Strayed.
March 9, 2010 | Filed Under Musings | 9 Comments
I’m not happy with the blog. I feel like I’ve strayed from myself. It wasn’t on purpose, certainly. My life apart from the blog is the same way.
I feel like I haven’t been true to myself. Maybe it’s this almost 30 thing. Or that I’ve been squeezing myself into a mold of what I think I’m suppose to act/feel/be like.
I’ve almost finished reading a book that has given validity to thoughts and beliefs that have been swirling around in my head for years now. I’m feeling like I’ve been given permission to question the foundations that my life has been built on. Are they sure? Will they stand under my questions? Are they right? Or have I been living on them just because that’s what everyone around me tells me is right. There is a shifting going on.
My blog has been around for nearly three and a half years now. That’s quite a long stretch of time for this average girl to be broadcasting her average life. And to have anyone take time to read the words! I love having this place where I can come and write down my family’s every day, every days; a place to put my thoughts, my dreams, my photos. I love to ask you questions and I am thrilled when you share your opinions. I thrive on all of this.
But… the blog feels fluffy.
And I’m not really into fluffy. All the time, anyways. Some fluff is good. I mean, seriously, rice krispies treats are made with fluff and baby, do I love them! But, if all I ate was rice krispies treats, I’d wither up and die. I need real food. Good, healthy, balanced foods.
I don’t really know where to go from here. I hate not having a resolution. I do know that I am going to concentrate on being more true to myself. I’m going to keep asking the tough questions and figure out who I really am.
That’s a good start, I say.
Sorting.
August 11, 2009 | Filed Under Eliza Dove, Musings, Photos | 18 Comments
I am a thinker. I think and think and think. Sometimes I think things to death.
Yesterday as I was driving home from a (massive) grocery shopping trip, I was thinking. I was thinking about becoming a little bit older; not that late twenties is really very old, just a little bit older. I was thinking that it is interesting how I am starting to accept certain quirks and ways that I have about me. I’ve stopped beating myself up for acting in a specific way or trying to change something about my personality because it doesn’t fit in the perfect mold.
Take for example: I hate math. I am bad at math. My brain hates math. People who aren’t naturally good at math are sometimes looked on as not as smart. That has irritated me in the past but I am now accepting that I will never be a math whiz. And when Eve (who is a math whiz) needs help with her math homework, I will be sending her to her father for help. And that is okay!
Another thing, I am terribly afraid of thunderstorms. I know, I know, I should love them! They are spectacular! Loud! Fun! But, I hate them. When Daniel is home, I run to him and he holds me. Or, if we are in bed, I press my body into his and cover my ears. I have had to work very hard at not showing my fear of thunderstorms to my children. The approach I took worked well because they have absolutely no fear. In fact, they, as a general rule, ignore the storms. And if the storm is at night, they never wake up. They sleep right through, windows wide open or otherwise. When I was a child, I was instantly in my parents bed at the first clap of thunder, quaking with fear!
I am not a details person though I’ve pretended to be with no success. I am a total romantic. I have an all or nothing personality. I am wild about color. I have germ issues. I’m a walker not a runner. I hate raw tomatoes on anything other than a sandwich. I have a pillow but don’t sleep on it. All I have ever truly wanted is to be a wife and a mother (there are other goals too but none quite as important). I am not a t.v. watcher (but love movies!) or a bike rider; I dislike sleeping in a tent and I hate my uneven lips.
All of these things (there’s plenty more, believe me!) are what make Andrea, Andrea. I have been sorting through my feelings, through what really matters to me. Is it what people think of me? Or can I be okay with being Andrea – quirks, idiosyncrasies, labels, imperfections and all?
And you know, I think that I’ll just be okay with being Andrea. It’s a lot more work not to be.
Eliza did a little sorting of her own yesterday. Sorting beans, that is…
Uh, oh… she said, after a bean escaped her chubby little fingers.
Happiness for Eliza is sorting. And she’s okay with that…. ha!
Being Green-ish…
July 24, 2009 | Filed Under 26 week deployment and alphabet adventure!, Eve, Military Life, Musings, Photos | Comments Off
As you well know, the kids and I are working our way through the alphabet during Daniel’s deployment. While my original intention was to buy the big, chunky letters from Lakeshore, it occurred to me that I can create my own letters!
I am not at all crafty but I can cut out an alphabet letter from a piece of cardboard, right?! Well, kinda. The letter “A” was rather tall and skinny because of the weird size the Rice Dream box was that I cut it from…
The letter “B” was rather wonky and had grease spots because I used a pizza box top…
“C” is just downright boring.
But hey! I’m saving money and being semi-green. Plus, the letters have character. And I am all about the character. I have to admit, I am nervous about cutting out some of the letters. Our imaginations may need to be employed.
Here’s to finishing out “C” week well! Chocolate cake is in our very near future…
If You Do Say So Yourself….
July 17, 2009 | Filed Under Musings, Photos | 9 Comments
I don’t have a lick of decorating sense in me. Not a lick.
For some people (my amazing mother-in-law) it seeps out of their pores. Their very touch is magical. They look at something, anything, and suddenly it is transformed into perfection.
Me? Not so much. So I subscribe to the theory that less is more. And if I can’t make something out of nothing, well then, I will accessorize the nothing. With flowers.
Flowers are my fall back. My fail-safe. If I can’t make something look good on it’s own I throw some fresh flowers at it.
And so we have my kitchen table….
My great grandfather’s heavy dining room table, a handmade, vintage table cloth found at a garage sale for four dollars, my great-grandmother’s passed down Peter Pots vase, and some bright pink snapdragons.
All of that combined makes for a peaceful table.
And I comfort myself with the knowledge that even though I can’t decorate, I can cook. And bake. And I have an overwhelming amount of really fantastic ideas swirling around in my brain… just don’t ask me to carry them out, ok.
See, I am great at some stuff, if I do say so myself.
What are you great at…. if you do say so yourself?
The Why’s of Personalities…
July 9, 2009 | Filed Under Judah, Musings, Photos | 16 Comments
Andrea has a question for the people who are much smarter than she is…
Why is it, as a mother, I struggle most with the child it is most similar to me in personality?
Is it because his behavior models my behavior which consequently brings to light all the things about myself that I struggle with? Is it because the expectations I have for myself are suddenly thrust on my child and he is unable to live up to them? Is it because he knows just how to push my buttons? Or is it simply because he’s three and I am reading too much into things?
This afternoon I took all three of the kids outside to berry pick. Eve had been begging and pleading to go outside to pick berries. I consented and out we went; Eve took off to the swing set immediately, singing songs at the very tip-top of her lungs. Eliza was content to be wherever the action was which turned out to be was where Eve was. And Judah, my little three year old man, stuck to my heels, mason jar in hand, picking berries with intensity. He didn’t eat any while picking (I never do either) and stuck to his job, happy as could be.
I started thinking about the way things are with regards to my children, birth order, personality, and temperament…
Eve, she is a tough one for me to read. She has many first child tendencies but she throws me for a loop with a lot of things. You’d think she would have been the one picking berries, not allowing herself to get distracted by anything. But she was the free-spirit, swinging and singing without a care in the world.
And then there is Judah, my second child and only boy. He is so similar to me in personalty, temperament, ability to handle stress… but decidedly not looks. He acts more like a first born in so many ways. It confuses the crap out of me.
For some reason this afternoon’s berry outing got me contemplating as to the reasons why he and I struggle the most in our relating. Why is it this way when we are so similar? Why is it I can’t remember to relate to him in the way I would like to be related to? It should be so easy but it’s not.
I am certainly not qualified to be answering any of these questions. But maybe you are? Or maybe you struggle with the same thing. It would be nice not to feel alone. It would be nice to have some clarity. But mostly to be able to love and relate to him even better and in the right ways.
Smelling Good…
June 29, 2009 | Filed Under Eliza Dove, Musings, Uncategorized | 16 Comments
Last week while in Walmart I bought Judah some “Boy” body wash. The same one that Daniel uses, Dial “Magnetic” (you know I razzed him about the magnetic part every day!).
Today I saw the bottle sitting on the shelf while I was in the shower. I totally used some.
I catch a whiff of myself every once in awhile and it’s a comforting smell. You won’t laugh at me for smelling like a guy, will you?
Have I ever told you the (famous) crib story?
June 16, 2009 | Filed Under Deployment, Eliza Dove, Judah, Musings, Photos | 15 Comments
I’ve been cold-hearted with preparing for this move. I’ve thrown away, given away, generally gotten rid of… precious baby clothes, cards and letters, drawings from my kids, my high school diploma, a beloved hockey stick, the toy box, luggage, the rocking chair I nursed all three kids in, pottery… you name it, I’ve gotten rid of it.
But the one thing that broke my heart to leave behind was Eliza’s crib. Maybe the reason is because I know she’s my last baby and she is still little enough to need her crib. Or maybe because she adores her crib. Perhaps because it signifies that we are really leaving; the crib was the last piece of furniture to go.
Either way, I about lost it when Daniel started disassembling. Poor Eliza kept trying to lay on it. And when that didn’t work, she tried putting it back together. I had to leave the room.
The funny thing is, the crib was free; it held no long-standing, sentimental value other than it was my sweet baby girl’s place to lay her head.
The story of how I came to be the owner of this particular crib is a slightly interesting and totally providential…
Judah was still using his crib when I was pregnant and nearly due with Eliza. Daniel and I had waited on obtaining a crib until the last minute in hopes that Judah would be ready for a regular bed. But, reaching that milestone was not to be and I was not going to push him. As a woman about to pop with her third baby in four years, I desperately needed my son to continue with his good napping schedule!
One cold, rainy Sunday afternoon in December I headed to the Once Upon a Child store we had in Williston, Vermont in search of a crib. I was walking up to the door of the store when I noticed someone was trying to get my attention. I turned and saw a man waving his arms in the air while getting out of his car; as he got closer he (somewhat desperately) asked me if I needed a crib. Apparently my pregnant belly gave me away. I (skeptically) said yes, indeed I did need a crib. He told me the store had too many cribs and wouldn’t take the one he had brought in to sell. And if he brought it back home his wife was going to “kill him.”
We walked around to his trunk so he could show me the crib… it was beautiful, simple, and best of all, had a drawer underneath. Oh was that man ever grateful when I said that I would be happy to take the crib. I think that maybe he wasn’t lying about his wife….! He loaded everything up into my trunk and as he was walking away he enthusiastically informed me that it was a famous crib. Ooh, la, la! I’m not one that is much interested in fame and such but apparently this particular crib had been used by his friend’s baby. And his friend was the drummer for the band Phish. I tried to act impressed though I am sure I fell short.
All I know is that I loved that crib, famous or not. I remember standing next to it watching my tiny baby girl sleep. She was so little and the crib so big. Now she takes up about half of the bed! So why did we get rid of it? Well, once we move back to New Mexico from New York, Eliza will be two and I’m sure, ready for a regular bed.
Sigh.
These kids… they just insist on growing up, don’t they? Little stinkers….
Owning My Body?
May 25, 2009 | Filed Under Musings | 17 Comments
From what I have noticed and read and seen, the big thing right now is “owning your body.” Proclaiming that it is beautiful and strong and perfect just as it is.
Oh yeah?
To be honest, I’m not sure I’m buying what they’re sellin’.
I don’t love my body. Yeah, it supported and gave life three times. It keeps me chuggin’ along, healthfully. But it is far from perfect. I don’t like all the soft hills and valleys. My chest is non-existent, my thighs are puffy, and I’ve got some junk-in-my-truck.
What is there to love about all that?
Swim suit season really drives it all home.
Really? We must don very small pieces of cloth… leaving not much to the imagination? And then get it wet and really leave not much to the imagination?
It just seems cruel.
I sat on the edge of the pool today, looked around, and saw it all. It seemed to me that the ones that didn’t need to be covering it up were. And the ones that, quite honestly, did, were not.
I was a little envious of the non-covering crowd. I would like that kind of confidence… the confidence to not care. But, this mama of three kids who needs to work out wa-a-a-a -y more regularly and not indulge in so much bacon, does not have it.
I eventually did strip down to just my bathing suit but it wasn’t easy.
I kept looking longingly at my dress, wishing it was on my body again.
Will I ever get to that place of “owning my body?” Do the people who proclaim they “own their body just as it is” really do? Is it bad that I don’t like my body? Should I care that much what other people think of my thighs?
Anyways…
My name is Andrea and I don’t “own my body.”
I just needed to get that off my non-exisitent chest.
Graduation!
May 21, 2009 | Filed Under Eve, Life Stuff, Musings, iHeartFaces | 15 Comments
Eve is graduating Kindergarten today! She is very, very excited. She stumbled into my room at 6:41 a.m. and loudly proclaimed that she HAD to graduate today.
Really, nobody should loudly proclaim anything at 6:41 a.m.
But yes, she must graduate today. The graduation will be complete with cap and gown (why must they do that to us parents? I’d rather skip out of the glimpse of Eve at 18, thankyouverymuch.) and I am sure some sort of tear-jerking something that sums up the Kindergarten year.
And the hits just keep on coming.
I am going to miss having a Kindergartner; first grade seems so..so.. grown-up. But, I only have to wait two years and I will be re-living the, mom of a Kindergartner, life. And then two years after that…. again. The tears will really roll then!
Kindergarten has been a good year for Eve. Boy, did she ever thrive! Our girl loves to learn. And she is good at it too.
Eve is so much like me (but much smarter) in that she tows the line… she received only two “minutes” which are a measure of discipline (each “minute” is one minute sitting out of recess) the entire year. And one was because she had to use the bathroom during non-bathroom time. Eve is a good girl.
This year Eve has learned to read, to write sentences, to do addition and subtraction, to tell time, learned all about the human body, our world, memorized tons of scripture… and on and on! It was a very full year.
Poor girl, she would fall into bed and night and be asleep almost immediately. Eve worked hard, played hard, and made us proud every day.
I am excited to have her home with me for the summer. Even though her Daddy will be gone, I am determined to make this a magical and memorable summer for her. I want her to have fun. These years of being little will be gone so soon, I want to fill up her memory bank with wonderful times.
Happy graduation day to my Eve! I’m happy for you! I’m really happy for me too that it’s not the “real” graduation day….
Diploma time…
Miss Chenault and Eve
Eve and her terrific principle. She truly loved all of the children.
Holy bright sun, man! Post-graduation in our coordinating dresses. So proud of my girl!
A Cup of Cold Water.
April 29, 2009 | Filed Under Musings | 30 Comments
A few Friday nights ago Daniel and I were headed home from perusing the dealerships in town, looking for a truck. We stopped at Walmart to pick up a few needed items.
Our Walmart, probably like your Walmart, has a Redbox station in the lobby. Daniel and I had talked earlier about renting “Australia” (big thumbs down) so we got in line; unfortunately, the guy in front of us was slowly scrolling though movies while on the phone talking with his significant other. We could tell the wait was going to be long. Too long.
*Sidenote: Decide what you want to rent before it’s your turn at the Redbox or move out of the way until you do. Can I get an “Amen?!”
Because of Mr. Rude and Indecisive, we decided to pick up our groceries first and then come back to the Redbox.
We went and got our milk and honey – the two things we needed. But, walking past the produce section, the strawberries seduced me, so I picked up a carton. (Isn’t that what Walmart is all about? Impulse buying?) We paid and headed back out to the lobby and the Redbox station.
As we walked into the lobby, we saw four guys… dressed all in black, big plugs in their ears, very dirty, carrying everything they owned on their backs with guitars by their sides.
After a quick perusal I knew that the guys weren’t “bad”… just dirty and different. I continued to covertly check the guys out while Daniel retrieved our movie. I surmised (to the best of my ability) that they were hitchhiking to California to live out a dream of making it big as a band.
In a moment my heart was a puddle. I know it sounds weird but I fell in love with them. They were young and excited, full of dreams too big for their hearts.
As I was waiting on Daniel to pick out our (bad) movie, my little box of strawberries suddenly became very obvious to me. Oh, how I wanted to offer that plastic carton of berries to the boys, but at the same time I didn’t want to offend them. I knew in my heart that if I didn’t take the chance and offer them the strawberries I would always regret it.
So, I dug out the box, walked the few steps over and asked if they would like some strawberries.
Yes! We would LOVE them, they said.
Phew. I smiled and handed them over.
By this time, Daniel had finished getting our movie (did I mention we thought it was not so good?) and was gathering up Judah. I thought I remembered that Daniel had some cash in his pocket – a very unusual thing since we primarily use our debit cards. I whispered my question of: Do you have some cash? He nodded and I could tell he knew what I wanted him to do.
And I am so glad that he didn’t even hesitate to give.
All night long those boys were on my heart. I prayed for them, I thought about them, I fretted over them. And I knew that somewhere those boys had mamas doing the same thing.
It occurred to me later that evening that Daniel and I had fleshed out this scripture, Matthew 24:34-40 in a very small but tangible way.
And that our kids saw it, and the other people in the lobby saw it, and the stuffy Walmart managers who came up to those boys and kicked them out, saw it.
And that Jesus saw it.
I didn’t care how rough those boys looked. I didn’t care that them smelled downright ugly. They needed love shown to them. The kind that overlooks all the seemingly bad and just loves unconditionally.
Jesus’ kind of love.
I will always be glad that in this little way, I let my hands move at the impulse of Jesus’ love.
Amazingly enough, I saw those boys the next morning. Daniel and I were back at a dealership once again looking at a truck. The boys were walking down the side of the road, heading west. I smiled and waved, and they waved back.
In that moment I was so thankful. Thankful that they were alive, thankful that I had bright red hair so they could recognize me and didn’t think that I was just some crazy lady flapping her arms around and yelling “HI!” for no reason (or maybe they did think that anyways??!!), and thankful that I hadn’t let the fear of offending them or what other people might think, win.
But mostly I was thankful that God had allowed me to see them one more time. He knew just what I needed and my heart was able to rest… I saw that those boys had big, warm looking sleeping bags strapped to their backs.
Allow your hands to move at the impulse of Jesus’ love. Never will you regret it.
Freedom to be Me
April 6, 2009 | Filed Under Musings | 17 Comments
I have been reading a lot about photography becoming real when one can see the photographer’s heart in the photos. I’ve looked at a lot of amazing pictures, pictures with heart. And I’ve wondered if I will ever be able to look at my own photos and say, I can see my heart and I am pleased.
There is a lot about photography that I love; one thing I appreciate is that there is no wrong style. In fact, what makes photography so intriguing, so captivating, so interesting, is the infinite amount of different styles. Your personal style isn’t right, it isn’t wrong, it’s your very own. And that is good!
I want to be me when I photograph. I don’t want to be copying someone else’s poses, what someone else thinks of as great lighting, someone else’s idea of the perfect photo.
There is so much to the art of photography that I don’t know. I plan on taking as many classes as I possibly can. I will change and develop, grow and mature in my picture taking. I will also keep taking a thousand pictures a week, throwing away nine hundred and ninety-nine of them and keeping the one that I love because it speaks to me.
So, how are you?
April 5, 2009 | Filed Under Musings | 30 Comments
“Hi! How are you?” she asked me.
“I’m really tired!” I replied.
“Goo… Oh!”
She laughed and then answered,
“Well, I’m really tired too!”
And just like that, in the middle of a busy elementary school hallway, we made a connection.
Driving home afterward, I reflected on the why’s and how’s on this very common question. It’s a simple question we get asked and ask all the time,
“How are you?”
I don’t know about you but this question has been bugging me for a long time. I think the reason why it bugs me is because I love honesty. I appreciate it. I expect it. I want to hear the truth.
The common practice, and it’s without even thinking, is when someone asks you, “How are you?” we answer, “Good!” and then carry on our merry little way. But you know, a lot of times, we aren’t good. We are decidedly something else.
Maybe tired, like I was. Maybe you are really mad. Or confused. Or sad.
Can you handle hearing the truth if someone was to answer your question of “How are you?” honestly? Do you have enough time in your day to find out why they are feeling like they are? Do you care?
Because I do.
So, I ask you today, “How are you?”
Will you tell me honestly?
I truly want to know.
