"Just Because" Flowers are the BEST!

I had a good day yesterday. I got some house work done. I got to spend time reading my Bible and had a fire going in the fireplace. I enjoyed playing blocks with Jack and Carter. I got to spend some time reading with Natalie. It was a refreshing day. Then, Jeff strolled through the door after work with a big boquet of roses. As my heart was melting I was in pure panic mode for about 3 seconds searching my brain trying to remember which occasion I had forgotten but alas, there was none. I asked him what they were for and he just said, "Because I love you." And I love him back. A lot.

Everyday I wake up and wonder how it's possible to love my little family more than I did the day before. As I look at my kids right before bed, right after we pray with each child, my heart is overjoyed. I love every single one of them more than I feel like my heart can handle. I fall into bed thinking my heart is topped off then wake up the next morning beside the husband I love more than I can explain and turn my head to realize there is a small face staring directly at mine standing so close to my bed with their warm breath spilling out of their little smile. I sigh as I realize that my heart grew again. Overnight. And I can tell that yet again, I am a little more in love than the day before.

"To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways"

"Certainty is the mark of the common-sense life: Gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness; it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. Immediately we abandon to God, and do the duty that lies nearest, He packs our life with surprises all the time. When we become advocates of a creed, something dies; we do not believe God, we only believe our belief about Him. Jesus said, "Unless you...become like little children." Spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, but uncertain of what He is going to do next. If we are only certain in our beliefs, we get dignified and severe and have the ban of finality about our views; but when we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy." --Oswald Chambers

I want to live like this. I want to feel God's lead and be confident enough to walk with a blindfold over my eyes knowing that even though it feels like I'm free-falling I'm actually being carried in the palm of his hands. I want to break away from the normal-ness that is safe, certain... vanilla. I want to dive further into a life that is mysterious for the wonders that are God. I want to be one that trusts more times than doubts. I want to be one that follows more times than tries to lead. I want to be one to sing out in worship more times than cry in disappointment. I want to be one to teach my children about God's love through example and not words. My heart yearns for this. I'm moving more and more towards this everyday even though it's a process. I just want to be so close to God that when he whispers in my ear I don't even have to turn my head closer to hear because I'm already that close.

As I'm reading through 2 Samuel I'm seeing on the pages David talking to God. A conversation between the two. David asks and God answers. Simple as that. David knows what God is saying, directing him to do, where to go and it is up to him to listen or to turn away but the question isn't whether or not he hears what God was telling him it is is whether or not he chooses to obey. I want to hear God. I realize this means that I have to listen. Sometimes that's hard for me (I'm better at talking) but it really is my heart's desire to follow his lead, become like a little child and ultimately "live a life of uncertainty with breathless expectation."

Red Paint

Good news (mom), I'm inspired to write again! Bad news. I have nothing to write about. So I guess I'll just ramble. As opposed to my freakishly insightful writings that I normally produce... (Laughing at that is allowed.)

I bought red paint a couple of weeks ago. I've been wanting to paint our front door red. Yes, I'm well aware that everyone has a red door, but it's just not true because I don't have one! And I want one. So my sweet husband took the kids and I to Lowes two weeks ago. He went to the wire department (or where ever he actually went) and I went to the paint department. I browsed all the reds comparing them under different lighting (I know that it's going to be outside and really won't matter anyway but I wanted to look like I knew what I was doing you know, picking out paint like a big girl and all). I had Jack in the cart and he would let me know if it was too orangy (technical term) or too pink or too bright. Finally we found the perfect red. Jeff strolled into the paint department at just the right time and Jack and I proudly displayed our paper paint sample to Natalie, Carter, and him as we anxiously awaited their immediate approval. It was a bit anticlamactic but it would have to do. Because I'm easily amused I exitedly jumped (once) and walked confidently over to the paint lady (another technical term), handed her the sample and said "I want to paint my front door this color!" Right. She looked none too impressed with niether my enthusiasm nor my choice of color, but ask me if I cared in that moment (I didn't).

She rolled her eyes and asked in a monotone voice, "Do you want a whole gallon?" Uh, I have no idea paint lady you're the expert, you tell me how much I will need. "I guess. What about a half gallon?" Looking super annoyed she said, "We don't sell a half gallon. Just a gallon or quarts and you'll need more than one quart and two quarts cost more than a gallon." Of course they do. "Well then I guess we'll take a gallon." "Fine." Wow, paint lady. You are totally ruining this experience for me. I glance over at Jeff and he sort of shoots me this I-know-she's-not-being-nice-just-be-patient look so I wait as she goes and checks stuff on her computer. Suddenly a paint guy shows up who appears to know more about paint than the paint lady does and he starts asking me about primer. I tell him my door is white right now and I want the red to be a deep red, not a bright red so I guess I want the primer to be darker, not just white. I had him for about half of my sentence until he sees that Jeff is wearing a BowTech "official-looking" shirt and starts talking about hunting. Seriously, paint guy was my only hope for a sucessful experience and I lost him to hunting? Back to paint lady I go.

I look over at her to see how she's doing and she's seriously taking forever on the computer. The kids are getting antsy to get out of there and we still haven't even discussed primer (since I lost paint guy to my husband). She leaves to check on primer costs and comes back annoyed that the computerized paint mixer-upper hasn't done it's job. She restarts it and grabs the primer. She says they don't have the primer color I want, but she's sure if she just adds some black to some white it will be fine. I don't trust her. Next, paint guy goes over to check the paint the lady had mixed up on the computer and says (loud enough for us to hear), "Is this the color they're painting their door? Pink!?" Uh, no. It is not. Clearly paint lady is either completely confused or simply does not know how to order the computer to mix the paint. Either way I've decided (over the last 2 minutes of our 40 minute wait on paint) that we will not be buying paint here.

We didn't have time that day to go to Jerry's or Home Depot to get the paint, but 2 days later I did get it. I was super excited to get the door done but I learned at the paint store that we have to wait until there's like three days in a row of sunshine so the door won't get too much moisture. At this rate I won't be painting until mid July and I could have just held out for the Lowes paint lady to get her act together because it might take our beautiful state that long to have 3 nice days in a row anyway.

Oh, and on a side note (since I apparently have to have one in every post): I'm pretty sure the Lowes paint lady and Doogie Howser from the pharmacy are related. I'm just sayin'.

Are You Kidding Me!?!

**Before I start this freakishly long post I just want to say that I wish Renee and I didn't live such parallel lives for if we didn't this never would have happened to me.

Good: When something happens and I think to myself, "This will make a great blog!" Bad: When a whole day happens and I think to myself, "This would make a really good book. I just don't know if it would be a drama or a comedy." Almost everything that happens to me eventually turns to comedy though, so here we go.

It all started at 3:42pm when I got off the phone with the nurse who told me the only opening our doctor had before the weekend was at 4:15 and I might want to get there early. We live 35 minutes away from the doctor's office but Jack was coughing pretty bad which was making his breathing labored. Most likely RSV. We've been there before, a lot. So even though I had no choice but to take all three kids with me and realistically couldn't even be there on time I said I'd take the appointment.

Fast forward an hour and a half. The doctor already confirmed that his breathing was bad, his oxygen levels a bit low, and it would be best to get him on an inhaler. She wrote up the prescription and faxed it in to the pharmacy. I drag the kids into the store and walk up to the pharmacy tech who had to be all of 16 years old. He looks us up on his computer and shrugs his shoulders and says, "Sorry, they must not have called it in. It's after 5 so you're just gonna have to wait till tomorrow." Oh, no little boy, you did not just say that to me. I immediately pull out my cell phone (cause I'm cool and I know how to use it now) and call an after hours line and ask a nurse to call it in again. I go back up to Doogie Howser and ask him to look again. He confirms that it's still not there and I say I'll come back in 15 minutes to check again. I walk around the store for 20 minutes and come back to wait in line for 15 more just to ask the kid if it's in. He said it got called in as I was walking away (but apparently he didn't feel the need to tell me). I go to the "pick-up line" where they tell me it will be an hour to an hour and a half. Seriously. I should have known better.

I drag the kids back out to the car and go buy them ice cream and we drive around forever (said in the Sandlot voice) before finally returning. We wait in line for 20 minutes before the lady gives us the news that it's still in the "beginning process" and will be at least another hour. We walk around more. We return an hour later and wait in line for another 15 minutes. Good, it's done. I look at the price-total in horror and she asks, "You didn't have an insurance to bill, did you?" "YES, I DID!" "Oh, oops. Sorry. Take this whole thing and go wait in that first line again."

By this time the kids are completely in melt down central and I'll admit I was right there with them. I felt like pulling someone's hair out. We get to the "insurance" line and end up with Doogie again (great) only to find out that insurance pays for like 2% of this stuff and we get to pay the rest. FINE. I don't even care just get me outta here. Doogie sends us to the end of the other line (again) and finally we get squared away. All we have to do is wait to "consult" with the pharmacist who eventually tells us our doctor is wrong and Jack's too young for the mouth piece she prescribed to go with the inhaler and we'll need to buy the mask that happens to be $54 (a plastic mask!) As we are waiting in the second line (for the 6th time) I look down to see that Jack has wet through his pull-up all the way down to his socks, Carter has already broken the toothbrush holder I had bought earlier, and Natalie was sitting criss-cross-applesauce in the middle of the floor singing to herself while she swayed back and forth. When we get up to the front of the line and the lady says, "I'm not sure I know how to do this type of transaction." Carter yells, "This day just keeps getting worser and worser and I'm NOT kidding!" As we were finally walking out the pharmicist waves to get my attention so that he could let me know "this medicine will make him a bit hyper." Right. Of course it will.

Finally we get home (4 hours after we entered the store the first time). I end up having to literally sit on Jack and hold his hands down to get him to "try" the medicine. I finally get Jack to bed (before the hyper-ness set in) and go back into the kitchen to find Carter pushing the inhaler button and watching "mist" come out over and over again. "Look Mommy, rain!" You have got to be flipping kidding me! Seriously, I did not just spend $85 and 3 1/2 hours at that pharmacy so that Carter could pretend the albuteral is rain. I have no idea how much is left, but pretty much--- I don't even care right now. I'm now going to bed. Happy. My husband is coming home tomorrow, my kids are all finally sleeping (sans the cough), and I made it through this day because God is good (albiet comedic, nonetheless good).

Where is he again?

When Jeff first started travelling I studied his itinerary so diligently that I knew where he was every hour of every day just in case something happened and I had to get a hold of him. Now sometimes I get preoccupied when he's gone. After all, I have a lot to do taking care of the house, kids and dog (and myself when I can squeeze in a workout) especially when I'm doing it alone. When he's gone I take breaks to clear my head when I can get them such as going out to my parent's house for dinner one night, taking long drives just to have kids and puppy contained, watching far too much HGTV at night when I can't sleep, and watching absolutely no NCIS, CSI, or Monk. He's been travelling for business for four and a half years and although I wouldn't say it's gotten easier, apparently I have grown accustomed to it. Today a lady (the lady who works at the Fred Meyer Playland-- being there is another indication that he's gone) asked where he went on his trip this time and I found myself replying, "I have no idea. Missouri, maybe?" At first I was embarrassed that I didn't know where he was (he actually went a few different places this time)... but I quickly decided that next time, instead of admitting that I really don't know, I'm going to take note from Jack who looked right up at her and simply said, "An airplane."

Leaving On A Jet Plane

**I'm writing this post at the risk of sounding like a pathetic love sick teenager.

The kids and I drove Jeff to the airport this morning for a business trip. He'll be gone through Friday. He usually just drives himself but since his car is in the shop we dropped him off in the Suburban. I'm especially heart sick and I'm well aware it's the very beginning of day one, but it's different. We don't usually drive him there. It's not usually this big hoopla with him walking around the car giving hugs and kisses to everyone and us watching him walk away pulling his suitcase with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder. We don't usually see planes taking off as we drive away.

It's usually him leaving before we're even awake. If we are awake, it's more like he's just going to work and coming home 5 days later. It's usually not so obvious that he's going so far away. The morning felt super long (and not just because we got up at 5 in order to drop him off on time). The kids were slower at getting ready and eating breakfast because they were asking a million questions about his trip. They weren't super sad or anything (they can't remember when he didn't travel for work) but them asking made me a little sad. Yesterday we played outside with the kids and then sat on the deck as we watched them run laps around the backyard while we timed them to see how fast they could touch all the trees and make it back to us. Jeff looked at me and just said, "I miss you guys." This did not make him leaving any easier.

I am so very thankful that he has such a great job. I am thankful that because he has this great job, I get to stay home with the kids. I am thankful that he loves what he does and who he works with. I can still be sad though, when he leaves. Even if it's "only" for 5 days. I know that a lot of people have loved ones gone for much longer than that, but I still have the right to be a little sad (because he is pretty awesome) and I do miss him. Already.

The "F-Word"

Side Note: I know, who starts a post with a side note, right? I do. Okay, so the side note is this: My husband (Jeff') has a sister named Jeremi. Yes, a girl named Jeremi. And I have a brother named Jeremy. So our kids are probably 3 of very few kids that have both an Uncle Jeremy and an Aunt Jeremi. Just wanted to clear that up as to avoid any confusion during my actual post... which goes as follows...

Last night we had Jeremi, her husband Shane, and their three girls over for dinner. We ate, played freeze tag in the back yard, drank a couple of pots of coffee... you know, the usual stuff. Anyway, after dinner we got to telling stories and laughing until we cried. Everytime we get together we hear ourselves saying, "Man, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time!" but that doesn't really have anything to do with the story. It's just funny that we say it literally every time we get together. So, the kids were playing in the boys bedroom and us adults were in the living room sharing parenting stories.

Mine was this... The other day while Jeff and I were in the car with the kids we could hear them whispering them in the back seat. I asked them what they were saying and Natalie (who is completely incapable of lying and has a higher guilt-factor than even I do) says, "Uh.... Carter said... the F-word." Jeff gives me "the look" which means "just let it go" but since I am incapable of letting things go, I say a quick prayer before diving into this conversation and quietly whisper, "What did you say?" She quickly responds (loudly), "Carter said THE F-WORD!" I (as calmly as I can) reply, "Uh, what's the F-word?" I could see Natalie and Carter exchange glances in the review mirror as they are clearly contemplating the possible repercussions of answering honestly. I wait. They think. I wait some more. Finally Natalie says, "Can I just spell it for you because it's a really bad word and I don't want to get in trouble if you hear me say it out loud. Mom, you're really not going to like this word..." I remain quiet and she continues. "Okay, here I go... Um. F... A... R... T... But I didn't really say it outloud so it doesn't count, and I won't even spell it anymore, I promise!" Even though "fart" has never been my favorite word, right there in that moment I have to admit, it was.