{this moment}: When the Sun Shone on the Baseball Diamond (if only for an hour)

{this moment}:  A Friday ritual.  A single photo (or a few) -of a moment from the week  A simple, special extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

We got lucky this week and had more than a moment of 70 degrees and warm sunshine.  Thursday gave us about one full hour on the baseball diamond before the clouds took over and the heavens poured buckets of rain to cancel the game in the middle of the 4th.  We need you, Spring.  Please come back.  Please.

Second Stitch Fix Box!!

My second Stitch Fix box arrived last week.  I was so excited when I first saw it.  It's such a fun surprise.  But then I got a little nervous and was kind of afraid to open it.

See, when you get a Stitch Fix account you are assigned a stylist.  After you get your box of clothes, you are to go online and fill in notes to your stylist about each item - what you liked, what you didn't, and why.

My stylist's name is Courtney.  I thought for sure that Courtney was a robot/internet/fake Siri type thing.  But I think my Courtney is like a real life Rachel Zoe because last time I made a joke in my comments about how I really wanted to buy everything in my first box, but my credit card was hurting from Christmas.  And Courtney wrote back this time making reference to that.  So if Courtney is a robot, she has a good sense of humor.  I've always liked that in a robot.

Anyway, that was a lot of words to lead you into why I was nervous.  Back in January when I made notes to Courtney, I didn't realize that it would snow for a million days - give or take - in February and March.   I should have sent her a note right quick before she sent my 2nd box.

Dear Courtney,
I'm so glad you're not a robot.  I need you to know something and since you seem to be a real woman with feelings, I think you might be able to relate.  Winter brought us somewhere around 7,324 inches of snow which meant that my boys were out of school for about 7,324 days.  My boys seem to want to eat 7,324 times a day when they're home which means that I joined them.  Because I am not a robot, Courtney. And sometimes in the middle of a snowstorm nachos happen.  And also wine happens.  And running on a snow covered street doesn't happen.  Like at all.  Sometimes the treadmill happens but usually there are bad words and it is turned off earlier than it should be.  Please still love me, Courtney.  I am a good person.  I think you are, too.
Love,
Jenn

Lo and behold, Courtney and I must have been connected on some level.  Because what was the first thing I picked out of the box? A NEW TOTE BAG, VANNA!  The Anchorage Diamond Printed Tote by Street Level totally fit me, but I didn't buy it - it was really hard, but I have 1,001 totes.  I am trying to ease up on the tote addiction.  It had tons of room for all the books, magazines, snacks, diet cokes, sunscreen, sunglasses and gum one would need for a baseball double header. There was even room for a roll of toilet paper for the Port-A-Potty and that extra athletic supporter that somehow always finds its way into my bag.  I have been filled with daily regret about the fact that I sent this back, but I am told that recovery from tote bag addiction is a one day at a time process.

Item #2 was the Fate Kathina Sheer Cut Out Top.  This was the one right out of the box that I thought I would like.  It fit well and I did like it, but I just had an issue with the way the fabric on my shoulders jutted out.  It's sort of Mork from Ork, don't you think?  If not for that, I would have kept this one

Item #3 was the Zelli Split Back Tee from Market and Spruce.  I have to say that when I first saw this in the box, I was not excited about it.  Then I put it on and it fit really well.  The fabric is so soft and stretchy.  Still I wasn't sold until I saw the split in the back.  I love it.  This one's a keeper.

(PS If anyone has any idea what the heck to do about those elbows, please advise.  Is there such thing as an elbow lift?  It occurs to me that I've not seen my elbows in quite some time, if ever.  I am a bit startled by this revelation.)

Item #4 was the Jerrard Heathered Open Front Cardigan by Paper Moon.  I just don't like it.  At all.  I don't want to hurt Courtney's feelings because she's not a robot.  Maybe I'm just really ready to move past sweaters or something, but this was a no right off the bat. 

Item # 5 was a pair of really cute Aberdine Straight Leg Jeans from Kut from the Kloth.  I am not including a photo because I think we can all agree that I'm way past the selfie quota for a 46 year old woman today.  They were cute and fit great, but I have a pair very similar so I sent those back. 

Now, boys and girls, again, I am not given any money or free cases of diet Coke to tell you about Stitch Fix.  In full disclosure though, I told y'all last time that if you decided to order your own Stitch Fix and used my referral code that I would get a $25.00 credit. 

SO IN BIG BOLD RED LETTERS I WANT TO GIVE A SHOUT OUT AND A GIANT THANK YOU TO TWO OF MY WONDERFUL READERS, MARY AND KIM!!!  THEY USED MY REFERRAL CODE AND I GOT MY TOP FOR ZERO DOLLARS!!! I LOVE YOU, MARY AND KIM!!  THEY DIDN'T TELL ME YOUR LAST NAMES, BUT I STILL LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!

So this is the portion of our day where I become shameless and greedy and therefore will not continue with the big, bold, red letters.  If you want to order a Stitch Fix, you can use my referral code.  

https://www.stitchfix.com/referral/4559584

Have a great day, friends.  And please don't forget to get back to me on that elbow problem. Yikes.



Hearing God's Extraordinary Voice on an Ordinary Day

Much of last week was really icky.  I couldn't seem to look past the cold, the grey, the heaviness of the air.  My Weather app on my phone couldn't either.  Ugly cloud icons hung on each day and then gave way to that darn snowflake on Friday.  And I tried to ignore it, but it just stayed there taking all my hope of spring, renewal, and light away.  Yet as much as I had wished away this winter, the unsettling thing was that I had let it take hold of me.  I had trouble getting up and getting dressed and being where I needed to be.  Little tasks, lunch meetings, carpools, packing lunches(!), things that I had committed to do - even fun outings - they seemed like such a burden.  Did I really need to show up?   Did those people really need me?  On most mornings as I first opened my eyes and trudged downstairs, I wondered if I had suddenly given up to become one with winter.  Because in those early hours before the kids and the husband came downstairs, I felt as cold and grey and icky as the sky.  Worse yet, I felt little motivation to change course.

You know that feeling?  The "not enough" one?  I simply did not have it in me to be enough.  Not a good enough wife.  Not a good enough friend.  Not a good enough mother.  Not a good enough cook to make something that's healthy that everyone will actually put in their mouths.  Not a good enough exerciser to tie her shoes and make her way to the treadmill.  Not a good enough writer to take the words past this place.  Not a good enough will power-er(?) to resist the Girl Scout cookies.  Not a good enough Christian to spread the light that God asks me to spread, because I'm pretty sure He made a mistake.  Not me, God.  I am useless for You.  Surely, you do not need me.

When I feel that I am not much, I decide that I don't need much either.  I don't need other human beings, because I can't give them much.  So I decide I will huddle with my books and my tv and my internet.  Maybe the fictional characters there are enough for me.  Maybe the occasional text or click on the "like" button are enough to keep one foot in the real world without submerging myself into real relationships and real work.

On one of those days last week, under the blanket, on the couch,  I clicked on my friend, Elizabeth's blog.  I saw THIS article which said exactly what I was feeling in words, black and white, in front of my scowling face:

And now, the tempter in the desert is hissing loudly in our ears. Not good enough. Not patient enough. Not organized enough. Not diligent enough. The hissing reaches a wild, unfettered crescendo. Not enough. Never enough. Never will be enough.  The accuser is taking up residence inside our heads, and he is speaking to us in our own voices. We hear him talking; the things he’s saying — we are allowing him to say — are things we’d never say to another person. We’d never be so unkind, never be so accusatory, never be so relentless. Somehow, though, the self-evaluation of this season has given way to well-entrenched habits of self-recrimination. We talk to ourselves inside our heads in ways that would astonish people who hear us speak aloud. The enemy has taken up residence, and it’s his voice that is drowning out God’s. God calls to repentance along the path to forgiveness.

As much as I wanted to insulate myself from outside voices, I had been unsuccessful.  I was not alone. I was letting the enemy, the accuser, the tempter take a seat next to me on the couch and talk to me in my own voice.  And with one look at the date on the calendar, I realized something else.  (insert smacking hand against forehead) 

Ladies, do you know who the enemy's trusty sidekick is?

PMS.  The devil's right hand man, y'all. 

So I knew what I was dealing with.  I knew that I would feel better in a few days.  Probably just at the time that I needed to reach into the cabinet under the bathroom sink for that pink box.  And I wish I could tell you that after reading all of Elizabeth's words and praying on them, that I jumped up and started takin' care of business.  But I didn't.  I think I sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter.

On Saturday morning - the day after the cold, grey spring snow fell and turned to cold, grey rain - the sunshine peeked in through the blinds and woke me up earlier than I wanted to get up.  Steve and the littlest guy were away for the weekend.  The big boys were still asleep.  But now I was awake.  I tried not to be angry at the sun because WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE, SUNSHINE AND WHY DID YOU PICK THIS UNGODLY HOUR TO  SHOW UP ON A SATURDAY MORNING?

Before the boys woke, I spent more time reading Elizabeth's words and the words she had relayed from Corinthians:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.^[a] The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.

I'd read it before.  I knew it to be true.  But somehow I still wasn't letting God's voice drown out the other voices.  I clicked away.

Later that morning, the big boys were out of the house and I tended to the things I had let go during the icky week.  I vacuumed and dusted and cleaned and laundered.  I turned up my Iphone and I sang: THIS and THIS and THIS.  And I felt a little bit, kinda, sorta happy-ish.

And then the 14 year old walked in from practice and gave me a hug while I still was holding the vacuum in one hand.

Let's write that again.  THE 14 YEAR OLD CAME IN AND GAVE ME A HUG. 

And then he asked if we could go get him a haircut.

Let's write that again.  HE ASKED ME ABOUT THE HAIRCUT.  HE ASKED.

So I looked around to see if I was being punked and I got dressed in real clothes.  And I brushed my hair and put on some lip gloss.  And we went to lunch.  The 14 year old and me.  And we talked.  Like, we talked - the both of us - not just me.  And we laughed.  Later, the 14 year old and I sat on the couch and switched between Cops and Walker, Texas Ranger.  And we talked.  And we laughed.

Saturday evening, the 14 year old had a church event, so the 16 year old and I went to dinner.  And we talked and we laughed.  We discussed our busted basketball brackets.  And then we sang songs in the car.

When I shut my eyes that night I realized that I was actually smiling - a big, goofy grin.  I thought about my ordinary, extraordinary day.  It occurred to me that God has some pretty trusty sidekicks of His own.  Sometimes, at least with me, He has to gather them all up together to make a point and to drown out that other voice.

God's voice had come to me through a small sliver of sunlight waking me before I meant to wake.  It had come to me as I sipped a fizzy diet coke and shared buffalo wings in a booth in a sports bar.  It had come to me when we hit rewind again and again and cracked up at a ridiculous commercial on some random cable channel.  It had come to me over a brownie sundae with two spoons and a boy who grows taller by the second.  It had come to me through the strangest, most confusing of His creations:  the teenager.

God made me new a long time ago.  He made me enough a long time ago.  He forgave me a long time ago.  And even though I know all of that, I, so often let other voices drown His out. 

But His voice is always there right in front of me.  In His word, in a friend's blog post, in a song, in a changing season, in the sudden bursting laughter of my teenagers.

His voice assures me in the most ordinary circumstances:  You are loved. You are blessed.  You are enough. 

(and just to be sure I remember next time, I counted out 28 days on the calendar and I wrote myself a note)

Winter (Not) Lovin': AKA Time to Get a Restraining Order

Y'all.

Winter is stalking us.  It has become the new Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction.

It was pretty clear to me that Winter had taken a trip to Crazytown when I got a call at 6:20 am this morning that school would be closed due to accumulating snow and/or ice today.  A day which my calendar assures me is MARCH 20TH.  As soon as I hung up the phone, I could've sworn I heard Winter hiss,

"I will not be ig-NORED, Dan."

So before we find a bunny rabbit boiling in a pot on the stove, I'm going to go ahead and squeak out a Winter Lovin' post. 

But listen up, you psycho freak Winter, Sweetheart.  Put the icicle down and slowly step away.  March 20th is as far as you get.  You must stay within a court ordered number of miles and days of us which is no where near our fair city, ok?  We don't love you.  You're not our type.  There is nothing to be done about it.  Even the stores are tired of you.  They are selling your stuff for almost no dollars and cents, so I will do you this favor and feature you here in the blog today. But, then be on your way, ok? 

(The above is why the young folk will never read my blog.  How sad that a Fatal Attraction movie reference would be lost on those of a certain age.  Of course, those pesky young things do have the Google, don't they?  They'll figure it out.) 

Ok, SERIOUS sales are happening.  The only glitches are that you have to be quick and sizes can be limited.  I believe in you though.  So focus, click, decide.  No dilly-dallying.  Here we go.

Puffer Jacket from JCrew

THIS  jacket was originally $188.00 and now it's on sale for $59.99, but THEN if you put it the code SPRINGSALE at checkout you can get it for $34.99!  WHAT?  Winter is desperate, y'all.  (And also, it's lightweight, so will still be good for Spring nights at the ballpark or early mornings on the soccer field.)

Wool Melton Swing Coat from JCrew

Back in the late 80s/early 90s, Sister had a great swing coat.  When I think back on that time, I think of that swing coat. I'm sure it had giant shoulder pads and also it's likely that underneath it, Sister wore a plaid drop waist dress with a lace collar.  Still, I have fond memories of the swing of that coat. I think Sister was caught right smack in the middle of a fashion-do and a fashion-don't.  THIS one from JCrew is a really pretty color.  The best news is that it was originally $366, but with the sale and the code, you can have this coat for $104 and some cents. I'm not good at math but that seems like about 327% off.

Cabled Ella Pull Over

I saw THIS way back in January at Anthropologie  and I was so close to buying it.  Now I know that we want to buy sleeveless shirts and shorts right now.  I know we cannot bear to consider cable knit anything at this late date.  But, Friend, just as sure as I'm sitting here, there are snowflakes coming out of the sky.  And the thing is this adorable sweater was $118 and now is on sale for just $29.99.  So I would even support one purchasing this on the hottest day in August.  I mean, it's a free country and a country in which most of us have closets, so you can save it for later.  You and I both know that just about the only thing you can usually get at Anthro for $29.99 is a candle, so somebody, please hop on this right quick.

Spanish Chicken Stew with Almonds at Panera
It is a sad fact that, unless you get really fired up about a Five Dollar Footlong,  my neighborhood has very few adequate places for a gal to meet her friends for lunch,. 

(Let's pause here and let perspective smack the spoiled brat blogger right up side the head so that she understands that no, that is not even a remotely sad fact.  It doesn't register on the sad scale at all, Shallow Suzie.)

Ok.  We do have a Panera which I find enjoyable.  This winter I have been a fan of the Spanish Chicken Stew which is not even pictured on the website and which is not on sale for 7,000 percent off as far I know.  But it is really good and perfect if it's freezing outside and you want to eat something hot while asking your girlfriend to pray for you so that you will stop being a spineless clod of grievances about the lack of hip eateries in your 'hood.  THESE BROTH BOWLS, despite the very unfortunate name, are really yummy, too.

Books

Ok, books are really an all year long thing, but I've read a ton this winter.  I got on a kick of reading memoirs by funny women this winter and I do believe those books might have saved me from spending a boatload of cash on psychotherapy, prescription drugs and mint chocolate chip ice cream to manage my Seasonal Affective Disorder.  I read Amy Poehler's Yes, Please, Tina Fey's Bossypants, Mindy Kaling's Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?  and Home is Where My People Are by Sophie Hudson, the author of the adorable and hilarious blog, Boo Mama.  I'm pretty sure all of these books annoyed the fire out of my husband because I would burst out laughing reading them while he was trying to fall asleep.  And then later when he was almost asleep, I would turn out the light and try to fall asleep myself and I would remember something from one of the books and start laughing again.  So, it's not easy to share a bed with me, but it's not my fault he asked me to marry him.

Boots
There are eleventy million pairs of boots on sale at Nordstrom.  I'm not gonna even link there.  Just go on.

Well, that'll be it now, Winter.  Game over.  Move out.  Skeedattle.  Don't let the door hit you on the way out.  We don't want to have to call Anne Archer out of retirement to come shoot you in the bathtub when that creepy bubble comes out of your nose.

Hey Baseball: I Need More Time

Ok, Baseball.  We need to have a little chat.

Listen.  We've just been a little hasty with this getting back together.  We have jumped the gun as it were.  You're coming on a little strong.  Dude, you're just going to need to GIVE ME A MINUTE, PLEASE.

I mean just less than two weeks ago your fields were covered in snow.  And it's been even less time since I broke up with Basketball.  This just seems a little rushed.

I thought I was ready for our reunion this past Saturday.  Friday it was sunny and kind of warm.  So, maybe I was just too optimistic about us getting together the next day.  By Friday night when I saw the forecast, I knew this was just not the right time, Baseball.

You're just rather high maintenance, you know?  Like you require so much of my energy and my time.  So much planning.  Do I need an umbrella?  Do I need my sunglasses and sunscreen?  Do I need a sweatshirt?  If I wear boots, will it suddenly get warm and I'll need my flip flops?  Will there be a long period of time in between games which means I should bring some reading material?  Will there be a concession stand or do I need to pack a cooler?  Will there be a parking space near the field so I can watch from my car and eat popcorn and listen to Bon Jovi?  Will the Port-A-Potty have toilet paper? 

But, as usual, I'm a fool for you, Baseball.  So I got myself up at 5:00 am and traveled in to DC in the dark, pouring down, cold rain - all the while wondering if you were going to cancel on me at the last minute.  I know, I know about your fancy-schmancy turf field.  "Rain is no big deal on my totally awesome super cool turf field."  Blah, blah, blah.  Give it rest.

Look I'm not impressed by all that material stuff anymore.  I know that for years Madonna and 16 Candles made me value a guy with a Jake Ryan smile and a red Porsche, but I've grown up, ok?  You and your turf field do not impress me.  I mean basketball gave me a big, shiny trophy and a last minute victory in the championship and I still left.  Just look at Drew's face.  He's all, "Dude, this is cool, but my mom's totally gonna dump you, man."

I would like to point out for you, Baseball, that Basketball did some very considerate things.  Like providing indoor plumbing.  And heated gyms.  And a time limit.  And cancelling with plenty of notice. I was able to know ahead of time if I could stay in my pjs and eat nachos on my couch and watch 80s movies.  Basketball didn't wait until I showed up with my hair and make up all done to say, "Sorry, Folks.  Park's closed.  Moose out front shoulda told ya."

(There were lots of 80s movies.  Lots.)

Let's just ease in here, alrighty?  Yesterday, I bought all the Oxyclean and the Shout and that bar of soap with the weird name.  We've ordered all the new pretty white pants.  I still need to get the sunflower seeds and the new water bottles because the old ones have disappeared into the black hole that I'm sure also holds all of our lost socks and pacifiers.  I need to fish through the garage and find the fold-up chairs.  I need to say a few prayers so that I remember that umpires are God's children, too. 

Anyway, Baseball.  You know I'll come back.  I always do.  You're just gonna need to take it down a notch, Casey at the Bat, ok?  I'll realize soon enough that I'm the best of myself when I'm with you, but you need to be the best of yourself also and you have some work to do.  Soon.  I will find you, Baseball. Soon.

Psst!

Basketball, guess what?  Texas squeaked its way into the Big Dance!  I can't even believe it.  I can still see you on the side until they lose, ok?  Meet me in front of the TV on Thursday.  Bring nachos.

St. Patrick's Day Shenanigans

Happy St. Patrick's Day,  Friends!  Y'all, I LOVE St. Patrick's Day.  I LOVE IT. 

Here are some important supporting details for this thesis statement.

My mother's side of the family is Irish.  My mom's name is Patricia and she goes by Patsy.  (This would be the female version of the name Patrick for those of you who are still sleepy this morning) Patsy always made a big deal out of St. Patrick's Day.  Green has always been my very favorite color and I have always loved all things mint - Thin Mints, Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream, Vanilla Mint Lip Gloss, Minty Fresh Breath - all the minty things.  I love them.  Also, I know a lot of U2 songs.  I do not, however, like Guinness beer.  But, no matter, because just to prove that I'm not some bandwagoner when it comes to St. Patrick's Day, just lookie here. God even went and gave me my very own Leprechaun!

Let's all take a moment to give thanks and praise for the preschool teachers in the world.  I miss those days something fierce.

Anyway, I feel like I've kind of let my people down in the last few years on St. Patrick's Day because I'm not crafty and I'm not a creative cook and I'm really, really a disaster at baking.  And the Pinterest and the Facebook tend to make me feel a little less than adequate in all those areas around the holidays.

Excuse me while I go look in the mirror and have a Stuart Smalley moment.

Thank you, Stuart.  Today is a new day.  And I am going to show you what's happening in O'Skinner World today.  Don't be alarmed.  You might think that you have inadvertently stumbled on to the completely wrong place because this will almost, not really, but sorta, look like one of those fancy pants food blogs.  Get ready.  It's gonna happen.

The other night the lovely and talented Mrs. C. and I were discussing our great love and admiration for the Shamrock Shake which has made its triumphant return to a McDonald's near you.  The problem with the Shamrock Shake is that I saw a graphic the other day that showed that it has 82 grams of sugar and 680 calories. 

Wah,wah,waaaahhhh.

Now look, friends.  I'm not trying to be a Debbie Downer and this here is not a health and fitness blog any more than it's a food blog.

(In fact, if any of you have determined to which blog category this collection of ramblings belongs, let me know.  Because I am flat out STUMPED.)

Based on facts from the interwebs, it appears that the Shamrock Shake is one sure fire way to find yourself waking up and wondering if you might be able to find an old pair of maternity jeans in the back of your closet.  The lovely and talented Mrs. C. or maybe Mr. C. or someone in the C. family did some poking around and found a recipe for a healthy version of our beloved shake.  HERE'S THE LINK FOR THE RECIPE. I must give credit where credit is due. 

I know what you're thinking:  "AS IF."  Who would ever believe that I would create a recipe out of my own head?

Here is my very foodie professional Iphone photo of the ingredients.  Do you see how I place all the taller items in the back and the smaller items in the front for optimal viewing?  I can barely stand myself.

All you do is blend all that stuff up - the measurements are on the website in the link.  I really, really liked it,  I promise it was really good.  I do want to point out that the recipe calls for an 1/8 of a teaspoon of peppermint extract which I thought sounded like it couldn't possibly be enough to cancel out that spinach. But be warned, even an 1/8 teaspoon is A LOT.  I love mint, but even for me, it was coming awfully close to being a Scope Shake instead of a Shamrock Shake.  The good news is that if you're wearing your "Kiss Me I'm Irish" shirt, you'll be all set.  Or your "Kiss Me I'm a Longhorn" shirt as the case may be.

Now.  I know that many of you are feeling inadequate right now. Because that was some really complicated blending I did there.  And then I went and posted that breathtaking photo that Drew took of my torso.  So, if you're feeling like the healthy Shamrock Shake is just not in your wheelhouse, let me give you another idea.

Costco always has these shamrock shaped four cheese raviolis all made up for you in the fridge section.  The package says it has an "artisan blend of cheeses" See that?  Artisan. Very impressive.  I went to Costco yesterday and I was so nervous because I thought for sure they'd be all gone by then, but there they were!  That's what we call the Luck o' the Procrastinating Irish, my friends.  

Tune in next week, when I'll be discussing how to properly put an Eggo waffle in the toaster. 

May God hold you in the palm of His hand today, Everyone!  Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!

My Fears, His Plans and Happy Meals (Titles are Hard)

Well, due to the time change and the fact that we actually had school every day this week, I am confused as to what day it is.  It's somewhere between Throwback Thursday and Flashback Friday. Since I'm feeling rather annoyed by my inability to control time in the lives of  my children, I'm throwing it back as far as it can go for my oldest boy.

This is the first time Joe looked at me.  (Just in case you're wondering, he is much cuter in color)  Earlier this week, after coming home from an appointment with the doctor who delivered two of my three boys,  I went on a frantic search for this photo.  I was a bit of a mess when I got home because that day I had had a sonogram - the first sonogram I'd ever had where we weren't looking for something wonderful like baby heartbeats and baby spinal columns and baby fingers and toes.  (ALERT:  Earmuffs, Male Readers) I'd had some sort of odd "female issues" happening in the last month, so my doctor was mildly concerned and to be on the safe side, he wanted to check things out.  The good news is that there was not anything very interesting to see in there.  Perhaps a very, very minor thing, but nothing scary, nothing unmanageable and most certainly nothing wonderful.  *sigh*

Looking at that screen, I knew for sure what was not in there this time. There was no baby, of course.  Still as I looked at those black and white shadows while the technician drew lines measuring ovaries and fallopian tubes and whatnot, I have to admit that I imagined for a few minutes what it would be like if there had been some sort of wonderfully crazy and highly medically improbable story to tell when I called my husband later that day.  What would it be like to see one more little fluttering flickering light? What would it be to know that there would be one more of us?

Don't be alarmed, I wasn't delusional.  It's just that I needed to keep my mind occupied since they had told me that I had to have a full bladder for the procedure, so I lay there and imagined the impossible possibility that there could be something wonderful on that screen so that I wouldn't focus on how desperately I needed to pee and how ridiculously fast I had become a mother of a child with a GPA and daily mail from colleges flooding my mailbox.

I imagined that I was just like all the women who had sat next to me in the waiting room a few moments before.  The one whose shirt stretched tight against her growing belly as she shifted in the chair trying to get comfortable.  The one whose young husband sat nervously beside her, his hand on her knee while they filled out paper work.  The one who leafed through a Parenting magazine as she used her foot to rock a newborn baby in her carrier.

I know, I know.  For some reason I forgot about the hemorrhoids and the economy size bottle of Tums that sat next to my bed and the fact that every time my husband made me laugh I peed. (DUDES.  I was pretty clear:  Earmuffs!)  I forgot about how I threw up every time I ate pizza and how I had to change from sleeping on my back to sleeping on my side.  Who am I kidding?  I forgot about the fact that there really was no sleep anyway.

But I also remembered how Husband and I would stay in bed on Saturday mornings watching Saved by the Bell and talk about names.  He would say no to about 90% of them.  If he liked one, he would try it out by putting on a mad father voice and yelling out "JOE CHARLES, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW".  When I suggested Kelly for a girl, he would sing the Kelly, Kelly Kelly Song that Woody sang on Cheers and I would picture a green-eyed girl with a blond ponytail and a daddy who would be wrapped around her perfect little finger.  I remembered how I went to Whole Foods and bought whole wheat flour and all the other stuff they told me to buy in What to Expect When You're Expecting, but how I ended up at the Taco Bell drive-thru a couple times a week.  I remembered that first sonogram and how we sat in my 1996 Honda Accord in wonder for awhile.  I don't remember which one spoke first or much of what we said, but I do remember that although Husband was not the rallying activist type, he said he thought he might need to find a ProLife rally to march. Instead of that, I think we went to Taco Bell.

And then last night, that little grainy baby who I swear to goodness was in my belly five minutes ago and I went to the high school to listen to a panel of folks talk to us about College Admissions.

And I cried about it at least twice during the day leading up to it.  I thought for a bit that maybe I'd changed my mind about the whole higher education nonsense.  I loved my college experience, but I forgot about it for a good part of yesterday. I mean, were my parents completely INSANE?  Who decided that 18 was a good age for that madness? Sure, there's learning and expanding your horizons and meeting new people, but College is not HERE in my HOME.

I got there a bit before Joe did and took my seat among other neglectful parents who were considering this colossally bad idea.  For a few minutes when those college people started talking it took all I had not to stand up and shuffle past everyone in the auditorium shouting, "NEVER MIND, WE'VE JUST MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE IN COMING HERE.  WE'RE GOING TO NEED TO JUST SCOOT BY REAL QUICK.  MAKE WAY, PLEASE.  WE'RE JUST GONNA STOP OFF FOR A HAPPY MEAL.  IT'S JUST THAT WE'RE COLLECTING ALL THE MONSTERS, INC. TOYS, YA KNOW?  WE HAVE LIKE THREE OF THE SULLY TOYS, IF ANYONE WANTS TO TRADE? WE NEED THE GUY WITH THE ONE EYE?  WE'RE FEELING LUCKY TONIGHT, SO WE'LL JUST BE ON OUR WAY NOW.  CARRY ON,"

Then Joe came in and sat next to me.  He's gigantic now. And he's handsome.  And he's funny. And he's sweet and smart and he loves Jesus. And sometimes he gets on my last nerve.  And, OH MY WORD, I just love him so darn much. 

And I almost laughed out loud because it is so ridiculous how soon I forget one incredibly important fact.  God made my child who he is.  God thinks he's all that I think he is and He knows what he will be later.  God is not at all panicked about this boy's future.  God does not feel like He's gonna puke.  God loves that kid so darn much.  Even more than I do. EVEN MORE.

It was only two days ago, that the intro speaker at my Bible study read the verse from Jeremiah:

"For I know the plans I have for you", declares the Lord. "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future."

So, I tried really hard to focus and listen to the panel.  I tried really hard to remember that the plans He has for my kid are His plans, not mine. And I tried to remember to talk to God about my fears and to trust God with whatever path this boy decides to take.  And I tried to remember my friends who would gladly skip into that auditorium if only their children were still here to look toward a future.

Then I forced my hand to grip tight to my pen so that I wouldn't reach over like some crazy freak and hold my 16 year old boy's hand.  And I took a deep breath and realized that even if I couldn't hold his hand, God would.  Forever and ever.  No matter what, He would not let him go. 

"I will give them eternal life and they will never perish.  And no one will snatch them out of my hand."

John 10:28

A Couple Things (or 5) You Likely Don't Need to Know About Today

Hi, Friends,

Yesterday was something like the 10th or 78th day that school has been cancelled and today the weather gal with the inappropriately tight sweater is saying sleet will be arriving around 4:00 pm.  I am possibly going to need to be institutionalized.  Which leads me to my new favorite thing I've seen on The Twitter, et al.  This is for you, Weather gal or woman or person or whatever you like to be called.

It is likely a really bad idea to start writing right now, but my kids are at school today and there are some very important and inspirational things on my mind that I'm quite sure you are going to want to read and then print and save for reference at some future point in your life when maybe you're feeling stuck and needing some direction.  Or you might want to just click away now. 

1.  As a Texan, I must mention that yesterday was Texas Independence Day, which we Texans think is the most important day ever.  Because anything that involves Texas is, of course, more important than anything else that might be happening anywhere else in the whole darn world, 'kay? We have Texas sized egos and we assume everyone wants to be a Texan,  If you don't share this sentiment, we'll just let you in on our favorite saying from Davy Crockett.

Aren't we sweet?  Texas Forever, y'all.



2.  If you didn't celebrate Texas, well, I'm sure you took a moment to celebrate Jon Bon Jovi's birthday which was also yesterday. You didn't?  Then please take a moment to re-evaluate your life.  This morning I'm feeling a little bit like I cheated on Jon because last night Nancy and her Real Daughters and I went to see Maroon 5 at the Verizon Center and I was a little bit squeal-y and might have conducted myself like an infatuated teenager.  (1/10th of the behavior I display at BonJovi by the way.)  You might recall, if you've been here for awhile, my writing about the last time I saw Bon Jovi at the Verizon Center . It was on my "Best Day of My Entire Life" list along with the four other times I've seen Bon Jovi when I screamed and cried and almost peed in my pants.  Oh, and along with when Texas beat USC in the National Championship on January 4, 2005 when I screamed and cried and almost peed in my pants.  And ok, yes, my wedding day, kids' births, blah, blah, blah.  It's possible there was screaming, crying and almost peeing in my pants those days, too. Whatever.  Happy Day to you, JBJ.

3.  It is highly likely that my kids are getting really dumb due to all the school cancellations, but I'll have you know that if we could find a TV/Movie Trivia competition to enter, it will be JACKPOT CITY in Skinner World.  Joe has not completed reading Orwell's 1984, but has finished all seasons of The Office.  Kyle and I watched a bit of Walker, Texas Ranger and then he watched a Jaws Marathon Sunday and Monday.  I joined in for the end of Jaws 3.  Dennis Quaid is in Jaws 3, as are Lea Thompson and Louis Gossett, Jr.  You're welcome to keep that information in your back pocket the next time you play Trivia Crack. 

This is the end shot of Jaws 3.  Sandy and Cindy are like two Vegas Show Girl Dolphins at Sea World.  We are certain that Jaws has eaten Sandy for an afternoon snack.  (or maybe it was Cindy.  I'm sure they have unique personalities, but darn it, are they hard to tell apart.) At the end Dennis Quaid and Bess Armstrong are frantically searching for Sandy when lo and behold Sandy leaps up out of the water nailing a perfect full 360 twist. All is well, as Sandy and Cindy are back together while the sun is setting over Sea World.  Bess Armstrong raises her hands in victory blocking Dennis Quaid's face from the view of future movie directors which is likely why he went on to have a successful career. At this point Kyle and I burst out laughing because it is the dumbest thing we've ever seen and that's saying a lot because we've been watching some pretty dumb stuff lately.

I think it's pretty safe to assume that Spielberg was NOT involved in the making of Jaws 3.

3.  This is what I have to say about Adam Levine:  "Dear God, That was a mighty work you did on that one."  Of course with the face and the talent and whatnot.  But did y'all see this?  This little boy who has Down Syndrome loves Maroon 5 and he was able to go to the concert last night and meet the band.  Apparently, he got really nervous and had to lay down, so Adam and the whole band said, "No problem, we'll just get down on the floor with him."  Can you stand it??  God makes good people.  Good regular people and good crazy-talented-beautiful-rock star people.

4.  Speaking of good people, Kyle's Kamp's 4th Casino Night was a huge success.  We raised a lot of money for pediatric cancer.  But, one of my favorite things about the night was seeing so many people just having a plain ol' good time.  Kyle's Kamp deals with some serious, tragic horrible things.  And I think God absolutely wants us to be aware and to walk into His hurting and broken world to be His hands and feet.  And the people that attended the event did exactly that.  They were generous and selfless and committed to the cause.  At the same time, I know that God wants us to find joy and to celebrate.  The Gospel of John reminds us of His want for us to have a life abundant:

"So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy." John 16;22

"I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." John 10:10b

The best part of Saturday night was seeing my friends who are grieving surrounded by love, support and laughter.  (and also, cupcakes.)  I also was so grateful to so many members of our baseball community and my family who cleaned up, dressed up and showed up.  Often times, our communication involves who is dropping off and who is picking up.  We wave and honk and smile at each other from windows as boys pile bat bags in our cars and we race off to make it to practice on time.  It was such fun to spend time with my fun, generous, joyful friends.  My people showed up for a very important cause because their hearts are so big and because of that, my heart is so full.

5.  I am going to list a fifth item because ending a list with four things just seems wrong.  So, you should know that I will have dinner ready for my family at 6:00 pm on the dot tonight because I am somethin' else and even though I got to bed at 1:00 am last night, I have already put country style pork ribs in the crock pot.  I just felt like I should tell you that, fine reader.  What do you think I do all day - just watch tv and write about Adam Levine and how handsome and talented he is and how I sang my lungs out to Sunday Morning and could have blown out a knee when dancing to Sugar alongside a couple of 15 year olds?  Well, I don't do that all day long.  I mean I have a house to run and a family to feed and children to raise into fine young men. I am a grown up married woman, for goodness sake.   

But look at him, y'all.

I would recommend a Maroon 5 concert.  Your husband will even have fun.  Mine didn't go.  When I told him that Adam Levine put on a great show.  He said, "Adam who?  Does he play any sports?"  I'm not sure if he was kidding.

Y'all have a good day.  I gotta family to raise and a mix tape to make for my husband.  Find joy, friends!.