what's your sign?

Recently I have come to the conclusion that life (at least, MY life) would be monumentally easier if every person wore a sign around his/her neck that listed Things You Should Know About Me If You Want to Be My Friend. (Or something that means the same thing but sounds way less cheesy and dorky).

Logistics (such as: Is it really prudent to have such a sign be visible at all times or should it only appear when someone really DOES want to be your friend? and How many things go on the list?) aside - I'm convinced this is a stellar idea. The fact that I came up with the idea has nothing to do with its obvious merit. *cough*

Inane and inconsequential "insights" like I like basketball would only be allowed on the list if your liking borders on obsession and it would truly be helpful for someone to know this prior to going about the business of becoming your friend.

Now, I'm not talking about taking all the fun out of getting to know someone - because I really do like the discovery process involved in growing new friendships. I'm also not advocating that the sign hanging around the neck would in any way serve as a deterrent ("Oh, now that I know that, I don't want to be your friend") NOPE.

It's just that (especially early on) a lot of time/energy/potentially hurt feelings could be saved if we had certain tidbits of information upfront.

Katie, I just don't get exactly what you mean!

Here's a completely made-up, not-at-all-realistic or exactly and precisely accurate "for instance":

One of the items on my sign would read: "I don't like feeling/looking stupid." (Don't like is probably way too gently put, actually) I know that very few people probably actually like feeling and/or looking stupid, so it seems like a silly thing to say - but run with me here for a minute, folks.

My intense dislike for feeling/looking stupid is pride-based. I am well aware of this, and it is definitely something I struggle with and work on - on a daily basis. I want people to think I have it together and I can handle things. I know it shouldn't matter to me - and God & I are in the process of working on that.

HOWEVER - those that know and love me are aware of this - and are particularly judicious with their advice/help/comments - they know me well enough to wait until I ask for help or input, or they know how to say things or to approach me in a way that doesn't seem condescending or patronizing. Above all - they show more interest in me as a person than in what they can do for me - and that (for me) is a really good thing. I appreciate their willingness to love me where I am, despite the fact that I probably should be somewhere else.

I've met new people who didn't know this about me - and occasionally, in their unknowing efforts to "be helpful" wind up setting off a defensive alarm in my head. Advice is given (that is almost certainly well-intentioned) that makes me feel talked-down-to and suddenly... walls go up. Well-meaning help is offered - and I transform into someone who is "incapable" - which makes me want to avoid the person offering the help because now I think they think I can't hack it on my own.

I know - I'm crazy. But the thing is - if I had a sign around my neck, everyone who wanted to be my friend could KNOW how crazy I am and could (if they so chose) adjust their approach to me.
Likewise - I would be thrilled to not inadvertently step on someone else's "emotional toes" and learn, from the very beginning, to love them where they are...

Sometimes, I think a little tip-off wouldn't be that bad.

What would your sign say??

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Completley Unrelated and Gratuitous Baby Pictures:

Hazel has enjoyed music, specifically acoustic guitar, since before she was born. This just further evidence that we have a little prodigy on our hands.

Not that I'm biased or anything.

begone!

I should be allowed nowhere near peanut butter M & Ms. Especially cute Halloween colored peanut butter M & Ms. I will munch on the entire bag, no matter the size, over the course of a few (too few) days until every. last. one. is. gone.

And then, I won't really miss them. I don't need them. But my willpower goes right out the window if I try to coexist with them.

On an entirely unrelated note - my friend Dilyn came over to spend a couple hours with Hazel and I this morning (and hopefully every Thursday morning). We had (or at least - I had and I hope she had) a nice time chatting and learning a little more about each other. We've known each other for awhile but have never had a ton of opportunity to sit around and have the kind of talks that lead to knowing a person more, well... personally. I think we started branching that way today.

Dilyn is a wonderfully sweet gal who is a junior in college, studying all kinds of science things that I'm totally impressed by (because I'm SO not a studying-science kind of girl myself)... on her way to hopefully being a physical therapist. She's also spending a lot of her time loving the girls (now high school sophomores) that I knew well when I was leading WYLdLife (middle school ministry I was involved in during my pre-baby days). It's incredibly cool to see her know and love these girls well - girls that (although I don't get to see them as often anymore) are incredibly special to me. And they love her so. much. too. Dilyn is a quiet-at-first, thoughtful, observant and generous woman who loves Christ a lot - and it positively seeps out of her. I like her.

Part of our conversation this morning is leading me to a (few?) new blog post(s)... but they're still stewing in my brain right now, so y'all will just have to wait. In the meantime...

my daughter is a robot

I've concluded that Hazel is a robot.

You know the one from The Incredibles - the one that has a mind of its own and decided to thwart all authority and run rampant over the tropical island and as anyone tries to fight it, it actually learns and gets smarter and smarter and better at outsmarting its opponent?

Yup - that's her.

The difference being that the robot in the movie actually killed its enemies. She hasn't succeeded in doing that yet.

But I swear - anything - ANYTHING - that is helpful with the usual bedtime/naptime battle we fight daily around here - anything - it only lasts a day or two. (And since it usually takes 2-3 days to figure out what "helpful" might be, the return on my investment is not so hot).

I thought mamas were supposed to love naptime and bedtime. In my head, it was always a sweet, quiet, dimly lit bonding time where songs are softly sung, sweet words are murmured - full of rocking chairs and snuggly blankets and delicious-smelling baby heads.

My reality includes many of those things - snuggly blankets and yummy baby heads and dim lights and soft songs... but they are too often cut short by cries and yells and a baby that is struggling against my arms and rubbing her face in my shoulder because she is So Tired but screams bloody murder when I have the audacity to lay her down to sleep in her bed. And so, I kind of dread bedtime and naptime.

I feel like I must be missing something, some key to parenting, some skill - there just doesn't seem to be any good reason why it should still be so gosh darn hard to put that girl to sleep.

Shouldn't there be something, some trick, that comforts her and makes her feel safe and sleepy?

And shouldn't her mama, who grew her and gave birth to her and spends every day with her be able to figure that out??

*sigh* Parenting robots is tricky business, folks.

powerful stuff

45 minutes ago, I was actually in physical pain from listening to Hazel cry. Poor gal was just so tired and just so stubbornly refusing to sleep... bad combo. It felt like it would never end, the wailing.

Three-quarters of an hour, a warm mug of decaf-coffee-plus-hot-cocoa, some good time with my Beth Moore devotional study book, and a little pilates/yoga and a few push-ups later... and I feel like new.

It doesn't hurt that Haze isn't crying anymore either.

I'm just saying... our most basic needs, combined with a few of the most simple pleasures... what else could a gal really ask for?

around the world in 80 days

I would say that I feel like I've been living in a Jules Verne novel lately. But that would be phony and fake, as I went to Illinois (not around the world) in a Nissan Versa (not by railroad or steamer) for 3 days (not 80)... and I have not even actually read Around the World in Eighty Days. So I will simply use it as a clever and exaggerative title (to a blog post in which I make up new words like exaggerative).

At any rate - I'm back. Hazel and I went to Nana & Papa's house (my parents) for the weekend since Daddy has been out of town since last Sunday and Mama was wanting a little bit of caretaking for herself. Oh - and because of her 10-year-high-school reunion. Gulp.

It was a lovely weekend - I'm always so well taken care of at my parents' house - they cook great food, run to Panera for delicious blueberry muffins in the morning, snuggle my baby daughter and fight over who gets to dress her and change her diapers and feed her dinner... it's a little vacation from my everyday life. We shopped, watched some TV, took walks, and played with the baby. Excellent.

And this visit, I got to reconnect with friends from high school. There was no real formal "party" - it was Homecoming weekend at BHS and there were mini-events all weekend, the only one of which I attended was my friend Sara's informal open-house. There were some people I've seen relatively recently (in the past year), some where it's been 2 or 3 or 5 years... and some I literally have not seen since the summer after we graduated. Here's what I noticed:

- We all pretty much look the same. Some people so much the same it's almost creepy.

- Lots of us have changed names... not just because we're married, but because we now answer to "Mom/Mommy/Mama/Mommommommommom"

- When talking to some of the people with whom I was not super-close or even necessarily "friends" (as opposed to more "friendly acquaintances") and you remove all the high school social trickiness and add 10 years - you think to yourself "if we still lived in the same town, I bet we would be good friends, because these are just nice people." It makes you feel kinda good, but also really sad that high school is so fraught with drama and social strata that prevents you from realizing those things as a teenager.

- It's strange to stand in your old friend's same old house with the same old people (plus their wives/husbands/children), snacking on slightly more refined food... and feel as though nothing and everything has changed.

- I much prefer smaller group get-together/catch-up sessions. It was a blast to see people, but I'm just not a big-group-type person. I like a cup of coffee (okay, okay - a doctored up frou-frou latte drink) and 1 or 2 other people and good conversation. I'd really love to catch up with these people in a more personal setting - but that's not exactly the easiest thing to do.

Anyway - we're home now, 10-year-reunion is under my belt, and Mark comes home (LATE) tomorrow night. Haze and I are looking forward to having our guy around again.

i am not universal

I've never been one of those people who "everyone just likes." And honestly (said with a slightly ashamed face)... I've never really been one of those people who naturally just "likes everyone."

I'm not going to sit and rant about how people do this or people do that or I hate it when people always... because I am well aware that I own the vast majority of responsibility when it comes to both sides of this issue. The way we treat and respond to the people around us has a great deal to do with whether we are liked or whether we like others. (I know that I can't control how they treat and respond to me, which is why I'll never hold out for universal appeal).

I've had a few relationships in my life that started out fairly rocky. People with whom I thought I had nothing in common and would not get along well with - or others that I knew (or thought I knew) and with whom I did not even want to be friends... and I have often been proved wrong. Very wrong. And honestly - I love it when that happens. And it's always the result of someone reaching out and taking a risk.

Sometimes the risk is minimal - just a friendly gesture to a person with whom you're not sure you'd get along... and you find that you can talk easily and find a great deal of support and encouragement in a new friend.

Sometimes the risk is terrifying - putting yourself out there and having a tough conversation that shines a big, bright spotlight on the elephant in the corner... and you find that the elephant is just as scared of you as you are of it, and that it just really would love to be your friend.

The thing is - it's always hard to work up to having that tough conversation... and (again, said with a slightly ashamed face) tough to figure out if the risk is worth the potential benefit. Because even though it could turn out beautifully and result in a rewarding new friendship... it could make a just slightly rocky relationship completely crumble into tiny little gravelly bits.

I'm not the easiest person to get to know, initially. I've been told I can be fairly guarded and stand-offish (probably doesn't seem that way on my blog, but this is a weirdly safe place for me to be myself) - and that's usually the case when I don't feel as though I can trust someone with myself. I've been burned by friends before, after over-zealous dive-right-into-being-friends personal sharing... and I'm fairly hesitant to do it again. Especially with people I know relatively well who have never truly put me at ease.

The thing is - I don't think this habit (or whatever you want to call it) is particularly God-pleasing... and I'd like to work on it. I just don't know how to start.

Can anyone out there relate?

filling the time

The days slide by... and if I'm not paying attention, I have No Idea what I've done with them. Partly, that's a curse of Mamahood, and partly, it's about me not being a very good steward of my time.

I have a budget for our money... and I usually think of myself as a pretty good time-manager. Except that I haven't really sat down and thought about how I want to be spending my time. I'm not sure that I view it as the incredibly rare and valuable resource that it is...

Lots of people have lots of opinions on how you should spend your time. Full-time work, stay-at-home-mama, housekeeping, exercise, girls-night-out, date-night with the hubby, playing with your kid, taking a nap, reading a book...

The thing with opinions is that they really usually work best for the person who is giving it. Not to say that sharing opinions is a bad thing, or that I don't OFTEN find value when someone shares theirs with me... it's just that at the end of the day, no one is responsible for me but me. And I don't want to look back and wish I'd spent my time differently.

Mark is out of town this week - and I'm trying to keep our schedule relaxed but productive - full of things that I might normally push aside for less meaningful, more mundane tasks. Because really - I'd rather eat dinner at a friends house and enjoy wonderful, supportive, loving company for a few hours than fold clothes. And I'd rather spend a few extra bucks on lunch to have some 1:1 time with a friend than stick like glue to my budget for the month and eat alone at home. Mark's only been gone since Sunday - and we miss Daddy A LOT, don't get me wrong - but I'm glad that I seem to be doing a better job of spending my days this time.

my moments

Sometimes it comes out as a good thing... you've just had a great idea, or the project you were working on turns out So. Much. Better. than you could have imagined or hoped. Someone compliments you, and you respond with a small smile and "I have my moments."

Other times, it's not such a good thing... someone (usually someone who doesn't know you all that well) says, "I have a hard time imagining that you would ever fill-in-the-blank." Then you respond with a small smile and "Oh, I have my moments."

The words are the same. The meaning... so different.

Last night - I had a moment. One of my moments. And unfortunately (for me and for Hazel) it was not the good kind. I'll spare you the drawn-out, sleep-deprived details... but suffice it to say that this Mama lost her cool a wee bit and responded in kind to her screaming, crying baby. Before anyone gets nervous about what actually happened - I did not yell at her... but I did let out a big ole holler of pure frustration while I was in the same room as her... and that, generally, does not calm babies down. Just a note for my own future reference.

Here's the thing. In the aftermath of my moment, with tears pouring down my cheeks as I tried to comfort the baby who has been entrusted to my care and was now crying harder than ever because of my uncontrolled emotional outburst... as I sat in the rocker and asked her and God to forgive me and felt like the biggest wreck and failure of a mama I could imagine...
I realized something.

His grace is sufficient for me.

I could be as down on myself as I liked, feel like a chump and a fraud and wonder why in the world I was so bad at the only thing I've ever really wanted to do with my life... OR... I could realize that God called me to be her mama. Me. He didn't pick me because I'd be perfect at it, or because I would do everything right. I might not actually ever know why He picked me. And it doesn't really matter. His grace is sufficient for me, and His power is made perfect in my weakness.

Last night, my weakness was so very weak, so very pronounced... I had a hard time not focusing on my role in the situation. But that completely ignores His role... and I'd much rather turn my eyes toward Him than be so self-centered that all I can do is feel bad about myself.

Today... well, today is a new day, and His mercies are new every morning. It's not easy, but I don't think it's supposed to be. One day at a time... that's not so hard, with this little one in my life:

blurry

Today is blurry.
Lack of sleep makes things blurry.
I know this is what babies do.
But my-oh-my... this mama needs her sleep between midnight and 3am. At least some sleep between midnight and 3am.
Blurry is the best I got today, folks.
Hopefully beautifully concise and clear and focused will pour forth tomorrow.

return to sender

Dear Rain,

You have been visiting us for approximately 76,391 hours.

The cute little “natural area” (aka mini-swamp) behind our home was officially named as the sixth Great Lake this afternoon. Thank you for lifting us out of obscurity.

I now no longer feel the need to visit Venice, Italy because I can walk out my own front door and sail away down the street in a gondola. If I had a gondola.

And while we missed you for pretty much the ENTIRE MONTH OF AUGUST and it’s uber-generous of you to make up for that now, I feel as though it’s time for us to take a break from all the visitation.

I swear, absence will make my heart grow fonder.

~Katie

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At least now I do know why God chose to break His sump pump this week, flooding His basement and causing us to spend His money on drying and cleaning His brand new carpeting… it’s so that He would have a shiny new UltraDuperFantabulousSumpPump in place for the torrential rains that came this weekend. We are very blessed to not have any real damage or dangerous flooding threatening our home.

A few memorable quotes from this weekend as we observed the rain:

“Remember when it wasn’t raining?”

“It’s pretty much like Noah.”

“I think I saw a shark in your backyard. Or a porpoise.”

All sogginess aside – we had a lovely weekend with my mom, dad and sister (sadly, water issues kept my big brother from being able to make the trip to Michigan) who came into town.

A game of Settlers/Seafarers was played (which, if you don’t know, is quite possibly one of the most fun games EVER), The Princess Bride was watched, delicious food was eaten… and we all came together as a family for Hazel’s dedication at church this morning (Mark’s mom, stepdad and sister were here for that too, which was awesome).

It’s been quite a week – awash with surprises and sprinkled with God-moments that keep the floodgates from bursting open.

my basement is humming. loudly.

It's humming because there are six or so industrial, full-strength fans and one dehumidifier (big enough for me to sit inside of it, I'd think) running nonstop.
They're running nonstop because after our lovely few days of heavy, late-summer rain this week, our sump pump decided to stop working. Which promptly soaked our newly finished basement.
(hang head and sigh a little bit)
Thankully - nothing was ruined, and it was noticed early on. The carpet is mostly pulled up and is being dried out and will hopefully be laid back down in a day or two. It's just awfully sad to stand in your basement and see water squish up through the (brand-new and not inexpensive) carpet and between your toes.
Oh - and did I mention that the basement is where the Meredith's bedroom is? Welcome to our home, friend - you can move into our lovely finished basement and commence your year of student teaching - but you'd better put on your waders!!
So Meredith spent the night in the bunkbeds in our spare room upstairs, and probably will until the carpet is dry (please by Friday, please by Friday) because oh yeah - my mom, dad, sister and brother are coming into town for the weekend for Hazel's dedication at church on Sunday.
The funny thing... this house is really God's house, our money is His money, and the weather is at His command. I'm just not sure why God chose to flood His brand new beautiful basement!! :)
This week is turning out a little differently than I thought it would - but it will all sort out in the end.

an insider's guide

(Thanks for all the comments on the previous 2 posts - and keep them coming if you have any other ideas! I'm stewing over tactics right now, and will let you all know how things go.)

Today, I'd like to introduce you to the place we call home - a small town that claims just over 7000 residents. There's a lovely little downtown area comprised of four "city" blocks that surround the county courthouse (pictured). We were first settled in the 1840s and incorporated as a city in 1865 (using the term "we" rather loosely here).
Without this insider's guide, I'm sure you'd be pretty much at a loss as to how to spend your time taking in the sights... fear not. I'm here to lend a hand.

Favorite places to eat:
Breakfast: The Depot - a fabulous little diner in what used to be the train depot. The pancakes are the size of your head, so only order one. (I'm partial to peach & blueberry, my hubby likes him a good peanut-butter-banana pancake). He's also had his favorite omelette combination listed on the marker board as a "Special."

Lunch/Dinner: Baja Grille - located right downtown. Yummy food in a family-owned diner with just a touch of edge... at least for a small town. I'm partial to the sandwich wraps and the nachos, personally.

Treats: Turtle Tom's Ice Cream is right downtown (can you tell now why Mark and I often enjoy walking downtown for entertainment - even if it is a 2-mile round trip?). Great hand-dipped ice cream (I love Muddy Sneakers!) and other treats (we're partial to chocolate malts and red raspberry slushes).

Favorite Places to Hang Out:
Bestseller's: A little coffeeshop/bookstore located downtown. The hours are a little restrictive (I think they might close by about 7:00 or 8:00pm, and only recently opened at all on Sundays) - but it's a great place to sit.

Biggby Coffee: Just this spring, we went big-time with a coffee chain! (Not a big chain, and many of you probably won't recognize the name...) The building used to be a bank, so there's still a vault door and the drivethrough has been put to good use. Another nice place to escape for a bit with a book.

Rayner Park: A little local park with a fabulous castle-like playground (can't wait until Hazel is big enough to enjoy it!), lots of picnic tables and open fields, sand volleyball court, softball diamond... and a great view of the 4th of July fireworks.

Kean's Store: Just celebrated its 80th anniversary - this store has almost everything: toys, baby clothes, cards, kitchen stuff, fabric/patterns/yarn, knick-knacks and other kitschy items, and an old-fashioned candy counter. It's best for me to leave my wallet in the car, though.

Favorite Events:
Pretty much any parade - and we do it up right for 4th of July, Memorial Day, the day after Thanksgiving (Santa makes an appearance)... it's good stuff. Lots of tractors and fire trucks and school busses - and you're guaranteed to run into just about everyone you know.

The Mason 5K - run every year on the first Friday of May - LOTS of people turn up for this event. Serious runners right down through the stroller-pushing crowd (that's me!). Proceeds go to the schools.

Bulldog football games - once again, you're pretty much guaranteed to see almost the whole town turn out in their Bulldog gear (and yes, we do have a little t-shirt for Hazel). Junk food, lots of friends - oh, and a little football too. What's not to love?

Really - it's just a good place to live. Walking around downtown is always fun (except in the dead of winter), I can't go to the grocery store without running into someone I know, and we feel safe leaving our doors unlocked when we walk around the neighborhood.

If you're ever in mid-Michigan, give me a call!

update to previous post

Here's the bedtime/naptime specifics (since a couple of people have asked):

Hazel does not like (and has never liked) being rocked to sleep. I think it may have worked twice in the history of her life - and only once she was totally exhausted and her parents were completely worn out. Almost any bedtime "trick" sets her off - it's as if she knows what you're plotting and pulls out everything in her baby arsenal to thwart you.

She will doze off in her carseat or a stroller occasionally, but she will not stay asleep, and any attempt to transfer her to bed results in her waking up (and generally not happy about it). Same thing goes for when she falls asleep while nursing. So although she cries when she sees her bed - the crib is really the only place she does sleep well. The trick is getting her to sleep.

She will eventually cry herself out. But it's been about 3 or 4 weeks of us trying to let her gradually cry longer and put herself to sleep, and the period of time it takes her to settle down has not really diminished, nor has the intensity of her tears.

We've tried waiting for her to be really tired (lots of yawns, eye rubbing, etc.) before putting her down. We've tried putting her down at the very first sign of sleepiness. We've tried variations in between.

Here is our normal routine (for bed):
Nurse - bathtime - play quietly until some signal/trigger of sleepiness (this doesn't take long usually) - go to bedroom where it's dark and quiet - nurse again - turn on white noise - sing a song or two - say prayers - lay baby down.
Naptime works pretty much the same way, but without the bathtime and the second nursing.

She sleeps fairly well once she falls asleep... right now, I'd just love love *love* a break from the tears.

wit's end / at a loss / brick wall

I'm stuck. Out of ideas.

However you want to say it.

If you've been reading for more than a few months, you probably remember that my lovely little daughter Hazel has a track record for not exactly being what people would dub "a good sleeper."

In the first weeks of her life, she would only sleep while people were holding her. Setting her down in anything - crib, pack & play, bouncy seat, carseat, boppy pillow - was pretty much a guarantee that she would either (1) wake up immediately or (2) sleep a grand total of up to, but not exceeding, 25 minutes.

As we transitioned to the crib, I tried all kinds of swaddling, wedges, and other props to get her to sleep on her back. No dice. I caved in and we had a happy tummy sleeper for about 6-8 weeks.

Today - my biggest problem - the one that makes me want to pull out my hair just a leetle bit - is that she will not - WILL NOT - go to bed in any fashion without tears (exception = some (not all) middle-of-the-night feedings will result in me laying down a quiet, sleepy baby). And most of the time - it's not little whimpery tears. It's big, crocodile sized tears accompanied by wailing of the intensity that can be heard outside the walls of our home when the windows & doors are closed. There is no escaping these tears. They subside eventually, and she does fall asleep. But oh my, this poor mama is growing so weary of listening to the gut-wrenching sobbing.

I've looked through countless websites. I've read books: The Baby Whisperer, The No-Cry Sleep Solution, Solve Your Child's Sleep Problems, Sleeping through the Night, The Happiest Baby on the Block, and more. Nothing I've tried from any of those books has worked to solve this particular problem (lots of good tips/tricks I've pocketed away for other situations though). We have a bedtime routine, a naptime routine - there is singing of quiet songs, there are prayers, there's soft music, dim lights, a white noise machine (not all at once, obviously, but in some combination at varying times). Still - she cries every. single. time. She's crying before she hits the mattress. I've tried letting her cry, I've gone in at intervals to soothe and rub her back. I've picked her up and tried again. And again.

I know there is nothing new under the sun, and I know this will pass. My only fear is that it might not pass before it kills me.

Does anyone out there have any fabulous secret trick that I may not have tried and that is not easily found in the vast research I've already done? Because I'm ready to listen to almost anything that isn't crying.

a thousand words

Life is good here. Making new friends, getting to know people better, folding laundry, making dinner... it's regular and routine and normal... and I'm having a great time.
Enjoy the long weekend!

identity

What do you do?
It's interesting to me that this is the question we ask in order to discover someone's identity. For some reason, the question "Who are you?" seems slightly odd, and would most likely be answered with a name (and a quizzical look).
What do you do?
The fact that this question is the marker for identity has nagged at me a bit since I became a mama. I could get up on my soapbox and drone on about how society underappreciates the role of motherhood (which I do believe is true) - but I won't. Not today.
I'd rather focus on the truth that has sunk into my skin during the past week in a way it never has before.
My identity is NOT what I do. Not that what I do isn't important or valuable. It is. But it's not eternal.
I am a child of the King. Period. I am His daughter, and I am precious to Him.
What I do is (or at least ought to be) an extension of who I am. A result. Because I am saved by His grace.
I always knew this was true. I knew that the most important part of my identity was in Christ. If you had asked me, I would have told you so.
But I never felt the need to believe it the way I have in the past months. Because there was always another society-preferred answer to give. I am a graduate student. I am an Assistant Hall Director on campus. I am an academic adviser.
"I am a stay-at-home-mom" gets such mixed reactions that I allowed myself to feel invalidated, even though I adore my job.
What I was missing is that no one can take away who I am in Christ.
So the world can judge. Ask me "what I do all day" and try to look polite when I explain the seemingly inconsequential tasks that fill my day.
But I love what I do.
And more importantly, I love who I am in Him.

updates and a fun fun giveaway!

First - truck on over to Simple Mom to check out her fabulous giveaway - but it ends on Monday the 25th, so hurry!

Second - my two days at work (Wed and Thurs) went very well. I was in for about 4 hours on Wednesday and nearly 7 yesterday - and although I'm so glad I don't have to do that every week (and it was only 11 hours!!) I am very grateful I got to do it at all. Here's a few choice words to describe my thoughts/reactions:

Rewarding. It was great to be back in the sense that I remembered I was good at my job. I was productive, efficient and effective - and I enjoyed it. I slid right back into the routine and was able to contribute to the team during a very busy 2 days.

Convicting. I think possibly one of the best medicines for a slightly-burnt-out stay-at-home-mama is to go to work for a day or two. I got a break, got to hang out with and talk to other adults about things that had nothing to do with babies... and I could not wait to get home and snuggle my little girl. I would never want to give up my role at home. I had to pull up our online photo page yesterday just to look at her little face. I re-realized what an absolute, unequivocal blessing it is to have my full-time title be Mama.

Reassuring. Most mamas know that their family depends on them for something (often many things) - but they often don't feel appreciated for what they do or necessarily grateful for that role. Both Mark and I make invaluable contributions to the Parenting Pot - and it was wonderful to be reminded that my role cannot easily be filled by anyone else. At any rate - I'm excited to start the work-from-home part of my project now, and not have to be back in the office again for a few months. I was really blessed by the whole experience - thanks for your prayers!

I want to leave you (and myself) with the verse I read on Wednesday before heading in to work (these are also the verses where the title of my blog originate). God really used these words to speak to me that morning, to remind me that His gift to me is the ability - my ability - to find the satisfaction in my work. Find it. Not that I will receive it, or have it dropped on my doorstep. But that when I look for it - it will be there.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him. Ecclesiastes 3:11-14

And to cap it all off - a few lovely pictures of the most darling baby girl I know:

Chewing on a cup with her two front teeth!!











Just laying around, looking lovely!

a wee bit on the nervous side

I go to work today.
Meaning I get in my car, drive, park, get out and walk into the office and work.
My old office - the one I left in February to become a Stay at Home Mama. Today, I change my role to Work at Home Mama with the Occasional Visit to the Office. I'm on the books for 10 hours a week (primarily from this very computer in my very own home) from now until the end of April.
I'm excited about it - regular adult interaction, some semblance of continuity on my resume, and reclaiming a teensy bit of identity outside my home life.
But I'm also nervous about it. I don't really want to leave Hazel to go to work - even for a few hours, even with her loving daddy. She still doesn't take a bottle or sippy cup or any drink other than straight from the Mama Source... which makes me nervous for her and how she'll do while I'm gone. It's been over 6 months since I've been an adviser and (I know this is stupid, but...) what if I'm too out of practice to be very helpful? And (this one is almost too embarrassing/ashaming to admit) I'm nervous that my husband will stay at home with Hazel and have a great day and be better at it than I am and more patient than I am and wonder what the heck is so hard about staying at home.
*sigh*
Really - I know today will probably go well. It will be good to be out and to visit with Professional Katie - a gal I knew well for many years but haven't seen in months. But I'm not that same person anymore, and I'm intrigued/nervous to see how God blends the new aspects of my character into the old.
If you get a chance - say a quick prayer. Mostly for peace of mind.
And a bit for my hubby - that our precious girl would be good to him, even without the Mama Source.

how to tell if the hazelnut is awake in her bed

And other tips and tricks for hanging out with my (almost) 6-month-old daughter.

The Hazelnut is a vocal gal - she's usually talking in her bed when she wakes up. But even if she lost her voice, you'd still know she's up by the steady thump-thump-thump of her bitty little feet pouding the mattress as she lays on her back and flails happily away. Honestly - the thumping is usually how I know she's up.
And the adorable popping noise of her baby hiccups.

If you're not her Mama or her Daddy, chances are HIGH that the Hazelnut will cry if you pick her up. Try not to be offended... she's just a little unsure right now. With time, a little space, and a relaxed environment, she will warm up. In the meantime, she does love to smile at people and giggles a LOT - so you can feel free to chat her up and play all you like... as long as Mama or Daddy is doing the holding. (One failproof way to get her to smile: Say her full name as though you're the sports announcer for the Chicago Bulls... Haaaazzelll Mmmmaaaaarrynnnn Buuuurleeeeeeeey!! She loves it!)

If you dress the Hazelnut in cute pink bootcut jeans, you may want to cry over the cuteness of it all. And the fact that she looks like such a teensy little Big Girl.

The Hazelnut is fast and strong - do not be fooled by the sweet, soft chubby hands... they are death-grip pincers that will rip the flesh from your bones, the lips off your face and the hairs from your head if given the chance. And if you leave the Hazelnut playing in the middle of the living room floor and come back 15 seconds later - she's probably under her swing, under the couch or at the top of the stairs... so for Heaven's sake - don't be gone for 16 seconds. Who knows what might happen!

Growing up is tough work, and due to the arrival of teeth in the Hazelnut's little mouth, she's been a bit out of sorts the past couple days. Please look past the drooling, fussing, gnawing and biting and enjoy the sweet, happy little critter underneath it all.

And above all - don't blink. The Hazelnut will suddenly be 6 months old if you turn around, and you'll find yourself struggling to remember what it was like when she was a wrinkly little newborn nut. (And let's be honest - being just a little bit glad that you can't really remember those days...)

it's like one of those rides at the fair

It's busy here. A little bit like a carnival ride that keeps spinning in circles and getting faster and faster (only - thankfully - without the I-Want-To-Vomit feeling).
About a year ago, we started the work of Finishing Our Basement. (For the record, "we" is always to be interpreted loosely when I am referring to the basement, as my involvement in "we" is usually some form of spectation. Is that even a word?) It's unfortunate that I was pregnant when the project began, and now in charge of keeping a baby alive and well as it wraps up because let me tell you - the project is sorely missing out on my handy-woman skillz. Ha.
At any rate - Mark has been diligently pouring himself into the project the past few weeks as we not-so-suddenly find ourselves against a deadline.
Our friend Meredith will be doing her year (yup, a full year) of student teaching at a nearby elementary school, and she'll be moving into our house. On Saturday. Four days from now.
I'm so excited for her to come, so excited for the basement to be done, so excited for the year up ahead... but it's been rough getting there.
Mark is struggling to complete projects he's never attempted before. We've been blessed with friends, family and neighbors who have some expertise and a lot of willingness to lend a hand. Mark is working hard, being humbled and learning a ton. I know he's not exactly having fun right now - but I think he's proud of himself. I'm proud of him. The basement looks beautiful. And what's more - he's not complaining. He vents frustration once in awhile - but he is working hard every night... and he's not complaining.
I've been struck lately by how often we find ourselves in these situations - a goal or a deadline of some sort presents itself... we want to get there but feel so unprepared and unqualified... the process of learning, accepting help, trying, screwing up and dusting ourselves off mostly just stinks... but in the end - there are good things waiting.
I know my process is far from complete. I have so much to learn, so much set before me. But I also see good things. Sprinkled everywhere throughout my life. I'd hate to miss a single one because I was so busy whining about how hard the road was to get here.

lest you get the wrong idea...

Most of the time, I try very hard to take an open & honest approach to my blogging.
That is to say - I am open & honest about the topics I meticulously select for sharing from the vast expanse of my day-to-day experiences. I decide which parts of my life to crack into, which insecurities, dreams and musings to share... and which things to leave out.
This isn't a bad thing, as some things should/must remain private - but I do feel a bit guilty sometimes that the pictures painted with virtual brushstrokes are somehow... shall we say, digitally enhanced versions of the truth.
So I'm here tonight to shatter your illusions of my home life. Mary C seems to think I have it all together, but I don't. Not anymore than anyone else does - probably a little less. (Note: These pictures were not planned ahead - and I didn't change a thing in the rooms as I trumped around the house taking photos... in fact, I had a baby on my hip and the camera in my other hand, so this is as real as it gets).
Here is the room in which I am currently sitting, typing away:









There are stacks of books, Rubbermaid bins both full and empty, and enough yarn for me to crochet myself into my nineties.
This is my daughter's room, where she is currently (Lord willing) falling asleep:









Note her daddy's guitar, the basket of dirty laundry, the pile of toys on the futon and the floor-blanket that is now a necessity for the rolling-every-which-way baby. And of course, the pink & white doggy. In the middle of the floor.
This is my room, which shockingly, is in decent shape today (although there are laundry baskets - this time full of clean laundry - and pictures leaning against the wall that remain unhung for the 5th year running):









And this is our closet (eek) - I cleaned out my portion recently, which is toward the front (and NOT on the floor), and as you can see, I still have quite enough clothing to be getting on with.












The kitchen is also in decent shape - although some dishes need to be put away, and mercifully, the wide angle of this shot does not pick up the crumbs on the floor and counters.









You may have noticed by now that my hubby and I have some issues with being actual adults, and our house looks a bit like the inside of a crayon box. It's our own little rebellion.
And we end our tour in the living room:









Again, the blanket & toys on the floor... boppy, books and TV remotes on the couch... baby carrier flung over the recliner... I feel like we're playing "Where's Waldo?" (big bonus points if anyone actually finds a Waldo in these pictures).
So there you have it. A peek into my house - and my not-so-together life as it stands on an average Wednesday night.
Thanks for visiting!

a question for the over-achiever, perfectionist types

My whole life (okay, maybe not WHOLE... but at least since high school) I've preferred to be busy. I'm a multi-tasker-perfectionist with an uncanny ability to procrastinate. Those may seem like contradicting forces... and, well, they really are.
But that's proven helpful to me over the years - staying busy keeps me from procrastinating too much because I have to get my butt in gear if I want to get things done. And the Perfectionist-Over-Achiever-Katie definitely wants to get things done. And Procrastinator-Katie keeps me from killing myself with doing too much at once.
Here's my current dilemma (I alluded to this in my last post):
I was always a pretty busy gal. In high school, it was dance, NHS, musicals & plays, tennis, youth group, work, and the other standard teenage-girl pursuits of shopping and talking on the phone. Undergrad had me in some clubs (on the E-Board of one), pursuing 2 degrees at once, being an RA in the residence halls, belonging to a home group in my church, and other standard college-girl pursuits such as shopping and talking on the phone. By grad school I was married, juggling classes and my job as an assistant hall director in the residence halls, and after grad school I was working full-time, taking care of our new house and leading (with my husband) for YoungLife/WYLdLife in our area (and still shopping and talking on the phone occasionally). I've always had a full calendar. Until now.
Mark is still a YL leader. Any of you who have been in almost any type of ministry (but especially those with kids, I think) know that you always feel like you could/should be doing more. His schedule in the fall will include regular meetings at least 3 nights a week, along with appearances at sporting events and fun, spontaneous social activities with our high school friends. On top of work.
Here's my problem: Although I often felt completely inadequate and out-of-my-element as a YL leader, I love the kids I've gotten to know (girls I've known since they were in 6th grade are now in driver's training, heading into 10th grade - eek!). I miss seeing them regularly. I loved the toughness of the job, and the incredible harvest I reaped when I did not let myself grow weary of doing good. I was serving Christ in a real, tangible, sacrificial way.
I don't lead anymore. I stopped about two months before Hazel was born because I knew it would be too much for me. I wanted to focus on my family... but....I am having the darndest time shaking the feeling that I should be doing more. That I should be the SuperMama who is knee-deep in some kind of ministry and has a perfect house and is out and about and doing things. I've struggled with this kind of feeling before, and I really don't think it's from God. I think Satan is able to pinpoint my weaknesses and use them in such sneaky ways... I wind up feeling so defeated.
Being a stay-at-home-mama is so much more than I ever thought it would be. It is so much cooler, so much harder, so much more fun, so much more boring, so much more challenging... so much more. I know this job is important. I want to do it - and I know how blessed am I to be able to do it.
I guess my question is... how do you know when to let yourself "just" (haha) be Mama? And how do you do that?? Don't get me wrong - I like keeping my house organized, providing a clean & pretty home for my family, cooking, baking... it's all good. I know it's valuable. I'm just not used to having that be my focus. Why does my brain keep telling me that it's not enough to do those things?
I don't know how much sense this post is making... but any input, advice or encouragement you could provide is welcome, friends.

hodge-podge, cornucopia, mish-mosh... whatever you want to call it

A little bit of everything and a lot of nothing... but there's always something. My life kinda feels that way these days - so I thought I'd throw in a post that was a reflection of that.
First - an update on my 40 Days of Learning Very Simple Lessons:

1. God's Word is the very best thing for me. Okay - I've been doing much better with this. Still not quite where I want it to be, but I think that's partly because I need some accountability and someone to talk things through with. (see number four)
2. Less is more. I'm proud of myself here. I've cleaned (pretty thoroughly, at least for me) out my closet and dresser drawers, and there are bags (I will not say how many, as I am embarrassed about my clothing habit) ready to be donated. It's liberating to not have so many choices, and to actually be able to fit all my clean clothes into some sort of home. As opposed to letting my clean laundry sit in a basket because it's too hard to put it away. Ahem. I've also tackled the kitchen pantry, and some bits in our guest room. Our house is in a major transition right now (finishing the basement) so a lot of stuff is out-of-place... I can't wait to get rid of more stuff!
3. Structure is good (at least for me) My Home Management Binder is coming along nicely - I like having a place to keep my "stuff" - lists and goals and coupons and calendars... all in one place. I'm still not totally used to using it yet, but I'm getting there.
4. (added after a Very Simple Lesson the next day) We were made for community. Oh, I could probably use some work here. It's hard... right now, the two people I would consider to be my "best" friends live in different states... IL and NY. One or two other people live in MI, but not exactly close - get-togethers require planning and driving at least 30 minutes most of the time. I have a large number of people here who fall into the friend/pleasant acquaintance/still getting to know each other so it almost feels like we're dating categories... but not people I know well, who know me well... I know that stuff takes time, but it's so hard. For me at least. I'm an independent gal, and I like to feel/look like I have it together (a WHOLE OTHER issue for a whole other post...) so it takes me awhile to get to the point where I'm willing to let my guard down and be really honest with someone. And right now, I need a few more people in my life that fit that category. I'll be praying on this one. Sometimes, it's easier just to cover up a little bit.

PHEW.
IF you're still with me... this morning, Hazel and I trudged heaved walked our second 5K... on a golf course... without a paved route... through lush, thick green grass which had been recently watered. Let's just say that I'm totally proud that I finished off-roading a stroller with an almost 6-month-old baby for 3.1(ish) miles in 51 minutes. Without collapsing. And now, I feel kinda like this:




I've also recently become convicted (albeit very slowly - convicted is a word that has urgency to it... mine was a long, drawn-out hearing with a jury that deliberated for days weeks before arriving at a conviction) that I need to ease up. On myself. As a mama. I know many of you have your own perfectionist tendencies, and I know what you're dealing with. This is the toughest job I've ever had, with the most at stake. I want to do it well. But I also want to have fun and enjoy the ride...
And that means that I need to relax in a few other areas... but this post is already waay too long, so that will have to be another chat.
Thanks for hanging in there with me.

giveaway!

I swear I'll post an update on my 40 days very soon, but in the meantime - check out this giveaway!
Get FREE BumGenius cloth diapers! (these are what I use most often, and I l*o*v*e them!)

chance of showers

About two weeks ago, I proudly declared to my husband that I had skills on par with a professional plumber. I, by myself, with no help, ALONE - had installed the world's easiest idiot-proof Very Difficult and Complicated diaper sprayer in our guest bathroom.
Because nothing says welcome like a gadget made to help rinse baby poop down the drain.
Okay, so no tools were involved. And the sprayer came with a delightful set of illustrated & labeled instructions which make everything very simple. But still - there is a sense of accomplishment felt when one disconnects plumbing-type hoses & fixtures and puts them back together in a slightly different way... and everything WORKS.
This morning, I had my first chance to use the handy-dandy diaper sprayer (I was traveling and not feeling the extra laundry last week, so disposables won out until yesterday). It worked well, but I thought it could use a bit more oomph behind its spray. I tweaked the little knobby-doodad on the toilet (don't know what it's called, but I know it adjusts the water pressure) and decided to check the new oomph-level. I was holding the sprayer about a foot away from my face, pointed directly into the bowl.
Or so I thought.
A half second later found me kneeling on the bathroom floor and spluttering, having just sprayed myself directly in the face. Right between the eyes. Seriously, I shoulda been a sharp-shooter in the Wild West.
The oomph-level, by the way, is just fine.
Yup, I'm basically a professional plumber. Let me know if you require my services... my fees are reasonable.

jiggety jigg

Home again, home again.
The baby girl was a trooper-superstar-angel-sweetheart for me on the drive to and from my parents' house this week. I was so nervous - the trip is usually 3.5-4 hours in good traffic (which you never know if you're going to get between mid-Michigan and Chicagoland), and I've never attempted it Solo With Child before. Those of you that have heard the dulcet tones of my daughter's voice know - that trip had the potential to fry my poor, addled mama brains.
But she was great.
Lots of prayer, good timing, great traffic and some more prayer - and we're back home after 4 lovely days with my family - all in one piece, sanity (relatively) intact.
However, the Hazelnut is in full-blown teething mode... bringing with it a whole new level of motherhood joy. We're back in the Land of Sleep in Three Hour Increments. I haven't been in the LoSiTHI since Hazey was about 6 weeks old... I didn't miss it.
She's asleep now (praise God) and I'm about to go shut my eyes too.
There's more to say - it just needs to wait for a bit.
It's good to be back.

joy

6:45 am
I can feel the warm, summer-morning sun through my closed eyelids - it's pouring into my bedroom like a golden waterfall.
I feel a gentle stirring beside me on the bed, and tiny, warm little feet begin to "walk" their way up my belly.
I peel back my sleepy eyelids and pull my surroundings into focus.
Disheveled covers, no husband (he left for YoungLife camp last night), pillows everywhere and a gentle breeze is billowing the sheer white curtains in and out, in and out. Right arm tucked under my pillow, I see that nestled into the space created between my arm and my body, lies my daughter.
Sparkly blue eyes alight with baby laughter and delight are watching me, and my breath catches in my chest. As soon as our eyes meet, her face breaks into a gorgeous, toothless, drooly grin... and I grin right back.
Today, my baby is 5 months old. It is a heartbeat and it is a lifetime. I pray for many, many more months to come. And I pray that I appreciate the blessing of this little woman in my life. My husband has gone to camp with his young disciples... and I am at home with mine.

(Hazel and I will be traveling this week in the absence of our Man of the House, and probably not posting much!)

made for this

God made us in His image. This, I'm quite sure, brings with it a few very specific character traits/needs/desires. Last night, I was struck by how wired we are for community. How God made us that way.
Standing in our church's lobby, chatting with people as we passed each other by... it was so exactly what I needed. I stood with a couple other new mamas, and a couple more-experienced mamas with new babies... and I found comfort, laughter and community. There's really nothing like standing in God's house, talking with friends - it feels so full.
Some people are naturally extraverted. They don't need reminders that community is good, that being with people can be so. good. for your soul. My dear husband is one of those people. He loves being with people and seeks to fill our days and our home with community. It's a good thing.
Some people, however, are more inclined to introversion - and they need to be sent a memo every once in awhile. Now I'm pretty sure I'm 50/50 - I'm extraverted in the sense that I tend to focus on others, but introverted in that I don't go out of my way to surround myself with groups of people. My relaxing time tends to be quiet and solo.
And thus, I fall into the category of Those Who Need a Memo. Which, I would be willing to bet, is one of the reasons God matched up me and Mark as a team.
Perhaps God is dropping the hint that I need to add Seek Out Community to my list of Very Simple Lessons...

food for thought

I generally view myself as an intelligent woman. I "get" things, know some stuff, and have a decent memory.
Or so I thought.
Lately, I've been struck again and again at how often I am re-learning Very Simple Lessons. Why do they not stick the first second twelfth thirty-second time I come across them??
Because my human-ness takes over. I let it take over.
My ability to lay around and twiddle away an afternoon overpowers my desire to get my home organized...
My tendency to procrastinate when a job is less than desirable beats up on my sincere wish to get things done...
And my selfish, what-about-me? mentality has an uncanny knack for stepping all over my craving to spend time with the Lord and seek His face.
I've been taking baby steps (ever since my rant about the house closing in on me) toward conquering (or at least minimizing) some of these tendencies. I know that I can do it. I've kicked the snot out of bad habits before.
Here are Three Very Simple Lessons I want to "get." I mean really GET.

1. God's Word is the best thing for me. I know this already - I just don't always live like I know it. So I'm going to put my Bible on/near the couch (my usual nursing spot) and pick it up every chance I get while feeding Hazel.
2. Less is more. My house is full of stuff. So much excess... it's starting to make me sick. Not just because it's cluttery, but because it's so material. I don't want things to be the focus of my days - and it's much easier to achieve that when there are fewer things to manage/clean/pick up/take care of. I'm going to go through, room by room, and purge. At least a surface-level purge.
3. Structure is good (at least for me). I need concrete tasks. I love lists. Goals are great. I've started putting together a Home Management Notebook (thanks, SimpleMom!) I need some time to get it fully-functioning and organized, but I think it will help me keep track of some of those goals, lists and concrete tasks I relish so much.

And so, I'm committing to 40 days of focusing on learning these Very Simple Lessons. Starting today, July 11th, and ending on August 19th. I'll try to keep you posted on the progress as I go along - not so much that anyone out there cares that much about my inability to grasp Very Simple Lessons, but that it helps me to feel accountable.
Thanks for listening, internets.
Oh, and yes, that is my Very Grown-Up Daughter eating rice cereal for the first time. She's still a little iffy on the whole concept, but for a variety of reasons, we need to get her comfortable with eating cereal by, oh - about August 19th. More on that later.

where to start?

I feel as though my house is closing in on me.
When we moved in 4 years ago, we were coming from a one-bedroom, graduate assistant apartment in a residence hall. It totalled maybe 550 square feet. There was NO WAY I'd ever be able to fill the rooms and closets of this gigantic, enormous, monster-sized, almost-1,300 square foot house!
Fast forward to today.
Closets = Overflowing
Bedrooms = Overflowing
Basement = Overflowing
Garage = You guessed... overflowing. With creepy, dirty garage things.
I want so badly to get organized around here. I want to donate the things we don't use but someone else could. I want to scrap/throw away/recycle the stuff that we don't use and no one else could either. I want fewer things, less clutter.... and I have NO IDEA how to start.
That's not true.
I have dozens upon dozens of ideas on how to start. I just need to figure out where. The task in my head is mammoth. I need something smaller than mammoth... something more like squirrel or pygmie goat.
Right now, my head is swimming with menu planning, closet organization, recycling systems, clothing donations and coupon organizers. I want to do it all. Immediately. (Not a good idea, I know). I've visited fabulous blogs and websites with great, practical tips. I just need to pick one and run with it for a bit.
This is what happens to my head when my baby wakes up at 4:20am and doesn't go to sleep again until 7:30. When Mama is wide awake.

anyone seen a circus nearby?

If you HAVE seen a circus, and they're looking for a Bald Woman, let me know. My daughter has made it her personal mission to pull out of my head every. single. hair. that is within the reach of her oh-so-sweet-and-innocent-looking but pincerlike chubby hands. As I prize wads of hair out of her little fists, eyes watering, I figure I could at least turn my newest physical, um, attribute to my advantage by joining the cirucs.
I jest. I'd totally settle for a county fair.

Seriously, the girl, she is full of tricks these days. She wakes up (usually a bit before Mama wants her to) sing-screeching happily in her crib (until she deems she has waited long enough, then the sing-screech turns a bit sour). ANYthing that comes in range of her hands is grabbed and shoved into her mouth, along with her fingers (on which she often chokes)... and the sing-screeching continues around objects and hands. The toes are new favorite playthings, and although they haven't quite made it to her mouth yet, they do provide hours minutes of entertainment.



She has had her first dip in the pool - and did great. We're thinking the 2028 Summer Olympics. Mark your calendars. (Ignore the faceless Mama in the picture. If her hair wasn't half gone, she might consider appearing in the picture. In her bathing suit. On her blog. Okay, not true - she's totally glad you can't see her face.)

We'll be on a little hiatus for the holiday weekend. Enjoy yourselves, stuff yourself silly on jello, potato salad and hotdogs, and try to dodge any rogue fireworks.