32 reasons I love him on his 32nd birthday.

1. Because he's the father of my children - and a very good one at that.
2. He's a person who teeters perfectly at the edge of man and boy. Mostly man but just enough boy to keep him fun.
3. He is so predictable, yet he doesn't see it in himself. I can usually tell him what he's gonna do before he does it. Or he'll begin to ask me a question and before he can even utter three words, I know he's lost his keys again.
4. I love him because of the way he smells. He has a smell all his own.
5. He wants to stay young, even though he mostly acts like a fuddy-duddy. :)
6. He loves his family. Immediate and extended. He makes it a priority to keep in touch with them.
7. He likes Japanimation. That is just too funny and lovable not to mention.
8. He gets his hair cut long before he needs a haircut. He thinks it looks like a Brillo pad if it gets "too long."
9. There's a definite bounce in his walk on his days off. That bounce is one of the reasons I fell in love with him.
10. He is addicted to paper towels. Paper towels are like duct tape to him - so multi-purpose. It just honestly cracks me up, so I love it!
11. He makes me laugh.
12. Watching him with his kids and seeing the way he loves them whole-heartedly makes me love him more.
13. I can be myself when I am with him.
14. He never gives up on us.
15. His soft voice. It's so pretty.
16. I love the slant of his eyes.
17. Even when I am literally out of my mind, I don't scare him off - he accepts me.
18. He calls me his little chigger, because I apparently "live" under his skin... ;)
19. Every time he takes a drink, he involuntarily growls afterward as if to say, "That hit the spot!"
20. He's easy on the eyes.
21. He calls me from work just to say, "I love you."
22. He keeps secrets.
23. He loves my family. Honestly.
24. I love it that I can have intellectual conversations with him.
25. I love it that he's an avid reader - except at bedtime when I'm trying to sleep and his lamp is too bright...
26. He makes me want to be better.
27. I think I make him want to be better.
28. We can shout at the top of our lungs together during Cowboy games. It's awesome.
29. He laughs at my really unfunny jokes. Some of them are pretty funny though.
30. He's ticklish. I love to tickle.
31. He takes longer to get ready than I do, no matter what he tells you, he really does take a long time. Every woman should be so lucky to have those bragging rights.
32. If I ask him whether my butt looks big in something, (hold the chuckles - it's a question of relativity. I realize that there is not any possible way that my bootie looks small ever. The implied question is, "Does my butt look bigger than normal in this?") he answers honestly and always has.

I thought it would be hard to find 32 things to love about him. It wasn't. At the end of my list, I still wanted to add a few.

What a great man!

Have a Happy Brithday!

My angel

Isn't is funny how when a person is at the highest high, happiest happy, swellest swell people flock to them?
It's human nature. People are drawn to happiness, success, and positive things. Wedding days, baby births, birthday parties, all the fun stuff - it's as natural to desire to be a part of those celebrations in others' lives as it is to look forward to those moments in your own life.

Some people are just happy by nature, never allowing themselves the gluttony of self pity or the aggravation of inadequacy. They just plod along with their faces to the sky and seem to truly enjoy their lives, come what may.

So what of the 'negative nellies?'

You know those. We all know at least one. You might even BE one. I myself have been really strung out on negativity for a while now. Some of us are affected by hurtful inner thoughts more than others. Some people struggle day after day with mental and emotional anguish. Some call it a "bad hair day" or "pms" or whatever, but we all know that it is a day to avoid the person who has been affected by the 'negative nellies' as if it is some kind of virus. After all, it's contagious.

It can get to the point that you don't want to be around you either, and as a courtesy to those around you, you avoid exposing them to what ails you.

I have been there. Hoping each day for at least a month that today would be the day that I felt the warmth of the sunshine again. What bothers me most is that it is an obvious weakness. I hate weakness. No. I detest it.

Inner weakness is a sure way to prove that I haven't been relying of God.

Today, in spite of the fact that I tried to construct an excuse not to be able to go to church, I ended up going. I sat by myself initially. Then God sent me an angel.

The sermon was eye-opening and difficult to hear all at the same time. It was about healing. Pastor addressed many misconceptions or misconstruances (made up word) about healing.
I always think of someone in a wheelchair or somebody with cancer when I think of those needing to be healed. Today it was revealed to me that the emotional sickness I have been struggling with is just that - a sickness. Something that I can, in fact, be healed of. I need to be healed. This sickness is slowly taking away my capacity to love.

I have always been a 'picker' - you could never make me any happier than to ask me to take care of a blackhead for you - gross, I know, but true. As a result of my obsession with 'picking', I have been sitting in a dark place 'picking' at my wounds for way too long.

I wrestled with the altar call. I knew that the people who would answer the call were most likely in need of REAL healing. Not like me, the girl who just needs to get over herself and get it together for crying out loud.

I had one of those 'good guy vs. bad guy sitting on my shoulder' moments where I really tried to rationalize and size up God's ability - as if God pours a tiny amount of His Glory into a measuring cup and drizzles it ever so lightly over the most deserving. The bad guy on my shoulder argued that God would never waste even a drop of His healing juice on my stupid emotional drama. Just get a good self-help book already. Better yet, get some help of the pharmaceutical variety.

Then the good guy on my shoulder reminded me of Jesus' 40 days of fasting in the wilderness just after His Baptism.
Even though Jesus had the power to turn those rocks into a loaf of bread at Satan's suggestion, He withstood. He did that for me. For anyone who deals with those mental battles.
He withstood the cunning delusions of Satan - Challenges far greater than any I've experienced or will experience because I needed to be able to trust in a God Who has 'been there.' He bore that burden for me.
Then He took it to the cross.

Isaiah 53:5
But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

So I went to the altar. The altar of healing. The altar of expectation. A place where I could meet with God, show Him my wounds, and ask for His healing.

I was ushered by an angel, though I didn't know it at the time. The very moment I arrived there, two hands gently pressed on my shoulders as if to say, "I'm here. I understand."
And I knew she did.

I have been ruminating on a certain Scripture because of the nature of this battle.
While I stood at the altar, Pastor prayed a simple prayer for me. He said, "Renew."
"Renew."
Over and over, He prayed for renewal. Just the one word, renew.
At that point, I knew. I was validated. My cries had been heard by God. You see? Here's my Scripture:

Romans 12:2 And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.

Whether or not I will wake up tomorrow and wage a battle again for my sanity, I do not know.
I am believing for healing. That healing begins in my thoughts. The renewing of my mind. It will take time. But soon I will feel the warmth of His Sonshine upon my face and loving and trusting will become easy again.

I am loving the thought of loving with abandon once again.

Bone-chilling words

From the kids' bathroom, muffled by the sounds of splashing water and gurgles, these words just floated to my ears...

"We've got to get this finished before Mom sees this."

It is altogether too horrifying a thought to walk to the bathroom.

What could it be?

I don't even care. I mean, I care. But my caring simply does not prevent reality from unfolding as it will. Where there are kids, there are messes.

If the bathroom was not smeared with soap...
If the toilet paper was not pulled from the roll and puddled on the floor...
If the toothbrushes had not been covered with gobs and gobs of toothpaste which, in turn, glued the toothbrushes to the countertop...
If the mirror wasn't slathered with indiscriminate ooze to the point that you could no longer see yourself in it...

It just wouldn't feel like home.

Ahhh! The sweetness of child rearing is sometimes too wonderful to take in.

Hearing Aids

I really want to get to that place of hearing God's voice where He no longer has to establish roadblock after roadblock to keep me where I'm supposed to be, but only has to say, "Go here" and I follow.

I feel like a little toddler cruising around trying to get up the forbidden staircase or touch a hot stove, and He must be continually preventing me from it.
I don't want to be a toddler anymore.
I want to know that I know God wants me here, doing what He wants me to do, and content to do it.

Growth and maturity. Trust and obedience. The same concepts I endeavor day after day to impart to my children, yet still at nearly 26 years into my Christian walk, I struggle with the same things.

How much patience God has with me!

Saturday.

I think there should be a special name for the first Saturday after you start back to work:
Maybe 'Ahhhhhhhhhh....-day.'
Maybe 'Scrub-your-knuckles-off-day'
Maybe 'Shamelessly-drink-an-entire-pot-of-coffee-while-still-wearing-yesterday's-mascara-day'
On second thought, maybe Saturday says it all.

Secrets

My mom asked Jaron what he was going to learn in Kindergarten.

He said, "I'm gonna learn to read and do math. I'm not gonna learn how to spell though because then Mommy and Daddy couldn't have any secrets."

A few first day shots

A day to remember

I woke them up at 7am, hoping to give them the most sleep possible.
They wanted Lego Eggo Waffles and Milk. (Woohoo! Easy!)

They got dressed and watched a few minutes of cartoons while I scurried around getting everything out to the van. Jaron said he was 'too old' for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse - his favorite morning show last year.

I took pictures.
We went to school.
There were no tears.
Everyone had a great day.
It was so normal - more so than I anticipated.
Then it was over.

Thoughts about the day:

My kids have begun and perfected this habit of NEVER LOOKING AT THE CAMERA the moment the shot is snapped. (Partly because my camera is super old and slow and cheap and it flashes about 3 times before 'the real moment' happens; partly because they are being honery and don't actually want me to get a good picture...)

I feel blessed to have 2 kids who are still at the age where they say cute things and still have a teensy bit of squishiness on their elbows. That is the true mark of a baby. Squishy elbows.

They are beginning to act differently - more grown up. We are just beginning to deal with more 'Big Kid' issues. And I see them more and more as big kids interested in bigger kid things and labelling things that have framed so much of our lives for so long now as "babyish."

I do love to see their development. I do.

I also miss that baby love. There really is nothing so sweet as the breath of a baby on your chest while you sleep. Or the tender, trusting looks that without words tell you that 'you can do no wrong' in their eyes.

I begin to wonder how many more times my kids will ask me to hold them. How many more times will I have them appear in my bed at night? How many more times will I have the gift of bathing them?

Their basic needs that once seemed to consume my world are slipping away from my list of daily duties as they gain their independence. I am at once relieved and remorseful. I never realized how much I needed them to need me.

Gone are the days of strollers, cutting up their food, and dressing them in outfits I chose for them.

They are now - all too suddenly - little people with vivid imaginations, strong opinions, and sweaty armpits. Tears.