddler, and load groceries to my heart’s content knowing he’s safe and sound, out of the parking lot… and he thinks it’s the greatest since he got to climb in the back.  There is room for several gadgets at once, so the two-year-old, ten-year-old, and teenager can all travel in harmony and comfort.  Whether we’re going two blocks or a thousand miles, this does untold wonders for my sanity.  Since my minivan is practically a living room in itself, I can climb in with the kids, close and lock the doors and take my time getting everything situated and ready to go.

Second, there’s the thrill of driving the minivan… alone.  There are the compartments and pockets and cupholders, all with MY stuff tucked away just the way I want it.  I get in, shut the door, start her up, and breathe in the cavernous space behind me.  Space.  My space.  Quiet space.  Maybe this isn’t a big deal to you, but I haven’t peed by myself on a regular basis in almost 15 years.  I share a bedroom with a guy who likes everything just-so.  I’ll often come home and my bedside table will be bereft of the books I’ve been reading or the earrings I stuck on the dresser top so I could grab ’em quick will be back in their hiding place… and he’s a chef so the kitchen isn’t exactly my domain either.  But my van… (hear soft music) my van is my space.  Drop the last kid off at school and honey, you’ve got a bubble bath on wheels all to yourself for ten whole minutes!!  I’ve got napkins, snacks, a change of clothes (for a two-year-old, but still…), magazines, makeup, and a little money all right where I want and need them to be.  I’m sorry, Sylvia’s not available for loanership. But I just may invite you in by calling you on my hands-free blue tooth system.  Sylvia knows all my friends’ names and numbers and calls them on voice command.  I’m not trying to show off, I’m only sharing my shock and awe that I actually figured out how to make her do it.  Sylvia’s very discreet and won’t leak a word of our conversation.

Haven’t made a believer out of you yet?  Well, don’t discount the minivan’s romance factor.  Add a couple of pillows and the right beverages and “parking” takes on a whole new level of luxury.  (Also disproves the misconception that married people with kids no longer have fun.)  We can steam up windows with the best of ’em.  (So what if we don’t leave the driveway?)

Sylvia holds my extra brochures and business cards and keeps the pee-pee accident kit discreetly hidden.  Or she’ll proudly display the toys and dirt and roll up to the playground lookin’ like the mommy-mobile extraordinaire, with extra wet-wipes to loan to the mom with the Camry.  She’ll seat a business executive and won’t (hopefully) leave an old french fry stuck to his pants.  Or she’ll open her doors to six of my girlfriends and become the ride of our lives.  Sylvia can serve a family dinner if need be, and even has a kid-watching mirror so I can glimpse mine enjoying ice cream or cheeseburgers or whatever we’ve found to get into.

Maybe it’s silly… but ol’ Sylvia makes me feel like I’m ready for whatever my wonderful life demands of me.  I’m thinking about getting a theme song and some loudspeakers… maybe hydraulics….

Maybe not.  But it’s still ON like pecan when Sylvia and I get on the road.  Grab ya sunglasses and let’s go for a ride!!

 

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Mama’s Peace

  By Rebecca | November 5, 2012 - 10:06 pm |
2 Comments
Her fingers clicked across the keyboard as she typed a few words.  Then, just as many times, she tapped the delete key.  How to pull some kind of coherent thought from the fragmented bits that swirled incessantly in her head?

Lists.  She could make lengthy, detailed lists of all the things she needed to do.  She could bullet the bills, errands, library books, phone calls, emails, notes to teachers, and plans to arrange.  Grocery lists, menu lists, and birthday gift lists.  She could jot forever the undone tasks that haunt her mind at night, keep her from focusing at work, and steal her miniscule lunch break time.

Laments.  She could wax poetic about her stress and shortcomings.  She could write long complaints about the way things are, and paint wistful pictures of how she wishes they were.  She could give in to the longing sob that lurks in the back of her throat at every thought of her mother, father, sister or brother.  She could explain why everyone should cooperate with her plans, and expound on the misery that results when they don’t.  She could compose a heartbreaking account of betrayal and brokenness, nearly drowning in the sorrow of it all.

Laugh.  She could throw up her hands and laugh at her ineptness.  She could give in to the cheshire cat smile that would make anyone wonder what she’s up to.  She could let out the giggle that erupts instantly at the sight of her two year old boy.  She could snort with her ten year old son at words like “fart” and let herself thoroughly enjoy that his presidential candidate choice is based on that candidate’s opinion of McDonald’s.  She could roll her eyes with her soon-to-be fifteen year old daughter and enjoy the inside jokes just the two of them share.  She could send her husband a steamy, silly text message and wait with baited breath for his reaction.

Love.  She could let herself feel the painful tidal wave of love that threatens to burst her heart each time she kisses her children goodnight or good morning or goodbye.  She could plan an unforgettable birthday celebration for the husband whose love overtook her life.  She could try… just try to love that someone she just can’t stand.  She could bake something, write something, give something to try to show her adoration for those friends that see her through the best and worst.  She could mail something to her mom and dad, Fedex something to her sister, fix up the guest room for when her brother comes to stay.  She could forget the remark, overlook the mistake, let go of the offense.  She could remember a name, remember to hug, remember to look an old person in the eye.  She could let the tears fall because she knows no way to contain her affection for a God who loved her first.

Her chest heaved a sigh and she did the thing she hadn’t yet dared to consider…

She let go.   She let go of it all and let it fade with the daylight.  She loosened her grip and let the load she’s carrying settle into a pile that will still be waiting for her in the morning.  She dropped the notion of perfection and propped her feet up on the ottoman of “good enough.”  She popped the top of something cold and slipped into a tub of something warm.  She kicked back and let Jesus take the storm of wife, and mother, and professional, and writer, and sister, and daughter, and friend, and citizen, and believer, and somehow bring about….

Peace

Night moon

 

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Round Three: Some days

  By Rebecca | August 4, 2012 - 8:48 pm |
6 Comments

Round Three:  DING!!!  (OK, I’m getting sick of the boxing metaphor so from here on out, I’ll just tell ya stuff I’m learning, ok?  OK.)

Here’s what I’m learning:  Some days will be better than others.

One major trigger for my sadness and depression is when my kids have to go visit their father.  I miss them terribly.  It is during those moments without them that I feel most vulnerable, scared, and alone.  This summer, their leaving and then some subsequent difficulties that my daughter experienced while far away from me, had me at an all-time low.

The kids are back home with me now, and I’ve felt a small measure of relief.  The last several days since I picked them up have been good ones.  Then last night, Caleb, my littlest, would NOT go to sleep.  Until midnight I dealt with his crying and screaming.  By then, I had enough adrenaline pumping to give me some kind of super power.  Around about 2am, I finally fell into a fitful sleep.  Fitful sleep not good… since I’ve learned from my beloved counselor that REM sleep is the only time the brain produces serotonin… and honey, I NEED that serotonin.  Do you hear what I’m sayin’?  About 4am, my little insomniac climbed up in my bed, sealing the deal on a sleepless night for me.

Did I mention my husband slept through all of this???  I believe the word “comatose” accurately describes it.

Now, before you get your hackles up (YES that is a REAL expression.  Google it if you’d like.  My boss did just a couple of days ago since he didn’t believe such a phrase existed.) you must know that my husband rises very early in the morning for work.  He functions with a level of energy that would easily outrun a 20 year old.  Then he comes home before I do in the evening so most nights he has dinner ready when I get home.  You should, indeed, feel at least minor annoyance with me for complaining that he slept through this, but I’m just bein’ real here.  In spite of him having perfectly good reason to sleep like a rock, I still felt frustrated and alone and a lil’ bit angry that he didn’t lend a hand with El-Scream-o.

By this morning, I was in tears.  Dwayne was heading to his mom’s house with the kids.  He was off today.  I missed my mom.  I wanted MY mom.  I wanted to be at home with my children. Nothing made sense and the sadness was taking over.  He dropped me off at work, and I exited the car as fast as I could.  I cried in my coffee cup when I got inside, then sucked it up and started work.  Throughout the day, my head pounded and my heart weighed 1,000 pounds in my chest.  I went ahead and let myself feel it.  I refused to check out, but tried during the spare moments I had, to sort out what I was feeling.

I chalked up a good bit of today’s angst to last night’s lack of sleep.  The rest, I talked to God about, and we’re one step closer, one day closer to wholeness.

Some days, my friends, will be good ones.  And some days won’t be good at all.  Every day is still a gift, an opportunity to learn, a chance to grow.  Even the bad ones can bring breakthroughs.

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