Attention: Blessings may be closer than they appear.

If I had to rank each day on a scale of difficulty, 1-10, with 10 being the type of day where I'd like to start chain smoking, yesterday was about a 12. As a whole, it wasn't like they formed a mob and rose up against me or anything, just a few things happened that nearly sent me over the edge. And, you should know, I'm not one that tarries particularly close to the edge. It really takes a lot.

It was cold, dark and rainy yesterday so we were stuck inside all day long. After half-a-day of this, the minions start getting restless and that's when trouble sometimes ensues. The baby (two-year-old) was all dreaming up sugar plums up in her bed; one child was watching a movie; one was parked at the kitchen table (coloring, I assumed); and the other was upstairs doing something, I don't know, blowing her nose for like 20 minutes. Since I appeared to have a break, I settled into my favorite couch with Pinterest open, some cozy pillows and a fall blend of oils diffusing to my left. All was well, I tell you. Then? The child who had been upstairs came down and says to me... "Mom, sprinkles are everywhere." I said, "ok, clean them up." Three minutes later, "mom, I can't." Odd from my quick-to-help child who LOVES to vacuum and sweep. I went in to inspect. 

The child who had been sitting quietly at the kitchen table somehow tossed? exploded? dropped? ...who knows... a bulk container of round sprinkles. My friends. In my almost eight-and-a-half years of mothering, I don't know if I have ever seen such a wide spread mess. Sprinkles filled every grout line, covered every tile, traveled to the next room and blanketed my yoga mat. Have mercy. To say there was a million of them was probably not much of an exaggeration. As we started vacuuming them up, the vacuum was spitting them back at me. I emptied the vacuum canister and, of course, spilled the contents of that back on the floor. Though annoyed, I remained pretty calm (I'm going to pin that on the oils I was diffusing...). About 45 minutes later, and one kid with peed-pants later, we got it mostly cleaned up though I don't doubt we will be finding sprinkles around for the next five years. 

I sent the kids upstairs to get socks and appropriate clothes on for dinner out and, in that time, they decided to get rowdy. And then I heard, "wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." The baby, who was dreaming every so fondly of sugar plums, was now awake...like an hour too early. I banished a kid to the couch and sent the other off to do chores while we waited on dad to get home - all cited with excessive noise violations during rest-time hours. Sigh. 

The rest of the evening was pretty status-quo. We had a couple of pre-bedtime meltdowns from kids who wanted ice cream and homemade cookies produced at 8:30pm. I wasn't about to get kids wired up again before I was home-free for the day. I sent the sprinkle-dropper upstairs to bed and I followed with her baby sister. After I had baby sister in bed, I went back downstairs to grab my computer and other things. I crawled into bed and settled in to Pinterest while waiting for everyone else to come up. When my husband came upstairs about 10 minutes later, I said..."have you seen #3 (sprinkle-dropper)?" He said, "No? Let me see where she is."

We couldn't find her. Anywhere. 

ANYWHERE. 

After we'd searched every hiding place in the house, we still couldn't find her. 

All of the worst things were going through my head now. We tore apart every bed. Threw open every drawer and closet door. Exploded every laundry pile. We yelled her name in every corner. Nothing. Not a sign. Not a trace. How could we lose a child in our house? We never heard any doors open, but could she have somehow gone outside? Surely she wouldn't go into the dark rainy abyss. I started feeling really sick and imagined someone taking off with her right from our home. What did the perp look like? What kind of car? What was she wearing? I wouldn't be able to explain any of it. I didn't know how we would explain this to the police, but I pictured the headlines and we have never been so close to calling them. 

Absolutely frantic, I went back into our bedroom and threw the covers off of our bed (where I was just laying moments before). 

This child. There she was, sleeping soundly - angelically even - fully covered in our blankets. 

She went upstairs and thought it would be fun get under our covers and hide so we'd be surprised to find her when we got into bed. Before we had a chance to find her, she fell asleep fully covered in blankets and had sunk in to the memory foam mattress a little, which is why I didn't notice her RIGHT NEXT TO ME as I laid in bed. Even my husband looked through our room three times and under the bed. We moved her, as she slept soundly never realizing that we almost called in the troops for her return. We praised JESUS over and over and over and I consider it a lesson learned. 

Sometimes our blessings come in ways unexpected, friends. Sometimes they are hard days and things that are there to teach us patience, mercy, forgiveness, etc. And, sometimes, they are right beside us and we get SO caught up in panic and mis-trust that we don't even notice them. I am STILL praising the Lord this morning that our child wasn't really missing. We are going to spend the morning doing some fun projects together and loving one another intentionally! 

Blessings are all around you, friends, and some may be unexpected and closer than you think. 

Keeping a Diary

For Christmas, our 7 year old desperately wanted a diary, with a lock. As much as I didn't want to get her one - because that means she's edging dangerously close to tween instead of my baby girl - I know how it is. We got her one anyway. I always kept a diary or journal of sorts. Looking back, the purpose of my journaling wasn't to devise a grand scheme against the universe or to conceal dark truths, I wrote as a way of organizing thoughts; planning; recording; reflecting. Those are all really good and constructive skills to have. Over the years, this very blog has acted as a journal of sorts and I'm thinking of adding a new (pictorial) chapter to it.


If you've been reading along with me a while now, you know I have a deep-seated struggle with using food as medication instead of nutrition. Some stress-inducing times ensued, recently, and I gained about 10lbs. I've come too far to do this and thankfully, I know how to turn this horse and buggy around. I'm not making any grandiose plans to cut dairy, gluten, wheat, fat, and all other sources of flavor. That's unreasonable for me. I do know how to eat clean and the two items below will help me do just that...

1.) Grace. The Lord is bigger than any burden I have and when I have that urge to binge, I need to conscientiously PRAY and nourish my body with scriptural truths instead of a pixie stick.

2.) Accountability. I do SO much better when I have enlisted accountability folks asking how things are going; who are positive influences; and who will encourage me to continue on the right path - even if I don't know them personally. It just helps to be part of a team. Accountability works! It's why things like Weight Watchers; Advocare; Beach Body; and My FitnessPal thrive! These apps and groups all encourage you to write what you bite and work through your diet and exercise routines with friends/coaches.

To me, eating well isn't just about being a few pounds lighter (anymore, anyways). It's about properly caring for what God gave me. When we choose to abuse our bodies with food, drugs, or alcohol, we are really just incinerating the temples that God built especially for us to do His work. I wouldn't burn a brick and mortar temple, would you? Why would we do that to our own bodies that were made for so much more than an inanimate building? We have work to do, believing friends, and we need to keep our minds and bodies healthy to do that work. 

Additionally, I'm not wasting my weaknesses. God gave me this weakness, sugar addiction; but, He also gave me a voice as a writer; I'm putting two and two together in hopes of reaching out to others. He casts light out of darkness - all. the. time.

SO, here's the next chapter. I created a Pinterest board called "food journal in pictures." I'm posting photos of every meal (I take photos of basically everything I eat anyway, ask anyone who follows me on social media). Please follow along for accountability AND for clean meal ideas. I'll be posting everything - good and bad - but hopefully there are mostly good things there and you can get some clean eating ideas as well. :) http://www.pinterest.com/dailyupsnpounds/food-journal-in-pictures/.

Wishing you all a very healthy new year!

Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, - I Cor 6:19 (ESV). 

Because you don't read about poop enough on my blog...

Before I get to that, I must tell you something. I have no idea why I can't write these days. It's like I go through periods of time when my creativity bottoms out and God is saying, just be quiet and listen. Stop writing; stop talking; stop brainstorming. Just listen. I do enjoy listening, but I enjoy storytelling, too. So, I suppose I should be blessed by the balance and not being overwhelmed in any one area all the time.

Alas, all my accident-prone friends will appreciate this next story. My photog friends will appreciate it; anyone who's ever chased kids will appreciate it. Anyone who has OCD, even just a little, guaranteed to appreciate it. So, part of this little obnoxious OCD battle that goes on in my head includes, sometimes going to crazy measures to make sure I won't get sick by way of contamination. With that said, the very sight of bird poop makes me cringe (filthy gross birds). And, therefore, I sometimes literally leap away from animal droppings. I'd rather sit on cold concrete or stand for a few hours than sit on a chair that's been graced by a bird. Anyway. The other day I was traipsing through an outdoor area, taking some family photos. I was just on a mission to rock out some great shots before the sun went down and not really paying attention to where I was walking.

All of the sudden, one of the family members says to me (with crinkled nose), "Do you smell poop? I smell poop." I sniff the air few times. "Nope, I don't smell anything." (because changing about 87,562 diapers in my life has made me immune to the smell of feces). Family member #2. "Yeah, I totally smell poop. Check your shoes, everyone." 

Right shoe, clear. 

Left shoe, completely and fully defiled with excrements from someone's dog. 

Now. WHO let's their dog poop on a walking path!?!? Come on, people of the world. The little blue poop bags you carry around the neighborhood to show everyone you're doing your civic duty by picking up dog crap also (and especially) work on paths, too. 

Come on. My shoes were nearing their end-days anyway; I threw them in a trash bag never to be seen again and went in to Jimmy John's to console myself with an Unwich and some chips - wearing my husband's shoes. 

No shame. 

Grossed out.

Use your poop bags, people.

PS. It wasn't my client's dog who left the deposit.

Let's talk about independence (from gluttony).

As you're all aware (hopefully), yesterday was a widely celebrated American holiday. We celebrated in all of the traditional ways, of course, and talked with our kids about the importance of Independence Day and what it means to our country.

As I was thinking on the topic of independence and holidays, though, I realized something. I've never had independence from bad eating habits on holidays. In fact, I usually use holidays as a reason to eat whatever and however much I want. I can remember doing this, always. Even as a little child, I can remember going back to the food table at my grandparents' house on Christmas Eve and Easter - filling my plate with cheese cubes, dinner rolls, and summer sausage three or four times, one (or maybe even two) of each dessert that was at the table, handfuls of chocolate from the candy dish all night, then grazing the table for the rest of the night. One time, years later, I had a gallbladder attack that left me in excruciating pain - all because I didn't want to miss a bite of the good Christmas food spread.

I've done this (though not as much and not to such a severe degree) even since I started clean eating last fall. Yesterday, though all of the red, white, and blue Pinterest treats looked super tempting, I decided to stick with the program. (I've decided they need a Pinterest Lite for those of us watching what we eat, no?) I weighed in yesterday morning and saw a loss of more than three pounds; I decided that having INDEPENDANCE from food addiction, from sugar, from associating food with happiness, was much more important than indulging in some unwise food choices for momentary happiness. Choices that would surely put me further from my goal.

Let me tell you, that kind of independence feels good. In no way was I deprived with our Fourth of July spread. I made DELICIOUS and responsible food choices. I may have gone over my target caloric intake a little, but it was very close and I felt totally under control, not letting food control me for once! Here's what went on:

For dinner:

• A bun-less cheeseburger made with lean beef.
• Sweet potato fries (just potatoes, oil and sea salt) that I counted out to ensure the proper serving size.
• Fruit salad. 
• Veggies, steamed with grape seed oil (which I measured) and sea salt.

I allowed myself a modest ice cream cone for dessert and planned my calories accordingly. This was an un-clean choice, but I felt it was okay because 99% of the day was CLEAN eating and I had one cone, not a humongous sundae with three scoops and twelve toppings.

Seems like a pretty delicious and celebratory feast, eh? So, now that we've celebrated the Independence of our country, here's to independence from food addiction as well. One meal at a time, we can break the cycle. 

Nine years? Really?

Guess what, guys, yesterday the hubs and I celebrated our nine-year wedding anniversary. NINE. I realize it's not a golden or silver year or anything, but, darn it. Nine years sounds like a whole heckofalot more than eight. Amen? Last night we gorged ourselves with Chicken Bellagio and Red Velvet Cheesecake on our first child-free date in a year, while recalling the past few years of life together.

Me: "Nine years? What the heck happened?"
Hubs: "We blinked."
Me: "Yeah. Yeah, that must be it."

I mean...when you have four children, two houses, a slew of jobs, about twenty-five cars and then start your own businesses whilst digging in your heels to make it all sync up, time has a way of passing quickly. Very quickly.

Though the years have seemingly escaped us without notice, I can look back and see where we've grown and learned a lot in that time. Following six years of dating - including 10 months of engagement - we got married at age 22. After dating someone for six years, you kind of figure the expectations for marriage and doing life together will be clear. Smooth sailing, right?

Guess what.

There's still plenty to learn, and screw up. In fact, I can only speak for myself here, but I've learned more about marriage in years seven and eight than all those preceded. How? I took my focal point off of the world's expectations and locked it in on Christ, and what he expects from me as HIS daughter and my husband's wife and my kids' mom. I've been taking more Bible time, more prayer time, more praise time, and more repentance time. As my daughter's very wise kindergarten teacher told her at the end of the school year, "if you don't read your Bible, you won't grow." So simple, so true.

It's only through Christ's infallible grace and lordship that we can show selflessness, love, submissiveness, tenderheartedness, a quiet spirit and joy in all things (good and bad) to our husbands, ladies. These things don't come naturally to our crooked hearts. Our innate rottenness can be overcome by Him and we can be made new! It's only through grace that we can realize contentment and joy when things don't go our way, and also when they do. It's only through grace that we can realize our husbands are imperfect beings, such as ourselves, and not put on earth to be our saviors, our little gods. It's only through grace that our marriages can grow and prosper and that we can realize what a blessing each day is, knowing that we are never promised our next breath. The finest blessing yet, though, is to realize that none of this depends on OUR ability in this fallen world; Christ is sovereign and in all things, He is good, very good, and we must trust in Him.

Verses to reflect on:

• Proverbs 31
• I Cor 13
• Proverbs 12:4
• Ephesians 5:22-23

Still working on my PhD, at the School of Hard Knocks!!

You guys, I've told you about my anxiety problems and how I hate feeling out of control. My word. Yesterday was off-the-hook out of control, it seemed!

After dropping our daughter off at school, I scratched the side of my nose and you'd think someone stabbed me in the face. Blood everywhere and no tissue or paper towel to be found. Within twenty or so minutes of being home, I found our downstairs toilet clogged (and getting with in 10ft of a toilet plunger is NOT something an OCD-prone person wants to do - GROSS!). After unclogging the toilet, I got dressed in a hurry and rushed out the door to pass out yard sale flyers with a friend. She was taking care of some extra littles yesterday, but we decided an outing would be an adventure. We took eight littles, ages five and under, around the neighborhood, to stuff yard sale flyers in 80+ mailboxes. This is the point when I was wishing I knew some pre-school teacher tricks. Pre-school teachers are amazing and always know how to control an army of little people in any situation. Winds were gusting, flyers were flying through the air and I was chasing them (with a baby riding on my back) while my friend kept the other littles in line. Despite all of the variables stacked against our situation - it turned out well and only a few neighbors stared.

When we returned home, I began cleaning and managed to knock my head (hard) on the corner of a table. A little while later, we sat down to have a late lunch and relax a moment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the wind catch our outdoor umbrella and launch our heavy metal patio table (and six metal chairs) through the air, only to watch it all crash down the stairs of our deck. Glass everywhere and the table is a lost cause. It's always something, right? We'll be finding that glass forever. About 2pm, I realized my pants were on backwards and had been all day. I thought to myself, "it figures." And proceded with my cleaning (without fixing my pants - you know, what did it really matter at this point?). 

The rest of the afternoon seemed to be going well. The two big kids were resting, our oldest was playing at her friend's house and the baby was napping happily upstairs. I decided to take advantage of the quiet time and bake some (clean) cookies. As they were cooling, the cooling rack decided to hop off the counter - cookies and melted chocolate all over the kitchen floor. Awesome. I needed to mop anyway, right? Right. That mess was all cleaned up and it was about time for our company to come for dinner. I opened the oven door to put our salmon in when I saw something unexpected - the last batch of cookies was still in the oven. And, I'd totally burnt the tar out of them re-baked them. So, half a dozen cookies were sacrificed by the cooling rack and the others were turned to stone due to my negligence. Ok, we don't need sweets anyway. Next?

About twenty minutes later, I opened the oven door to take the salmon out. Guess what? Our not-so-cheap stoneware pan was completely split in two. OY! At least the fish was ok, but our poor pan!! We ate our dinner and had a great time with our friends without further incident. Around 9:30, the kids were all settled into bed and just as I felt that you-made-it-through-another-day feeling, I heard the cough. You know, the one that procedes you-know-what... That's right, a kid threw up (a bunch). And, in addition, the baby woke up with a fever (and then woke up again and again and again and again and peed all over me, through her PJs, when her diaper decided to leak sometime around 2 a.m.). We both got a wardrobe change and then went back to bed.

This morning, so far so good. And, you know what...it's all ok. Many, many things happened that were out of my control yesterday. I couldn't stop pans from busting, kids from vomiting, or the winds from gusting - but God ordained it all, and for that we're blessed and can be joyful still knowing that He is sovereign in everything! Amidst the craziness of yesterday, I was able to capture the picture of two of our daughters (right) and was reminded of how blessed we (all) are by little, every day moments and getting to realize the joy of those moments. Sometimes when everything seems to be going wrong, we need to look around and praise God for all the things that really do go right, and often un-noticed.

Humble pie, anyone?

It seems like humble pie is being served every where I go lately. I'm not complaining; I'm getting used to the taste, actually. If you've been reading this blog a while, you might remember that a month or two ago, one of my littles threw up at the grocery store, in the main aisle, repeatedly. I'm not talkin' about no baby spit up either, people. This was the full-fledged "if-you-weren't-in-the-sorority-of-moms-before-you-are-now" stuff. Make sense? Well, the kiddos were at it again over the weekend. If you are bothered by toilet talk, you can just go ahead and click-out now and I'll see you on the next post. If you're okay with it, here's the latest character-builder.

My husband was meeting with some customers at the end of the day and I still had an errand or two to run. To make good use of our time, I dropped him off and decided to take all four littles into the family bookstore to pick up a children's bible for our friends who were having their littles dedicated in church the next day. Four kids, bookstore, no problem. Right? They're well-behaved, right? No big deal. What can go wrong?

We made it from the car to the store with no problem (first major obstacle cleared). Our oldest was managing the middle two for me just fine while I searched for the book I was looking for. I found the book in about 60 seconds and we really should have checked out and ran could have left then, but my inner book-hoarder took over and I just couldn't seem to get us out of there. I meandered through the store some more and the littles started getting restless. I think they brought me about 476 different books to ask, "mom, can we get this?!?" Once I saw that we were re-arranging just about every shelf in the store, I started to look a little faster. I had this sudden idea to pick up a small purse-size Bible for myself, but had trouble finding the translation I wanted. During this time, I've managed to say "yes" to about four books for my early-reader (I mean, who can turn down a child who's developing a love for reading??). Meanwhile, the baby is jumping around like a feral beast slipping out the bottom of her Ring Sling that I somehow managed to put on all twisted. So, I put the baby on the floor of the bookstore, un-thread the sling, re-thread the sling, put it on, sling her up and we move on. Finally I get my Bible and want to check just one more thing. As I'm checking, I hear the five-year-old say to the three-year-old, "you smell like poop." Of course she does; to the registers we go.

After I tell the kiddos to stay in line with me four or five times while some stranger-lady behind me is stroking the baby's hands and feet, we're finally up to the front. The cashier rings us up (of course, I've over spent already and they want to know if I want my Bible cover personalized). I mean, I already have four children jumping about - one of which smells like poop - of course I want it personalized. Now I've spent six more dollars and have to wait 10 more minutes for them to stamp the cover. I take all of the children out to the car in hopes of freshening the one up. I get the non-stinky three back in their seats and start to change the poopy one. Sadly, I managed to drag the mess out of the Pull-Up all the way up her back. Weeeee! I had to give her a bath with wipes and, THANKFULLY, I had a another clean outfit for her in the car. Once she was all fixed up, my five year old (boy) has to pee. This is the kid that pees like twice a day and, of course, it's an emergency this time. There's no way I'm taking all of these children in a public restroom. I'm just not doing it. I let him go next to the car in the parking lot (completely shielded, of course). During this time, he manages to pee on my foot.

Awesome.

I get them all back in the store to get my personalized Bible (all of the employees are turning to stare at me...) and we take off to pick up my hubs and get to the next place. At least we all made it out alive, right?!

Oh, and that Bible I went in to get for my friend? The one that I made the trip for? Yeah, she got the same one from the church the next morning.

You know. I'm going to take this as a lesson in patience, humility, and remembering that God ordains all of our moments - even the crazy ones. I could totally ask God why he sent me on a rat race through a busy store with a poopy child only to get peed on and find out my friend already has the book I went in there for. Alas, I know he has greater reasons than I could ever fathom. And, that's totally fine with me.

What are you going to do with your life?

You know the career assessments, from high school, that help you determine what to do with your life? Yeah. I loved those. I loved thinking about the possibilities of all the things I could do and how I was going to do them. Though I had some ideas, there really wasn't one particular profession or field I thought I'd be in. I knew I wanted to get married, have kids, write and help people. Those assessments always alluded to options that included me writing/teaching/helping people, but I had no idea how these things would play together in real life. I went through college and got a BA in English (professional writing) then took the first job that came to me as a technical writing intern; then, soon after, that internship got me a full-time job working for a financial management company. Let me tell you something. I got Cs and Ds (D = diploma, right?) in high school math. I am not a numbers person.  I really didn't belong in a company with a financial focus, regardless of what I was doing there. It's like foreign matter to me, y'all.

After having our first baby I found it really, really hard (okay, anxiety made it impossible) to travel (only day trips 50-100 miles away) for work, which was required by my position at the financial place. Pretty soon, I transitioned into another position with the same company - not requiring travel or number crunching - and that lasted a few months before I moved on totally. My momdar was on high alert and I just couldn't be so far away from my baby. To prove it, I even got pulled over on the way home from my last day of work. I just couldn't wait a second longer to get back to my little one and start soul searching again.

I felt perplexed and uncertain on who the new "me" was going to be. I was on this "what am I going to do with my (professional) life" quest. Even though I already had a degree (I've loved writing since I could hold a pencil - that should have been a clue), I decided to become a licensed realtor. Because, you know, what was I really going to do with writing? Like, in real life. Heh.

When I was 75% done with the classes I found out I was pregnant with #2 and the Lord literally stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't keep my eyes open (due to first trimester sleepies) through the Real Estate Law class. I just couldn't. I quit and didn't finish the classes.

A couple years later, I found myself enrolled in a masters program for Business Counseling. Guess what - pregnant again. SURPRISE! I knew I couldn't devote enough energy to either my kids (or my job) or the masters program to make it through. I quit before the first class even started.

I promise, I'm not really a quitter - look at my baking!!

Finally, I took another position that I thought would be the winner. As it turns out, that wasn't it either.  In fact, I was more frustrated than ever - until the Lord spoke right in my ear. You know those kids I wanted? Yeah, they are the ones that needed my time and labor. I had been looking to define myself by a career path, not by my identity in Christ. He was piecing it together for me and I was flat out ignoring Him until this point. Collectively, my husband and I listened and agreed that the best place for me to be was home - helping him with our business and taking care of our home and children. And, right before I quit my last job I got another sign - baby #4 was coming.

With all that said, I looked high and low for my calling, but God had been sending me the signals (two pink lines at a time) all along. I'm so happy to be home with these children and so content to know I'm doing the job God made for me and trust Him that it's right. I love taking care of our family each day. It's a 24 hour a day, 7 day a week job filled with laundry, diapers, messes, homework, laughter, coloring, toy cars, bubbles and baby dolls. There's no bi-weekly pay, vacation days or 401k, but the rewards are infinite and I get to write about it all along the way.

So, my high school career assessment was right after all, who knew.

Get out of that funk and in the word!

You know, I'm generally a pretty happy person. I'm one of those irritating folks that wakes up happy and can run on about 30 seconds of sleep a day for many days straight without wigging out. One day last week, though, I felt the grouch coming on. I was getting a little cabin fever, fed up that it's still freaking freezing here, irritated that we still have to wear socks and coats every time we go outside and that the kids and I have had one illness after the other for the last six weeks. Six weeks, not exaggerating. By the end of the day, I was tired of being cranky and tired of myself. Just being honest, you know.

I knew I couldn't wake up in the same rare-form again the next day; so, I prescribed myself some Bible time, then early to bed. Sometimes we're like little kids that don't want to take our medicine, you know? It can be a struggle to sit down and take it when we need it most, but the Word of God is full of truths that make us well again - emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Followers of Christ know this, but often resist. I can think of other times when I felt anxious or agitated and, of course, the ultimate answer was seeking counsel through prayer or just studying the Word. It works every. single. time. Soooo...now that I'm getting older wiser, I think I'll start taking more "preventative medicine" and getting serious about seeking opportunities to soak in the word, and share it all throughout the day. I truly think surrounding ourselves with the word makes for a better day, everyday. I know what you're thinking - "I have a dozen children to chase, how can I get more Bible time?" or "I work 12hrs a day, I can't even see straight by the end of a shift!" 

Here are a couple ways to get into the Word other than just scheduling time to do it (though that's a great idea, too):

• Keep Bibles all around. How about the car (when you're a passenger - don't read and drive); the family room; your desk at work; the kitchen table; your night stand; an e-version on your phone, iPad, or iPod; or in the bathroom (don't act like you don't read in there!).
• Download Devotional apps. I like the John Piper (Desiring God) and Ravi Zacharias (RZIM) apps.
• Read Devotional books. I'm currently into Breaking Free by Beth Moore (love her!); I hope to follow that with Basic Christianity by John Stott. You can pick up scripture there and get some application, as well.
• Get audio versions. Bible, sermons, or books - there's audio versions abound. You can put your earbuds in and listen away. Great for passing time walking the dreadmill!

And, finally, I think it's always important to pray about what you're reading. Ask God to show you how His Word is relevant in your life and how you can use it to glorify Him. 

Hebrews 4:12 ~ "For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart."

Yes, we are crazy. Crazy blessed.

Nine years ago, when I was getting ready to graduate from college and get married, I thought about all the darling business casual outfits I could buy with my first paycheck. I was going to be spending a lot of time with Ann Taylor, for sure! Looking back, I realize how much has changed in that short amount of time.

Just this afternoon I lifted our 7 month old's rear-end up to my face to see if her lunch had come through the other end yet. As I wrinkled my nose at another dirty diaper, she laughed hysterically (apparently it's funny when someone else smells your butt) and I noticed the spit-up I was wearing on my sleeve, and on my yoga pants (not from Ann Taylor - btw), and probably somewhere else I haven't seen yet. Instead of being repulsed at the dirty diaper smell lingering in my nostrils or the baby barf decorating my Old Navy thermal, I hugged on the baby, kissed her face, laughed with her and pondered the awesomeness and unpredictability of God's plan for our lives. All of our lives.

I smiled at the thought...the thought that nine years ago, I would have never told you I'd be smelling butts and wearing regurgitated breast milk, pears and apples for a living. I could have never told you that I could survive on a few hours sleep many nights in a row, commit myself to a never-ending pile of laundry, scrub dishes three times a day only to turn around and have another pile ready first thing in the morning, or have such a close relationship with my crockpot.

I also could have never told you what an incredible blessing all that is.

We knew we wanted babies, but we could have never told you that beyond the baby shower, it ain't all rosy, kids. It's a lot of work. It's a lot of sacrifice. It's a lot of germs, laundry, meltdowns in public (don't act like your kids haven't done it), butts smelled, noses wiped, toddlers chased and dirty diapers disposed of.

It's also a lot of love, comfort, and joy and a million other lovely things and feelings.

No matter what stage of life you have children - young or old, planned or unplanned - they are an absolute miracle and they will change your life beyond anything you could possibly imagine or plan. I think that one of Christ's biggest lessons in humility is given to us through raising our children. I also think that He uses these children to refine our hearts and build our character; to teach us to love selflessly and to give effortlessly. He shows us so much sacrificial love and so we also love our children sacrificially, like Christ.

When we tell people about our flock, they often call us crazy. I am going to close by telling you that I agree. Yes, we are crazy. Crazy blessed.

I've been spared!

You guys. Even the cleanest of eaters and the most reformed sugar addicts have trouble with Christmasy goodies, right?! Please tell me yes. So far, I've made it through Halloween, Thanksgiving, and the following weeks without gaining weight (and continuing to lose). However, I've been baking for Christmas parties/gifts lately and somewhat losing my mind in the process. Allow me to elaborate.

On Sunday, my mom made some darling sugar cut-out cookies. Of course, I'm lost in the nostalgia - remembering how those were my favorite as a little child. I can remember picking out all of the star cookies, iced in yellow and blue, made by my Uncle Tony and Aunt Diane. They were always my favorite cookie. Fast-forward to Monday. I really wanted some buckeyes - another family favorite. However...the bowl to my stand-mixer was in the dishwasher and I didn't feel like washing it. So, I make no-bakes. I ate four....and ate the remnants stuck to the side of the mixing bowl. Sigh. The next day, I decided to make chocolate dipped pretzel rods as part of my daughter's teacher gift. I've blogged before about what crappy baker I am. So, let's just say there were about half a dozen "test pretzels." What do you do with ugly baked goods, you ask? You eat them before anyone else sees them, OF COURSE! So, after I mindlessly ate the pretzel rods (then ran one of the no-bakes through the melted white chocolate AND ate an additional no-bake AND about four spoonfuls of melted chocolate and a handful of sprinkles), I felt really bad. I immediately tattled on myself to my husband, who hugged me and said I'd be ok. I told you I was a binge-eater, right?! Apparently, old habits die hard. Not that it's a game-changer, but to add to my downward spiral, I ate white rice, (oh, the horror), two days in a row.

I felt sick to my stomach. Pretty defeated. Pretty irritated for eating all that. I really wanted to avoid the scale this morning. I didn't want to see that nasty higher number staring back at me. However, I remembered that that's how I got into this predicament in the first place. So, I stepped on the scale.

-.6. I'm at my lowest weight yet on this journey - down a total of 31ish pounds. 

Seriously? I lost weight after a few days of destructive eating? THANK YOU, LORD!!!! I'm taking this as a second-chance. I've been spared. I'm committing to NO MORE BAKED GOODS until we're actually at a Christmas event. That means so test-bites, no licking beaters, no eating random sprinkles off the counter. After-all, I think holiday weight-gain really comes from leftovers anyway. No one gains 12lbs in a day, but eating that delicious crap day-after-day will certainly do it to you (as it's done to me year after year).

So, I will continue to avoid leftovers and will boycott the baked goods for now. Who's with me?

It's that time again...

To get serious about losing baby weight. I say "baby weight" like my little babies (who averaged about 7.5 lbs each) caused me to gain 40-60lbs a pop. They totally didn't. My over-indulgent, "I'm pregnant, I eat what I want" attitude did it. My anxiety, that also added a pound or fifty. And, while all those cupcakes, milkshakes, french fries, candy bars, potpies, and cans of ravioli were the best thing ever while I was preggo, now I have to work it off. The truth is, I lost the weight that came with all my babies, now I just have to work on that extra donut and milkshake weight and some pre-baby junk food weight. I know you know what I'm talking about.

So, I know you want to know the damage. I have 50lbs (or so) to lose. Now, the thought of losing that much weight (with four kids) was a little overwhelming to me at first, too. I mean, our schedule here changes every day (which means I can't really have a workout schedule either). I also haven't left the baby yet, and I don't want to. SO, that means I can't go to the gym. It's has also been hot outside for the last couple months in addition to the fact that I'm not a huge fan of outside; so, it's not like I'm super motivated to go walking/running and I can't do that in my house. I spent the last few weeks stacking up all of these can't statements and they started turning ugly; they started turning into a big fat don't want to.

I devised an alternative plan (that should work for anyone should you be in the same situation) and I started it. Because others have told me it's been helpful in the past, I'm going to be blogging my journey to be fit, not fat. It will also give me some check-in accountability to keep going. I have worked off all my baby weight in the past, so I *think* I know what I'm doing. If you have tips though, tell me! I love new ideas.

1. I put my maternity clothes away. You know; If I can't reach for my clothes that expand at the waist, I have a little more motivation to lose weight. No one likes ill fitting clothes. No one.
2. I hooked up my HR Monitor/Calorie Counter. By tracking my calories burned, I can regulate the intensity of my workout based on how many calories I want to be burning. It makes for a  much more effective workout. Everyone has questions about this super awesome device. Here's a whole blog post about it to answer your questions. If you have more, just ask!
3. I dusted off some DVDs. Just because I can't go to the gym, that's not an excuse to skip working out. It's ALSO not an excuse to do workouts that I hate (like sit-ups and crunches, etc). I LOVE the Beach Body DVDs (Turbo Fire and Turbo Jam). They are just like the classes I'd do at the gym, if I were there. My best advice to you, find what you like. If you love kickboxing, yoga, pilates, zumba or anything else, there's likely a DVD for it. Or, if you like running the track, go run outside! The weather is great most places this time of year. Check your local library, too. I hear they usually have lots of great fitness DVDs.
4. Finding a workout buddy. Ok, I know what you're thinking. "If I can't find time, myself, to workout, how will I ever sync up with someone else's schedule, too?" You don't have to workout together, just exchange texts, emails, Facebook wall posts, tweets, or whatever to stay motivated and accountable. I know you can do that! I have a couple of these peeps to keep me in line and I'm SUPER thankful. 
5. Taking some before photos. I don't go through the trouble of measuring myself and stepping on the scale at every second because, quite frankly, I don't care about numbers. I want my clothes to fit and I want to move comfortably. I want to see the difference. So, I take before and after photos (one of my favorite Pinterest searches, too, btw). I'll post them here, on a new page within the blog, once I've made some progress.
6. Changing my diet...I was looking through the 2,800 photos on my phone earlier today. I would say a good 2,600 of those are of food. Cake, cookies, snacks, drinks, fries, candy, etc. I'm hoping that the upcoming food pics will be of things like: fresh fruit and veggies, peanut butter, small pieces of dark chocolate, bubbly seltzer water, chicken, salad, eggs, and other delicious good-for-you treats. Now, don't do anything extreme. Don't pickup a yo-yo diet. Figure out how many calories you need to safely lose weight, and eat that many each day (by way of healthy foods that you enjoy).
7. You know that ________ (treadmill, elliptical, bike, weight set, etc.) that you had to have? Go use it. It's not doing you any good just collecting dust. Make time to go use it. That's what I'm doing with the elliptical machine. Find about 30 minutes of your favorite music and make a playlist; once you listen to all of it one time through, your workout will be over. You're welcome.
8. Be as consistent as possible. Maybe, like me, you can't workout at exactly 7am everyday and you can't eat like a bunny everyday either (because sometimes, picking up a bucket of chicken is just what happens to busy families). Don't sweat the minor misses, focus on the big picture. Keep  your focus every day; make goals and try your best to keep them. Don't be hard on yourself, but don't let one day off your diet turn into weeks, either. 

That's all I have for right now! I promise this blog isn't turning into a a sob-fest about all the weight I have to lose, but I'm hoping that these weight-loss journey stories will be helpful to you. My posts about faith, family, and other stuff will all still be here. After-all, this blog isn't about me. It's about everything in this precious world and how it all works together, by grace. Fatness and fitness included. God has a reason for all of it. :)

Blessed with insomnia.

Ok, I know that sounds weird. And, often, the weirdest of weird blog ideas are born near midnight. However, I think this may lead to a point, so stick with me...

I'm still awake, recounting the day in my head and enjoying a little quiet time while my family sleeps. This is a much-needed unwinding time for me now as it's just been non-stop all day. I got to thinking, though, about a time when my sleeplessness was much less enjoyable. I had insomnia for quite a long time. For many months, I basically had two options: go to bed at 10pm and get up at 2am, or go to bed at 2am and get up at 6am with the rest of the world. At the time, I made jokes about how insomnia made me more productive because I truly did have more hours in the day. However, in all honesty, it became frustrating after a while.

I didn't know what was causing it. I couldn't stop it. I had a job to wake up and go to as well as kids and a husband that needed my full attention. I just wanted to go to bed and sleep like a normal human being. Looking back, I should have looked at those extra waking hours as a blessing. I could have used the time to be in prayer. I could have used those hours to bask in the Word. Instead, I used them to feel sorry for myself and to mumble frustrations about not being able to sleep. I should have looked to the Lord for relief - not to say that He would have given me a full 8hrs a night then and there - but at least I would have had that feeling of "rest" in Him.

Insomnia can be incredibly frustrating, I won't argue that. Though I didn't get it then, I'm thankful to get it now. If you're going through it, don't look at it as a punishment or a problem. Look it as extra time you get to spend praying to God and as a time to spend in the Word. Time to practice obedience and time to worship. Everything is indeed for His glory, even those extra waking hours that we may not desperately want.

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^{This post is listed on the Time Warp Wife's Titus2sday blog link-up. Please head over to Darlene's site to check out all of the awesome blogs linked up today!}

It's heel-acious!

I'm issuing a disclaimer up front; if you're grossed out by feet, you probably want to go read someone else's blog today and check back tomorrow because we're talking about icky, dry, cracked, heels here today.

So, I'll tell you this, I don't spend a lot any time looking at other people's feet or even my own really. I've been known to keep my summer toenail paint-job on through the winter and into the next spring. I'm not talking about a salon pedicure either; I mean a 45 second paint job done on my way out the door to somewhere where people might actually look at/judge my toes.  Something about my feet has been a little troublesome lately, though. My heels were getting super dry and cracked; I figured it was just something that came with the territory of sandal-wearing and barefoot walking in the summer and that I'd have to wait it out. It's not like I can actually reach my feet right now to moisturize them anyway.

The other day, though, it was a miserable 90-something degrees outside; my ankles were SUPER swollen and my feet were killing me; while I couldn't do much about that, I decided the dry skin was one irritation I could take probably care of. I went to Target and bought a heel sander without doing any prior Googling, of course, to see how I could best cure my rhino-skin feet (that's gross, I know). I ripped open the sander as soon as I got home and took care of that gross dry skin! My brute-force method did work, but since then I found a pretty sweet tutorial online that I think I'm going to try next time. Check it out here! Turns out I'm not the only one with icky summer feet!

So, people, I'm so happy about my soft(er) feet that it almost makes me want to paint my toenails more than once a summer!! If you have a case of sandal-foot, check out the tutorial. You'll be glad you did. :)

A haircut, followed by a spiritual lesson.

Okay. So, previously, I posted about cutting my own hair. I cut several inches off a month or so ago and it turned out well. Then, on Friday night, I got a little overly-confident with my new skill. I decided to cut some more off. Somewhere halfway through the process, I knew I was losing it (random chunks of hair, that is). I knew what was going to happen when I looked in the mirror. When I made the last snip, I let my hair down in looked in the mirror. "okay, okay, not that bad...the front is two inches longer than the back and that's fixable," I thought to myself. I went ahead and snipped the front to match the back. The problem was...I wasn't really equipped to make that fix on my own; I made some crazy maneuver that left the front about an inch and a half shorter than the back. It was starting to look like something from SNL. There, in my bathroom, at 10:30pm or so, I proceded to style my hair (cover my mess-up) in an effort to convince myself that it wasn't that bad. Once I was okay with it, I went to bed.

The next morning. 

I woke up with hair that very closely resembled my two-year-old's bedhead and uneven locks (not nearly as cute, of course). I looked at it, curled it, and immediately called my stylist friend (the one that I said may have to eventually come and save me). I explained my predicament. She responded with, "just call me when you need a haircut" and came right over to rescue my tortured locks.

The result? 

My hair is really short. It looks good because my stylist friend is super talented; she could put a lampshade on my head and make it look like the latest trend in hair artistry. However, it is shorter than I'm used to (which is totally my fault, btw, for getting scissor-happy).

So, what now? 

I learn a spiritual lesson of sorts. I'm not saying that haircutting is a spiritual lesson in itself, but it made me think about all of the times we (as Christians) try to fix things ourselves instead of calling out for help. I could rattle many, many accounts in my own life when I tried to be the solution instead of seeking God; We try to do things ourselves. We realize we're not doing the right thing, yet we do it anyway. When things don't work, we try to patch it all up ourselves. When that doesn't work, we (hopefully) call to Jesus for a fix. He may not fix it in the way we hoped (like how my stylist couldn't add 4 inches back to my hair) or as quickly as we'd hope, but everything is for His glory and is perfectly orchestrated by Him. 

Like my hair stylist friend who said, "Just call me when you need a haircut." Christ also commands that we call on Him. Jeremiah 29:13 says, "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." 

Speaking of issues more significant than my crooked hair, I have tried to be the solution. I have tried to solve a problem that was deeply rooted and obviously only fit for God to deal with. I've been refined and groomed by Christ, fixing me however he wishes.

Seek the professional problem-solver, call on Christ.

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This post is linked up to Grace Laced Mondays, Better Mom Mondays and Just for Fun Fridays

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