I wish I had been in Indianapolis today. It looked like one heck of a party.
Congrats to little Eli and the Giants for a great game.
On a side note - today Bree had her second tooth cut. It's no Super Bowl, but it to everyone in this house excited!
Goodbye, gummy grin! Hello, toothy smile!
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Priorities.
Where are they?
I had a recent conviction in this area.
I was putting Bree down for her nap. She fell asleep, and I put her in her crib. I walked out the door and didn't look back. I went downstairs, sat on my couch, and I started to cry.
Don't stop here or else you will think I am just insane.
I'm not.
As I sat down on the couch to relax with Giselle (naps are our snuggle time), I realized if something were to happen to Bree while she was sleeping, I had spent the entire morning cleaning and worrying about my stupid house.
Don't get me wrong: cleaning is important.
But I was putting a priority on the look of my house rather than my adorable little girl.
When I should have been on the floor playing peek-a-boo or building block towers for her to knock down, I was instead worrying about laundry, the dishes, vacuuming, mopping, dusting, and scrubbing my house into submission.
Right now, Bree is my job. It might not be valued by society to be a stay at home mom, but it's what we chose. I chose to stay home so I could teach her, cuddle her, play with her, and show her LOTS of new things each day. I didn't choose to stay home so I could have an immaculate house. I would still be working if those were my choices: job or clean house.
Job.
But Bree is what I chose, and I need to remember each day that I chose her. And I need to re-choose her every morning, every time my dishes stack up, every time my table is cluttered. Because my house is not eternal. My stuff is not eternal.
My daughter's soul ... now that's eternal.
So where is my priority?
Right where it should be: gazing into the beautiful blue eyes of my extremely happy and silly baby girl.
I had a recent conviction in this area.
I was putting Bree down for her nap. She fell asleep, and I put her in her crib. I walked out the door and didn't look back. I went downstairs, sat on my couch, and I started to cry.
Don't stop here or else you will think I am just insane.
I'm not.
As I sat down on the couch to relax with Giselle (naps are our snuggle time), I realized if something were to happen to Bree while she was sleeping, I had spent the entire morning cleaning and worrying about my stupid house.
Don't get me wrong: cleaning is important.
But I was putting a priority on the look of my house rather than my adorable little girl.
When I should have been on the floor playing peek-a-boo or building block towers for her to knock down, I was instead worrying about laundry, the dishes, vacuuming, mopping, dusting, and scrubbing my house into submission.
Right now, Bree is my job. It might not be valued by society to be a stay at home mom, but it's what we chose. I chose to stay home so I could teach her, cuddle her, play with her, and show her LOTS of new things each day. I didn't choose to stay home so I could have an immaculate house. I would still be working if those were my choices: job or clean house.
Job.
But Bree is what I chose, and I need to remember each day that I chose her. And I need to re-choose her every morning, every time my dishes stack up, every time my table is cluttered. Because my house is not eternal. My stuff is not eternal.
My daughter's soul ... now that's eternal.
So where is my priority?
Right where it should be: gazing into the beautiful blue eyes of my extremely happy and silly baby girl.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Dear Bree,
I know you are very busy soaking up everyone's attention. That must be a rough life you have. I remember when it used to be mine. You know me, I am the one under the blanket on the couch. You always rip my blanket off me and laugh. I don't think it's funny.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I have made my peace with you being here. But please stop chasing me while I eat or taking my food from me. Our parents might think it's funny to watch you eat my food, but I dont. In the wild, that calls for acts of aggression. But when I try, you know who comes to your aide, and I get in trouble. I don't know why it's my fault. But it always is.
Also, I know my legs, eyes, ears, mouth, head, and fur LOOK like toys - but they're not. They are necessary to my survival, even if dad says otherwise. So please stop pulling, pinching, grabbing, or squeezing them. I don't like it. I would retaliate, but, as previously mentioned, you would only be rescued and I: in trouble.
I hear mom and dad talking about more of you. I surely hope not. One of you is enough.
I can only imagine I have a few good years left, anyway. They hardly ever remember to give me water and food each morning. They are too busy doting on you. Just let me live in peace under my blanket. Please.
Love,
Giselle
P.S. I will disregard all animosity if you start dropping food on the floor "accidentally" during meals. They think it's cute. I get food. We all win. Think about it.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I have made my peace with you being here. But please stop chasing me while I eat or taking my food from me. Our parents might think it's funny to watch you eat my food, but I dont. In the wild, that calls for acts of aggression. But when I try, you know who comes to your aide, and I get in trouble. I don't know why it's my fault. But it always is.
Also, I know my legs, eyes, ears, mouth, head, and fur LOOK like toys - but they're not. They are necessary to my survival, even if dad says otherwise. So please stop pulling, pinching, grabbing, or squeezing them. I don't like it. I would retaliate, but, as previously mentioned, you would only be rescued and I: in trouble.
I hear mom and dad talking about more of you. I surely hope not. One of you is enough.
I can only imagine I have a few good years left, anyway. They hardly ever remember to give me water and food each morning. They are too busy doting on you. Just let me live in peace under my blanket. Please.
Love,
Giselle
P.S. I will disregard all animosity if you start dropping food on the floor "accidentally" during meals. They think it's cute. I get food. We all win. Think about it.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Thankful Thursday
Thank you, Lord, for these wonderful things, in no particular order:
Our Keurig machine, even though it's technically Brent's;
a mild, almost WARM, winter;
a Walmart, Target, Sam's Club, and Hobby Lobby within walking distance;
Oh, and this little, happy thing ...
Our Keurig machine, even though it's technically Brent's;
a mild, almost WARM, winter;
a Walmart, Target, Sam's Club, and Hobby Lobby within walking distance;
Oh, and this little, happy thing ...
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
What's it like?
I've had a lot of friends wonder what my life is like.
The life of a stay at home mom.
It's a mystery unknown to many, but those who are in the same boat know all too well what goes on all day.
It's a glamorous life. I enjoy plenty of alone time. I shower each morning and dress in my prettiest outfits. I take plenty of time primping, meticulously styling my hair and applying my make up. I work out each morning and have a healthy breakfast. My day is filled with important household tasks that never go unnoticed. I, of course, make time for Oprah and Bon-Bons. I await my husband in my dress, apron, high heels, and pearls with a four-course meal on the table - with our nicest China set out, of course. I love my life.
Oh wait, no, sorry. That was a dream I had last night.
Mine is an unglamorous life. The only alone time I have is when I hide in my shower for 15 minutes while Bree plays in her bouncer watching Veggie Tales. Sometimes there's no time for a shower until after bedtime. I dress in the same outfit everyday. Jeans and a nursing tank top - it just makes life easier. Often, I will get thrown up on and change clothes multiple times a day.
For instance, yesterday I was thrown up on so I changed pants, and I was thrown up on again 5 minutes later.
My hair has made its peace with never getting attention. It's either in a pony tail or pig tails - I try to at least vary between the two. It doesn't matter anyway; it is seen as a toy however it's styled. Forget make up. The only work out I get is walking up and down the stairs changing poopy diapers and the new game of walking around the house holding Bree's fingers. Rather than toning muscles, I am developing scoliosis. I pray she walks soon.
I pretend the food I actually eat is healthy. For my sister's sake, I will leave out what my diet consists of. The only TV shows I watch are on PBS: Word World, Angelina Ballerina, or Peep and the Big Wide World. There are never any Bon-Bons - even though I keep checking my pantry hoping they just materialize for stay-at-home moms because that's all you hear about.
My husband comes home and asks how my day was and what I did. He falls asleep listening to my account of washing clothes, cleaning the fan blades, and dusting. He does take notice if there is a delicious meal prepared for us - because there's usually not. I fall asleep looking at the clock, counting how many hours of sleep I will get until 3 am, when it all starts over.
I guess the only part of my dream that was real is that I love my life.
I love the craziness. I love the new things I learn each day. I love the challenge to grow and become a better wife and mom. I am never without trials - giving me daily opportunities to show patience, grace, love, and kindness. I am always reminded of the blessings God has given us. I treasure the little things Bree learns each day. I anticipate my husband's return home because I love watching him give Bree a bath. That little girl loves her daddy, and that man loves that little girl. I love our nightly games of Carcassone after Bree is asleep, which is also when we eat cookies or ice cream or -let's be honest- both. I love my snuggle time with Giselle each night while I do my devotions and Bible study homework on the couch. I love crawling into bed with the man of my dreams and tickling him until he commands me go to sleep. I usually take this opportunity to practice my monologue, which is the first 20 minutes of the movie Megamind. I've got it down. Before I fall asleep I thank God for the life He has given me and pray I can appreciate it the next day in the midst of trial.
The life of a stay at home mom.
It's a mystery unknown to many, but those who are in the same boat know all too well what goes on all day.
It's a glamorous life. I enjoy plenty of alone time. I shower each morning and dress in my prettiest outfits. I take plenty of time primping, meticulously styling my hair and applying my make up. I work out each morning and have a healthy breakfast. My day is filled with important household tasks that never go unnoticed. I, of course, make time for Oprah and Bon-Bons. I await my husband in my dress, apron, high heels, and pearls with a four-course meal on the table - with our nicest China set out, of course. I love my life.
Oh wait, no, sorry. That was a dream I had last night.
Mine is an unglamorous life. The only alone time I have is when I hide in my shower for 15 minutes while Bree plays in her bouncer watching Veggie Tales. Sometimes there's no time for a shower until after bedtime. I dress in the same outfit everyday. Jeans and a nursing tank top - it just makes life easier. Often, I will get thrown up on and change clothes multiple times a day.
For instance, yesterday I was thrown up on so I changed pants, and I was thrown up on again 5 minutes later.
My hair has made its peace with never getting attention. It's either in a pony tail or pig tails - I try to at least vary between the two. It doesn't matter anyway; it is seen as a toy however it's styled. Forget make up. The only work out I get is walking up and down the stairs changing poopy diapers and the new game of walking around the house holding Bree's fingers. Rather than toning muscles, I am developing scoliosis. I pray she walks soon.
I pretend the food I actually eat is healthy. For my sister's sake, I will leave out what my diet consists of. The only TV shows I watch are on PBS: Word World, Angelina Ballerina, or Peep and the Big Wide World. There are never any Bon-Bons - even though I keep checking my pantry hoping they just materialize for stay-at-home moms because that's all you hear about.
My husband comes home and asks how my day was and what I did. He falls asleep listening to my account of washing clothes, cleaning the fan blades, and dusting. He does take notice if there is a delicious meal prepared for us - because there's usually not. I fall asleep looking at the clock, counting how many hours of sleep I will get until 3 am, when it all starts over.
I guess the only part of my dream that was real is that I love my life.
I love the craziness. I love the new things I learn each day. I love the challenge to grow and become a better wife and mom. I am never without trials - giving me daily opportunities to show patience, grace, love, and kindness. I am always reminded of the blessings God has given us. I treasure the little things Bree learns each day. I anticipate my husband's return home because I love watching him give Bree a bath. That little girl loves her daddy, and that man loves that little girl. I love our nightly games of Carcassone after Bree is asleep, which is also when we eat cookies or ice cream or -let's be honest- both. I love my snuggle time with Giselle each night while I do my devotions and Bible study homework on the couch. I love crawling into bed with the man of my dreams and tickling him until he commands me go to sleep. I usually take this opportunity to practice my monologue, which is the first 20 minutes of the movie Megamind. I've got it down. Before I fall asleep I thank God for the life He has given me and pray I can appreciate it the next day in the midst of trial.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Put on Love
I have been feeling quite convicted of the way I view myself in regards to looks and beauty. It started happening when I noticed Bree watching me - always watching me. She watches me get dressed - and redressed - and redressed until I finally pick out an outfit that I don't think looks terrible. She watches me put on my make-up. She watches me blow my hair dry ... then straighten it ... then curl it ... then finally put it in a ponytail feeling discontent.
Discontent seemed to color my whole perspective. I wish I had better clothes. I wish my skin was darker. I wish my hair was shorter - or longer when it's short. I wish had those cute shoes I saw at the mall. I wish I had more fun accessesories. And on, and on, and on. You get it.
It hit me this weekend: what a poor job I will do raising my daughter to love herself if I continue on this path.
I see how beautiful Bree is, and I constantly hope she will see herself the same way. I never want her to feel like she has to do more - or do anything - to be beautiful. I don't want her to feel like the outside is what matters. I don't want her to try to live up to our society's unrealistic expectations of beauty.
So, 2011 has seen a dramatic increase of my contentment and confidence. I have felt a strong gain in these areas - but there is still work to do. 2012 needs to be a year of "putting on love" (Colossians 3:14) and "dressing modestly, with decency and propriety, adorning themselves, not with elaborate hairstyles or gold or pearls or expensive clothes, but with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God" (1 Timothy 2:9-10).
I want to be the example Bree deserves. I want her to know her mommy loves how God made her and loves what God has given her. And maybe, just maybe, she will learn that for herself much quicker than I did.
Discontent seemed to color my whole perspective. I wish I had better clothes. I wish my skin was darker. I wish my hair was shorter - or longer when it's short. I wish had those cute shoes I saw at the mall. I wish I had more fun accessesories. And on, and on, and on. You get it.
It hit me this weekend: what a poor job I will do raising my daughter to love herself if I continue on this path.
I see how beautiful Bree is, and I constantly hope she will see herself the same way. I never want her to feel like she has to do more - or do anything - to be beautiful. I don't want her to feel like the outside is what matters. I don't want her to try to live up to our society's unrealistic expectations of beauty.
So, 2011 has seen a dramatic increase of my contentment and confidence. I have felt a strong gain in these areas - but there is still work to do. 2012 needs to be a year of "putting on love" (Colossians 3:14) and "dressing modestly, with decency and propriety, adorning themselves, not with elaborate hairstyles or gold or pearls or expensive clothes, but with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God" (1 Timothy 2:9-10).
I want to be the example Bree deserves. I want her to know her mommy loves how God made her and loves what God has given her. And maybe, just maybe, she will learn that for herself much quicker than I did.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Longing for Home
Today was the conclusion of my Revelation study - and wow, what a powerful way to end it. I learned a lot of great things, but here are a few final pearls of wisdom:
1. God chose to make all things new, not all new things.
He doesn't want to scrap His creation. He doesn't want to scrap my past or yours. How can we marvel at God's grace if we forget what He has brought us through? We have to keep our testimony of redemption.
2. We can't imagine what Heaven WILL have, but we CAN understand what it will NOT have.
This was probably the most pivotal thing I realized. Heaven is so incomprehensible. But I do know what will not be in Heaven: tears, death, sorrow, mourning, crying, pain. Probably the most powerful verse I have ever read comes from Isaiah 65 where he says:
17 “See, I will create
new heavens and a new earth.
The former things will not be remembered,
nor will they come to mind.
18 But be glad and rejoice forever
in what I will create,
for I will create Jerusalem to be a delight
and its people a joy.
19 I will rejoice over Jerusalem
and take delight in my people;
the sound of weeping and of crying
will be heard in it no more.
20 “Never again will there be in it
an infant who lives but a few days,
or an old man who does not live out his years..."
Never again will an infant live for only a few days. The sound of weeping and crying will be heard NO MORE.
3. The redeemed will finally BE HOME.
We will gaze upon our Heaven on earth and finally say, THIS is what I was created for. We will no longer be strangers, foreigners, or aliens. We will be home.
1. God chose to make all things new, not all new things.
He doesn't want to scrap His creation. He doesn't want to scrap my past or yours. How can we marvel at God's grace if we forget what He has brought us through? We have to keep our testimony of redemption.
2. We can't imagine what Heaven WILL have, but we CAN understand what it will NOT have.
This was probably the most pivotal thing I realized. Heaven is so incomprehensible. But I do know what will not be in Heaven: tears, death, sorrow, mourning, crying, pain. Probably the most powerful verse I have ever read comes from Isaiah 65 where he says:
17 “See, I will create
new heavens and a new earth.
The former things will not be remembered,
nor will they come to mind.
18 But be glad and rejoice forever
in what I will create,
for I will create Jerusalem to be a delight
and its people a joy.
19 I will rejoice over Jerusalem
and take delight in my people;
the sound of weeping and of crying
will be heard in it no more.
20 “Never again will there be in it
an infant who lives but a few days,
or an old man who does not live out his years..."
Never again will an infant live for only a few days. The sound of weeping and crying will be heard NO MORE.
3. The redeemed will finally BE HOME.
We will gaze upon our Heaven on earth and finally say, THIS is what I was created for. We will no longer be strangers, foreigners, or aliens. We will be home.
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