Wonder Woman

I love life. I love doing things. I love being involved with great projects. I don't usually do things half-way and I don't usually say "no".

In fact, "no" is not an easy word for me to say. I seldom say it. If someone asks me to do something the answer is most often "Yes!" It's not a guilt thing, it's just an "I want to do EVERYTHING" thing.

I have always seen myself as Wonder Woman. I have always been able to get a lot done in a short amount of time and on very little sleep. Really, I can do it all!

But, spring was stressful. Especially the month of May. I kept telling myself if I could just make it to the summer months, things would slow down and I could breath.

So, in June we did VBS, started working in my grandmother's house, went to Wonderland, went on a short fishing trip, had a garage sale, celebrated 2 birthdays and Father's day, went to the zoo, and volunteered at the used curriculum sale. We have 6 weeks left of summer and on the calendar we have church camp, 3 (yes, 3!)out-of-town fiddle contests, a ladies retreat, vacation, summer violin recital, July 4th @ Mom's, and whatever else pops into our lives.

Oh, and school! I have 6 weeks to wade though a huge stack (about 2 feet!) of teaching manuals for our new curriculum. I also need to re-organize our school room and set up our new workbox system. I have 300 pages of learning centers to cut out and laminate.

All of this is piled on top of normal, day-to-day chores and activities and 2 very active kids who are always on the go, creating new adventures and begging to go to the pool.

Please don't misunderstand - I love all of the activity! I really do! I am just starting to realize how over-committed and over-extended I have become.

I am a fairly organized person. I have schedules and lists and calendars. I have always believed if I could fit it into my "box", then I could handle anything. I am Wonder Woman, right? As long as I didn't have to physically be 2 places at once, I could do it. But this morning, I walked into the laundry room, looked at my pile of laundry that I could have sworn was caught up, and I thought, "Wow. I guess I can't do it all. Maybe I am not Wonder Woman, after all."

It's a sad day but, I guess I need to hang up my Golden Tiara and my Lasso of Truth. I need to slide my red patent boots back under the bed, grab my calender, a big glass of sweet-tea, and a fat black marker. Then I need to go sit in the shade and start "x-ing" things off the calendar and penciling in things like "breath", "take a long bubble bath", and "date night with Kris". I received an email from my friend, Leah, today and something she said has really resonated with me. I think it's time to cut out something "good" for something "excellent."

I'm saving my Wonder Woman gear, though. You never know, I may need to pull it back out again some day.

It's Gotcha Day!

I originally posted this on June 21, 2009. Today is my sweet Bailey's "Gotcha Day", so I decided to re-post. Happy Gotcha Day, Sweet Bailey Jean!!!




Eight years ago today, our Bailey flew home to Texas and officially became a part of our family.

We had waited 9 years to have a child we could call our own. It was, at times, an extremely painful wait. But when my baby girl was placed in my arms, all of that pain was wiped away. It was if it had never happened. The wait was over and we were finally together.

That night at the airport, cameras were snapping and people were laughing and talking. Documents were presented and information passed hands. But I was in another world. I just hugged her and cried and said over and over again, "Mommy loves you, Mommy loves you, Mommy loves you . . . . "

Looking back over my life, I realize Bailey has always been a part of me. I loved her long before I knew her. I will never understand how God put us together or why he chose to give her life a world away from my own. It doesn't matter. She is mine. We may not look the same, but our hearts beat the same beat. We are a part of each other.

At night, while she is asleep, I sneak into her room to watch her sleep. I look at her little face and wonder what she saw in the first few months of her life. Who held her first? Who changed her first diaper? Who fed her the first time? Who was the first to rock her to sleep? I want to see them, too. I want to thank them for loving her. I want them to know how much she has grown and how happy she is.

When Bailey talks about adoption, she explains it this way, "Jesus gave me to my mommy and daddy. Then, he stuck us together like glue. Our family is glue." I couldn't have said it better myself.

Craziness!

I love summer! I love trips to the pool, VBS, snow cones, trips to the mountains, cook-outs, flip flops, Wonderland, July 4th celebrations, and lazy afternoons. This will be Bailey and Zack's first year to go to church camp as real campers instead of Mom and Dad's helpers and they can't wait! I am loving this summer!

I love summer so much that I usually try to stretch it as far as it will go. I push school to the back of my mind and just drink in the sunshine. But something happened this summer that has forced me to think about the coming school year much sooner. (sigh) The PCHEA Used Curriculum Sale.

You see, I have been wanting to change curriculum. However, the curriculum I chose was above and beyond our homeschooling budget, so I knew I was going to have to get creative. I was going to have to sell our old curriculum and try to find some used curriculum. The only problem was, it was going to force me to think about school during the happiest time of the year - summer!

But, I did it anyway. I cleaned out the old and brought in the new (well, gently used.) I am so thankful that God led me to ebay, the Used Curriculum Sale, and Mardel's 90% off sale. I am so thankful He led someone to my stack of goodies at the sale.

The result? Amazing.

Next year, we will using Bob Jones curriculum for a fraction of the cost and I am thrilled. We are also using Spelling Power and Saxon Math in addition to my friend, Bob's curriculum.

All of this has brought about a flurry of lesson planning, plotting a course of study, scheduling, list making . . . .

Which has left me SCREAMING at myself to stop and enjoy summer! I have to break free from the "homeschool mode"! Quick - someone bring me a watermelon snow cone! It's too early for this craziness!

Top 10 Reasons I Don't Have an iphone

So, I'm sitting in a meeting at church Sunday afternoon when a man walks in the door and asks for help. He says he needs a gas card and some groceries. We tell him who he needs to talk to and he walks out the door. He stands on the sidewalk for a few minutes, then pulls out his phone and calls someone.

I don't have an iphone. There are lots of reasons why I don't. One reason is I buy my own groceries and gas. Maybe I am being jaded and cynical, but it bothered me.

I get asked a lot, "You don't have an iphone? Why not?" Again, there are lots of reasons. One reason is I don't need a phone to solidify my place in society. In the words of my awesome friend Lana, "Your phone is not a status symbol - it is a way to communicate."

So when did cell phones become our identities? I am a lot of things, but I am not my phone. I am an artist, a voracious reader, a wife, a mother, a lover of shoes, and a pretty good fiddle player.

I simply choose not to spend my money on things like iphones. I'm not criticizing those that do. If you have an iphone, that's fine. Really, it's ok. People who have iphones are not evil. It just bothers me when people who have iphones throw it in my face and try to make me feel second class because I choose to spend my money on something else. You are not making yourself look successful and amazing. You are making yourself look shallow and foolish. You look silly. If your phone defines who you are, then you aren't much.

To be perfectly honest, I could have an iphone if I wanted one. It's not a matter of the "haves" and the "have nots". I could re-arrange my spending habits and go buy an iphone this week. It's just not what I want to do. I know it's hard to believe, but I don't want to spend money on technology. It's not who I am. It's not what I do. It's not right or wrong, it's just me. That's all.

So, don't try to impress me with your phone. Phones don't impress me. People impress me. People who are intelligent, articulate, creative, loving, and passionate impress me. My friend who has helped countless refugee families settle into homes impresses me. My nephew who is currently in Belgium, sharing his faith with people on the streets impresses me. My husband who works endless hours to provide for our family impresses me. A fellow adoptive mother who moved to China to become a missionary in her daughters' homeland impresses me. Claude Monet, Kathy Thibodeaux, Chopin, Dr. Kim Duk Whang, Harper Lee . . . these people impress me. Good grief, the person who invented vanilla Dr. Pepper impresses me more than someone who simply bought an iphone.

So in honor of amazing people everywhere, here are the top 10 reasons I don't have an iphone:


10. I don't try to keep up with they Jones'. They try to keep up with me.

9. Bailey takes ballet at a private conservatory.

8. Zack plays sports.

7. I like to buy nice art supplies for both my children and myself.

6. I have 68 pairs of shoes.

5. I spend money on experiences instead of technology. I would rather climb a mountain, visit a museum, or go to a concert than have an iphone.

4. I am incredibly beautiful, smart, artistic, and talented. I don't need an iphone to convince others I am an amazing human being. My phone is not my status symbol.

3. My children's needs and wants come before my own. They are well-fed, well-clothed, and well-educated. We work hard to give them opportunities many children do not have. They live a full life.

2. I like to read books, not screens.

and the number one reason is ............





1. I don't want one.

The Art of Creativity

College.

I think I was addicted.

It took me 7 years to get a 4 year degree.

I am not a slow learner. I did not fail classes and have to take them over. I wasn't lazy. I took any where from 12 to 21 hours a semester. I even went to summer school. The problem was, I kept changing my major.

I had 4 different majors in 7 years. Art, Dance, Theater, Education, then back again. I just couldn't make up my mind. I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. No, that's not right. I knew what I wanted to be. I wanted to be everything.

I came close to getting my degree in dance. I wanted to be a choreographer for a big ballet company. I came even closer to getting a degree in theater. I wanted to direct plays. I also wanted to be an art historian, a photographer, an interior designer, a writer, a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker. As my dad says, every time I got "in danger of graduating", I changed my major.

If you know me, then you probably know how this story ends. After too many years in college, my Daddy took me to lunch, then took me to the registrar's office. He slapped my transcript on the desk and said, "What can you give her for this?" The answer was, "a Bachelor's degree in General Studies".

So, I graduated. My mom sang the "Hallelujah Chorus" at my graduation. Literally. They called my name, I shook the mayor's hand, my mom stood up and let 'er rip.

I learned a lot in those 7 years and I have so many sweet memories. One day my boyfriend (now husband) rescued me in the parking lot outside the fine art's building. I had driven my car over a parking curb and got it stuck. One time my dad sent me flowers after I made an 'A' on an algebra test. One morning I told my friends in the dance studio about my first date with Kris. They all agreed it was a disaster and I would probably never hear from him again! Two semesters, I helped teach ballet to some desperate Ag major cowboys trying to get their fine art requirement.

I've heard people say the most important thing about college is getting that piece of paper that says you graduated. When you interview for a job, no one ever asks what you learned - they ask if you have a degree. Maybe that's true, but I love that I was able to learn so many different things.

My favorite class was called "The Art of Creativity". It kind of wrapped up everything that I loved about college; about life. I'm in my 30's now, but I still think about that class and that goofy, slump shouldered professor who taught it. That class was a real turning point for me. It helped me see that I didn't have to settle on one area of creativity. I didn't have to just be a dancer or just be a painter. I could tie everything that I loved together and just be an artist.

Looking at my life today, I realize that I am everything I was back in college. A friend of mine once told me I was "too passionate", another told me I had A.D.H.D. My life isn't a life that can fit into any one career path. I still paint, write, create, and even teach. (See? I knew those semesters as an education major would come to good use some day!) I am always wanting to try something new. I guess that is a phase I will never out-grow. My new goals are to master watercolors and read the classics.

So, I guess I wasn't addicted to college. I just love life.

My Little Genius

My mom has always talked about how smart she thinks Zack is. She is always bragging about the things he says and does. She is always telling me what an "awesome responsibility" I have, home schooling such a gifted child.

When he was about 4 years old, I was listening to my mother go on and on about how brilliant he was as he played in the floor at her feet. Sarcastically I said, "Yup. He's a genius. That little kid sitting right there with Lincoln Logs in his ears is going to be a rocket scientist!"

My mom is a proud grandma and don't get me wrong - I've always been extremely happy that she is so involved in my children's lives. I've always been thrilled with the fact that she thinks my children are amazing.

Mom has been talking about my "genius child" since he was a baby, but to be perfectly honest, I just didn't see it . . . . until yesterday.

Zack had to eat a late lunch because he took too long finishing up his math worksheet. (He likes math, but he likes looking out the window better.) So, he was sitting at the kitchen table, by himself, eating a plate of leftover tater-tot casserole and it was taking him forever to eat. (He likes tater-tot casserole, but he likes looking out the window better.)

All of a sudden, he jumps up from the table and says "Hey mom! I just got a great idea!" Then he goes on to explain that he has seen pictures of Japan after the earthquake and he noticed something odd. The houses fell down, but the trees did not. It's because the houses didn't have roots. So, when he grows up, he is going to build an "earthquake safe house". The house is going to have roots that go deep into the ground. The house will still shake, but it won't fall down on people. It will keep them safe.

OK, so maybe mom is right. Maybe my 7 year old little boy IS brilliant. Maybe I should have seen it when mom did. Maybe I should have seen it when the pediatrician told us at age 2, his vocabulary was extraordinary. Maybe I should have seen it when he started to read at age 3. Maybe I should have seen it when he designed and built a solar-powered oven. Maybe I should have seen it when he started playing, and sometimes winning, the game of chess.

Maybe he IS a genius . . . . .or maybe he's just a goofy little kid with Lincoln Logs in his ears.

My Lovely Brown

I am not a coffee drinker.

I wish I was, I really do. I love the idea of coffee.

I think chunky, ceramic mugs are cute. I also think I would look really grown-up and trendy carrying around one of those paper cups with the nifty little lid. Coffee makes an incredible accessory. It goes with anything. Even jeans and a tee look cute with a coffee cup. It's like the "little black dress" of accessories. You just can't go wrong carrying around a cup of coffee.

I have tried to like it. I have tasted every kind of coffee I could find, but yuck. Every single sip makes me want to gag. It tastes like charcoal water and who wants to drink that?

Kris likes coffee. He frequents those trendy places with the bistro sets and the tan and burgundy walls. I always have to give him an extra long hug after he meets a friend for coffee. He smells so yummy. You see, I love the way coffee smells. I even bought a coffee candle. Imagine my embarrassment, though, when someone dropped by and asked to stay for a cup of that delicious-smelling coffee. "Oh no," I had to say, "I'm not hip enough to drink coffee. It's just a candle." Oh, how I wished coffee tasted the way it smells!

In November, Kris took me to Starbucks. (He had a gift card and he wanted a cheap date.) I stood there, desperately searching the menu for something I could choke down, when I spotted it - "Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate."

I like caramel. I like chocolate.

I was not prepared, however, for the utter bliss that I would feel upon my first sip of this nectar of the gods.

I truly embarrassed myself in front of my sweet husband. He thought I was having some sort of attack or something. I cannot mimic the sounds of joy that escaped my mouth. I thought I was going to die from . . . I don't know. . . ecstasy?

It tasted so perfectly delicious and on top of that . . . . it came in one of those paper cups with that nifty little lid! Finally, I had found perfection in my world. The most wonderful tasting beverage and a darling accessory all in one package! My heart is, even now, thumping wildly at the thought of this discovery.

But my joy was matched with an equal sorrow when December rolled around and "salted caramel" was replaced on the menu by "peppermint". Peppermint! My heart ached at the realization that "Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate" was a seasonal menu item - available during the autumn months only.

Depression set in over the months of December and half of January.

That is, until this week.

Out of sheer desperation, I asked my husband to drive me to Roaster's. I needed caramel hot chocolate and I needed it bad. Roaster's is a cute little coffee shop. It smells nice. No caramel hot chocolate, though. Fighting back tears, I asked my husband to see if the little coffee guy behind the counter would make me some hot chocolate and add caramel. You know what? The little guy said "OK. Sure thing!" He was even chipper about it and acted like it was perfectly normal for the husband of a teary, desperate, imbalanced female to ask for caramel.

One sip and I knew I had found what I had been looking for. My heart was finally home.

But, oh, what does this mean? Have I wasted almost two months mourning a beverage I could have been drinking all along? Oh, the pain, the regret! What have I done? What have missed?

Alas, after much soul searching, I have resolved to not give in to the regret of past mistakes. I will no longer torment myself. What's done is done. I cannot change the past. All I can do it look to the future and enjoy each day as it comes.

I will not take for granted my luscious Caramel Hot Chocolate. I will relish each and every sip. I will not think on those darkest of days, spent away from my lovely brown. I am bravely walking towards a new dawn; a new chapter.

.....and don't I look fab carrying my paper cup with that nifty little lid?