I am Superwoman, hear me RRRRRWWWR.

      Welp, since the couple or so years ago that I started this shiznit, I've managed to average 5 or so posts a year.  The few people who would have read this in the first place, probably no longer even remember I'm, "in the business," as they say.  Who says that? you ask.  To be honest, no one does, but I thought it sounded like maybe I was famous or something.  Anywho.  In an effort to bulk up that average, I'm attempting to do an entry every week...or at least once a month, whichever tickles my fancy at the time. 

 Ahhh yes, on to today's "meat and potatoes," as they say.  Who says that?  (Must we do this again?)  Whilst wallowing in a fair amount of self pity last night, contemplating how absolutely poor of a housekeeper I am, (and no, not an actual housekeeper as in a maid, or one who gets paid to clean, but more like the KEEPER of the house) upon looking at my suitcase lying on our bedroom floor, still not unpacked from over a month ago, piled next to 3 weeks worth of yet to be folded clean clothes that have taken up permanent residence at the foot of the bed, I decided I was a minor failure.  My eyes started scanning the bathroom floor trying to remember when or IF I had ever even cleaned it since we moved in last June.  Let's be honest, you would remember if you had cleaned it, so NO, I had not...EVER.  Sure, I've wiped up hair that I am constantly shedding and swept and what not and what have you.  It's all been just a cursory look and sweep though. 

     Then, from the dirty floor, onto my failure at getting my child to eat the right foods: How did that marshmallow cereal even get in my cart, I mean come on, I usually buy organic whole wheat rolled oats with no sugar, vegan and gluten free, so how did that happen into my cart right next to the...who put those COOKIES there?!  Sure, we'd all love to buy everything organic, vegan, gluten schmuten free blah blah blah, but sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do, and eatin' right ain't easy or cheap lady..are you gonna come over and force feed my child every single day?!  I mean I'm all for starving your children if they won't eat what you put in front of them, but every person has their limits and sometimes it's just not a battle I'm willing to face at the moment, so let's just ring up the dang Lucky Charms and get SOMETHING in his tummy! Stop judging me!!!

      Onto too many logged hours of television lately. Can Nick Jr. REALLY be considered a babysitter?  I mean was it OK to sit back and let Dora and Diego teach and instruct my child while I got some stuff done...or didn't?   Purely a hypothetical scenario since pre-children I was a perfect mother and swore my children would NEVER do such a thing.  However, this side of children, I find Dora and Diego to almost be part of the family. 

     I began counting down the ways I was inadequate.  I mean come on, we all want our children to be the healthiest, happiest, kindest, best people we know.  We want better, no the BEST, versions of ourselves to extend to them, molding and shaping them into superheros that are kind to those left on the outskirts of life, loving to the unlovable and unreachable, brilliant little lights this world can't snuff out.  And yet, some days, maybe even MOST, you just want to fail them as little as possible.  That's not a morbid or morose way of looking at parenting, it's just the way it is, (unless I am alone here, in which case this is getting very awkward) the way life is when you have such a weighty responsibility coupled with an overshadowing love that can never be set down.  Each day is full of both major and minor victories and failures.  Small victories like getting your child to eat 3 peas may make you feel like Superwoman, while you may feel an overwhelming guilt for not letting him outside to play for 3 days in a row.

     Flying high from the inventory of my failures last night, that were negated by my successful Awesome Mom trip to the doctor, and handling both kids like a champ, I thought no better way to feel like a successful parent then to take a two yr. old and a 6 month old into a health and beauty store.  In we went to Ulta, obviously lovingly welcomed by the associate, as my 2 yr old paraded next to the stroller with my adorable, darling little girl, screaming her head off.  She NEVER does this, and yet she did.  Every time I say that, there will be 3 more times she tantrums in public, so I should stop saying she never does.  Leisurely, I BEELINED straight to the nail polish I was looking for.  We were there to make time, get in and get out my friend.  And of course, as was his custom, Eli was sending up all kinds of Hail Mary's, just grasping at anything and everything his little rat paws could get his hands on as we sped down the aisles to the polish.  I'm bobbin' and weavin', draggin' him along as he desperately attempts to wreak absolute havoc upon this South Charlotte store.  OH HELLS no, is what Brenda the associate was thinking as she eyed our little entourage.  At this point in the face of victory over failure, I ask UNhelpy helper for assistance so I can save us all and get the heck out of there.  Alas, twas not to be.  Brenda wouldn't know Lincoln Park After Dark from A Good ManDarin is Hard to Find, so I was on my own.

     I'm now sweating.  Korah is crying, nay, screaming, nay wailing.  Eli is well, Eli.  He is grabbing all the polish at waist to head level and just going for it.  I'm starting to have a panic attack.  Brenda is doing what she does best, not helping.  It's either laugh or cry or sweat.  I sweat.  I sweat buckets.  Then I snap.  I'm so snappy.  I need to get out of there.  NOW.  Oh Lord we are at the register, just get us out of here.  She is ringing us up.  Eli is ever so helpful pushing his wailing sibling into the rack to keep her quiet.  That WOULD be helpful if not for the slamming stuff into it and knocking stuff off.  I'm grabbing, dragging, and shoving now.  I don't know if I even brought the polish home, but dang it I paid for it!!!  And I did it.  I am out of that store and my armpits and forehead can settle down, along with my stress migraine.  We are in the car.  And I feel seriously successful at this moment.  Despite all the looks and obvious disapproval, I feel successful.  It's like I just went to battle and I came out alive.  All three of us are in the car, some with rug burns from being dragged across the carpet, some with pit stains, and some with spit-up all down her shirt from convulsing in public for so long, but we are there nevertheless.  I turn the radio up loud and belt out our favorite car ride song Your Love is Better Than Life ...

PS...We also love a little song we like to dance to called Dynamite, This is the Day the Lord has Made)

Manly Men

     So, today whilst doing really important things such as checking my facebook, obsessing over my obsession with One Tree Hill, and making lists so I can check things off, I suddenly tuned back into reality.  Ummm, and I mean the reality where I was the one "responsible" adult around the house who was supposed to be aware of people under 3 ft. and what they were doing and putting in their mouths.  My more dependable other half was gone helping friends move furniture and I was left to my own devices at home alone.


     The moment I tuned back in and realized I was not a 21 yr. old college student sitting in her dorm room eating pizza while watching marathons of Friends, not a care in the world, was when I heard a strange noise....a noise like a cap being taken off something and a slight suction sound.  As I was snapping back into focus, my subconscious kicked in, reminding that I had been hearing that sound the last 20 or so minutes on a fairly routine basis as my 2 yr. old had trotted back and forth from our bathroom.  It suddenly became apparent to me there were several exciting things he could be doing in the bathroom while I tended to my Peyton and Lucas dilemma.

      Curious to know the culprit calling his little white- haired self into the bathroom over and over again, I got up to investigate.  This is the moment I noticed my son had a strong inclination to good hygiene.  Pride overcame me as I watched what he was grabbing for in the drawer.  My son, my manly little boy, wisdom beyond his years...I was so proud.  Oh that is soooo cute. He had probably seen his daddy or me for that matter, putting it on.   He is growing up so fast.  I mean look at all they pick up and learn from just observing and listening. All these thoughts raced through my head in the millisecond it took me to realize he was not wearing the deodorant the way most do, the way one should.  As he grabbed my husband's deodorant, quickly taking off the lid (enter suction sound) he deftly with the ease and carelessness of one who knows what he is doing.... proceeded to lather up his lips.  I watched as he smeared it around and around as you would wear your chapstick.  He then turned the dial back down, replaced the lid very efficiently, set it back in said drawer, and shut it.  And with that, he was out of the bathroom and back to playing.  Nothing to see here folks....show's over, all in a day's work.


     Immediately and involuntarily, my mind started doing overtime.  Unbeknownst to me, it started cataloguing submerged memories from not only the previous 20 minutes, but the previous week, as it started occurring to me my sweet 2 yr. old had been smelling fairly manly all week.  I began backtracking subconsciously, only to find myself back to Tuesday when we had gone to Target and I had thought he really smelled like his father.  My how grown up you are, I remembered thinking as I put him in the shopping cart catching a whiff of something like aftershave, or as in this case apparently, men's deodorant, moonlighting as chapstick.  Sure enough, deep in my nostalgia of yesterweek, in comes my manly little man to grab his umpteenth coat of "chapstick," for the day.  Instead of perhaps calling poison control, or at least checking to see if any had been ingested, as one might,  I continued to watch once more.  He uses a very serious amount of lip protection I tell ya.  I was dying with laughter and scooped up my manly man and kissed him on his sweat -protected, moisturized, cologne-smelling mouth. 


     And for all those wondering, I did allow him to put his chapstick on his armpits.
 

Redeeming Korah

Blah, blah, blah, the last time I wrote ages ago, I blathered on honestly and openly about my feelings on my ultrasound. It was the discovery that I would be thrown to the wolves as a mother of a new baby girl, yada yada yada. And while all those feelings were very real at the time, I am, we are, constantly working out our salvation with fear and trembling...constantly allowing Jesus to redeem and renew our minds, growing on this journey He has set us on(as if He needs me to ALLOW Him haha). And with that constant redemption, renewal, and growth, I feel compelled to finally put pen to paper today, or as the case may be, finger to keyboard.

I recently, in fact so recent I still smell like jet fuel, returned from visiting my family in Michigan. And let me be the first to tell you about a voyage to my homeland.....it IS a voyage, a trek, a pilgrimage not for the faint of heart or weak in spirit. You must have nerves of steel and a stress level unreachable because whilst with my familia, you will be culture shocked, maxed out, bewildered, aghast, find yourself thinking you are in an alternate or parallel universe in which up is actually down and all things you once knew are completely backwards. You will be thinking you will wake up soon to find you are dreaming and still snuggled cozily in your bed......but YOU WILL BE WRONG.

I can't quite paint an accurate picture for the reader without detailing many a scenario that would either humiliate family members or mark me as a traitor due to familial lines being breached. I will however say, that while some of you might think you have an idea, you most likely don't. These are the things talk show episodes are made of, things you thought you only found in say, an episode of My Name is Earl, (which I've seen only clips of, but I believe it sets the stage for the sort of culture shock I am referring to) or perhaps a Jerry Springer catastrophe. So, I can't quite explain it or tell you everything without losing credibility as a human in order to gain validity as a writer. Alas, the former wins and you will just have to trust me on this.....most of you have never been around people like my family. Suffice it to say, (thank you Carey for the laugh on that word) a reality show could easily be based on my family that although there would certainly be some laughs, by no means would be a comedy.

My point to all this while difficult to find, is actually about my sweet baby girl....you know the one I last wrote about with angst and grief like some poor teenage girl who'd just had her heart ripped out by her one true love who up and decided Jennifer Dream Girl was actually where he'd find his high school happiness...Anywho grief, pure, unadulterated shoulder shaking, heart-wrenching, gut twisting grief. Hence the title of this post. I feel the need for redemption for my sweet one. Her mother let her down, although sincere and honest to the point of obscene, she let her down and I now intend to woman up and confess how absolutely off base I was. The good Lord with His absolutely perfect track record once again is showing me on this early road of girldom how wonderful a sweet little peanut can be. I am so in love with my Korah. I see such a pure Godly joy and sweetness in her little personality; it shines so brightly on her wide grinning little face, sometimes my breath catches. She is such sweetness personified that I have forgotten all my anguish and fears over mothering a little girl. I want to love, keep close, and speak truth over my little lady all the days of my life. I want her to grow in the ways and love of the Lord, pursuing Christ and His righteousness with all her heart. I see already at only 5 months what a little light she is and can't help but wonder what mountains her faith will move. She is a girl after her Father's heart and we speak this over her daily. Our prayer with each of our kids has been that they will have wisdom beyond their years, come to know the Lord at an early age, follow hard after Him, and that they would have the heart of the Father...their hearts breaking at what His breaks, and a righteous indignation at what His hates, loving in all things.

This renewal of my mind is from God Himself. I brought up the part about my family because I believe the recent trip and interaction was a part of the catalyst to my writing today, not the whole, but a part. The other part was my bible study gals last week, you know who you are. If you were tracking with me on my reference to my previous post literally months ago, you know my upbringing and my mother have/are playing a huge role in my previous feelings concerning 50% of the population, that is the female, more specifically, raising one. And while I don't exactly have the relationship with my mother or even desire it really, that many girls have, I now see that it can BE; it IS possible. And I intend to have just that with my daughter. I am shouting from the rooftops that I HAVE A DAUGHTER!! How exciting and how blessed am I!! Lord help me to cultivate the kind of relationship with each of my children, with my Korah specifically, that reflects your relationship with us. Help me to come beside her as her mother in a way I never experienced myself. I want to be a delight to my children.

I am redeeming Korah, both from my previous words and from the stigma some would attach to her name. In the Bible, we hear about Korah and his revolt against Moses, his wickedness toward the Lord, and ultimately, how he was swallowed up by the earth. I know the story. You don't have to look at me like you have a secret I don't know all you sword drill winners. I know you know your Bible, but 1. a lot of people don't so they will never know, and 2. I don't care smartypants. However, we also hear of the Sons of Korah in Psalm. I recently read about God being a God of second chances and how for whatever reason, when you read in Numbers about this whole debacle, you will notice Korah's children were not named in those swallowed up by the earth the way the two other men in the revolt's family were. While I'm not sure why they may have been spared, or even if the Psalm reference is to the same Korah for sure, it is neat to think of Korah's children, despite that kind of legacy he left them, going on to love and serve the Lord. And right or wrong, I like to think of it that way, drawing a parallel between my generation of family--my daughter and me, redefining what that mother/daughter relationship looks like this side of redemption, this side of something I never knew, but am being given a second chance to know. I love my daughter. I praise the Lord for her and ask for wisdom in guiding her in what it means to be a Godly woman in a world that screams against it. Lord, help me tread lightly and carefully this delicate line of parenting.