There is a problem with the cheap therapy that online outlets like Facebook and even little blogs like mine provide. You only see the pieces that I want you to see. And that really isn't a problem, at least for me it is not.
The problem comes in when people who utilize those things (FB, blogs, online versions of people) as a total view of who a person really is. Shoot, there are people who interact with me face to face and don't have a clue as to who I am.
So, here's the deal. This is for me. My FB status are for me. My blog posts are for me. NOT A ONE, is a cry for help. NOT A ONE is about you (at least directly; it may be about how you have pissed me off). NOT A ONE is about some sort of manipulation or back handed comment. Puh-lease! They are more like letting the narcissistic steam escape from the tupperware bowl that is my mind.
So let's review. In a nutshell, AAARRGGGHHHH.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
When is this part over?
I am ready for the next thing, whatever that is. It has got to beat this mountain I feel like I'm trying to climb. I told McGuyver today that I couldn't wait for this to be over. To which he replied, "What to be over?". Great. I am going nuts, the world is crazy, and I'm the only one clued in. That makes this even better. Send in the ice cream. And Doritos. Something tells me that I'm going to be here awhile.
I've done hard things before. I think I've just had such a long time since the hard things were in me that I feel sucker punched by this tough time.
A few people warned me that homeschooling was hard. One person warned me that this thing would leave me crying in the bathroom at least once a week(the rest apparently are a bunch of liars who were just trying to get me into the club). She told me that this wouldn't be hard in the you'll-be-with-your-kids-24/7 way. But more in the this will suck giant donkey balls because God-will-use-this-to-hold-up-the-wicked-witch-mirror-and-show-you-EVERY-flippin'-flaw-in-you-spirit way.
Except she didn't use the words "giant donkey balls" or "flippin'". And the Snow White analogy was mine too. The sentiment was all hers though. And she was right. And it is not just home school. Although being with these critters all day, trying to teach their minds, help to mold their souls, and not cuss, drink, or smoke too much behind the barn is hard, the totality of this emotional mess I'm in is about more than that.
It is about wading deeper into sacrifice, knowing that is what I am called to do, and wanting to be obedient, but at the same time listening to my flesh crawl as I see more of MINE, MINE, MINE given/taken away.
It is about needing to figure out how to navigate the waters of hard relationships that I don't want anymore, but can't figure out if I have the right to move away from.
It is about throwing myself a pity party on a regular basis (apparently I eat at these parties because I've picked up 10 pounds which are SOOOOOO helping the situation!). And then getting mad at myself for not just sucking it up and moving on.
It is about having to check that box that says "not employed" or fighting the urge to explain on medical forms that I am not "just" a stay at home mom or housewife and all of those feelings that brings up for me. It is about not being able to drag my selfish ass through Target and spend $100 arbitrarily and in my mind say "I make more than he does, so I don't have to explain anything to anyone". (Because yes, I AM or WOULD BE and HAVE BEEN that crazy woman)
I feel like I've faded and need to be outlined again (thank you ReliantK). And if you would be ever so kind as to use a sharpie and nip and tuck that outline in at the waist and be more generous in other areas that would be fab.
I found this verse today on a memory card that I neither memorized or even kept up with very well, and I know it is a start back up the mountain. All of this wallowing at base camp sure hasn't been working for me.
"But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved." Hebrews 10:39
Or...."Come and listen, all you who fear God; let me tell you what he has done for me. I cried out to him with my mouth; his praise was on my tongue. If I had cherished sin in my heart, the Lord would not have listened; but God has surely listened and heard my voice in prayer. Praise be to God, who has NOT rejected my prayer or withheld his love from me." Psalm 66:16-20
I've done hard things before. I think I've just had such a long time since the hard things were in me that I feel sucker punched by this tough time.
A few people warned me that homeschooling was hard. One person warned me that this thing would leave me crying in the bathroom at least once a week(the rest apparently are a bunch of liars who were just trying to get me into the club). She told me that this wouldn't be hard in the you'll-be-with-your-kids-24/7 way. But more in the this will suck giant donkey balls because God-will-use-this-to-hold-up-the-wicked-witch-mirror-and-show-you-EVERY-flippin'-flaw-in-you-spirit way.
Except she didn't use the words "giant donkey balls" or "flippin'". And the Snow White analogy was mine too. The sentiment was all hers though. And she was right. And it is not just home school. Although being with these critters all day, trying to teach their minds, help to mold their souls, and not cuss, drink, or smoke too much behind the barn is hard, the totality of this emotional mess I'm in is about more than that.
It is about wading deeper into sacrifice, knowing that is what I am called to do, and wanting to be obedient, but at the same time listening to my flesh crawl as I see more of MINE, MINE, MINE given/taken away.
It is about needing to figure out how to navigate the waters of hard relationships that I don't want anymore, but can't figure out if I have the right to move away from.
It is about throwing myself a pity party on a regular basis (apparently I eat at these parties because I've picked up 10 pounds which are SOOOOOO helping the situation!). And then getting mad at myself for not just sucking it up and moving on.
It is about having to check that box that says "not employed" or fighting the urge to explain on medical forms that I am not "just" a stay at home mom or housewife and all of those feelings that brings up for me. It is about not being able to drag my selfish ass through Target and spend $100 arbitrarily and in my mind say "I make more than he does, so I don't have to explain anything to anyone". (Because yes, I AM or WOULD BE and HAVE BEEN that crazy woman)
I feel like I've faded and need to be outlined again (thank you ReliantK). And if you would be ever so kind as to use a sharpie and nip and tuck that outline in at the waist and be more generous in other areas that would be fab.
I found this verse today on a memory card that I neither memorized or even kept up with very well, and I know it is a start back up the mountain. All of this wallowing at base camp sure hasn't been working for me.
"But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved." Hebrews 10:39
Or...."Come and listen, all you who fear God; let me tell you what he has done for me. I cried out to him with my mouth; his praise was on my tongue. If I had cherished sin in my heart, the Lord would not have listened; but God has surely listened and heard my voice in prayer. Praise be to God, who has NOT rejected my prayer or withheld his love from me." Psalm 66:16-20
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Gifts
Let me just be clear: If you ever get invited to a party FOR ME and it says "no gifts please" know that it is completely acceptable to bring one anyway.* (If you ever get invited to a party for my children and it says "no gifts please" know that I am completely serious and I will cut you if force me to add more plastic crap to our ever-growing collection).
I love gifts. Let's pretend that it is not because I am shallow but rather because it is one of my love languages. One of the best gifts that I've received recently is a jumbo pack of uber soft toilet paper (thanks Soccer Mom!). I'm a sucker for anything sparkly, even if it is only a pack of glitter. The biggest thing is just that you got me something because it said ME to you, not I-can-give-this-and-meet-the-obligation-of-giving.
My children are at that sweet age where they occasionally like to consider my happiness.
For instance,
Someone left me this in the half bathroom
I'm going to ignore the fact that this is the ONLY way I see possible for me to get an entire full bath for the foreseeable future.
And even the dog is pitching in. Look at how she is dismembering this Barbie.
And for my birthday the boys let me cut their hair anyway that I wanted to.
I also received a miniature plastic princess body in my shirt drawer. No head, no feet...just the body.
I like to think that my children are like Kitty Poo, the slightly deranged, possibly demonic cat my aunt once had. He would maim and bring forth small animals for my grandmother to find on the porch.
Maybe I should find another love language. This could go downhill quickly.
I love gifts. Let's pretend that it is not because I am shallow but rather because it is one of my love languages. One of the best gifts that I've received recently is a jumbo pack of uber soft toilet paper (thanks Soccer Mom!). I'm a sucker for anything sparkly, even if it is only a pack of glitter. The biggest thing is just that you got me something because it said ME to you, not I-can-give-this-and-meet-the-obligation-of-giving.
My children are at that sweet age where they occasionally like to consider my happiness.
For instance,
Someone left me this in the half bathroom
I'm going to ignore the fact that this is the ONLY way I see possible for me to get an entire full bath for the foreseeable future.
And even the dog is pitching in. Look at how she is dismembering this Barbie.
And for my birthday the boys let me cut their hair anyway that I wanted to.
I also received a miniature plastic princess body in my shirt drawer. No head, no feet...just the body.
I like to think that my children are like Kitty Poo, the slightly deranged, possibly demonic cat my aunt once had. He would maim and bring forth small animals for my grandmother to find on the porch.
Maybe I should find another love language. This could go downhill quickly.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Watch and See
Some of you have asked about where we are at in the foster care process.
Due north of nowhere.
Which means that I'm trying to say that we have made some progress.
We are about 90% done with everything we need to do before we sign, seal, and deliver it to the people who will knock the next domino over that will get us our home/safety inspection. The inspection is that last piece WE THINK in the certification process.
Although we like to think of ourselves as educated, even smart folks, we are not entirely educated about this whole process. We did not go about this blindly. Or completely blind. We asked questions. The problem was that the responses, when we got them, did not necessarily answer the question asked OR even remotely have anything to do with it.
Like this...
Q: We are interested in becoming foster parents, but we have questions. Can you help me?
A: No, I just answered the phone. Call back on Tuesday.
Or this...
Q: Hi. I've called before for information and I know that we will need X,Y, and Z eventually. Could I start on those parts of the process before the P part is done?
A: It will all be in the packet.
Q: Okay, how do I get a packet?
A: Do part X, Y, and Z.
Q: Where do I find part X, Y, and Z?
A: In the packet.
Q: Could you send me a packet?
A: Call back on Tuesday.
And we are so CERTAIN that this is the next step for us, that calling back on Tuesday was enough for us. One Tuesday led to a packet in the mail a week later. Another Tuesday call got us into a mandatory parenting class that was not supposed to meet until this coming spring. And so our life has been made up of Tuesday calls and baby steps forward.
It has been a little frustrating. Especially to a closet Type A person like me.
We have been able to put together bits of pieces of what we think we need, what we know we need, and have been working through the blasted packet. (it is at this point that I understand why someone told me early on that it would be easier to adopt from DSS than to foster; but right this second, we still feel called to stand in the gap of foster care)
Today I finally called back to the only person who has been remotely helpful and kind. One number didn't work and the other I had to leave a message at. I worked hard at not feeling defeated, had a handful of m&m's, and went back to folding laundry. While part of me is really getting antsy that everything is not done yet; the other part of me is chuckling saying, "Silly, girl. This was never going to go the way you planned it out. Just watch and see."
So we're waiting and watching. I think that we will meet our self imposed March 1 deadline to have all of our paperwork turned in and to be ready for our home/safety inspection.
Until then, after then, we'll just watch and see.....something tells me this story ends bigger and better than I ever could have dreamed.
Due north of nowhere.
Which means that I'm trying to say that we have made some progress.
We are about 90% done with everything we need to do before we sign, seal, and deliver it to the people who will knock the next domino over that will get us our home/safety inspection. The inspection is that last piece WE THINK in the certification process.
Although we like to think of ourselves as educated, even smart folks, we are not entirely educated about this whole process. We did not go about this blindly. Or completely blind. We asked questions. The problem was that the responses, when we got them, did not necessarily answer the question asked OR even remotely have anything to do with it.
Like this...
Q: We are interested in becoming foster parents, but we have questions. Can you help me?
A: No, I just answered the phone. Call back on Tuesday.
Or this...
Q: Hi. I've called before for information and I know that we will need X,Y, and Z eventually. Could I start on those parts of the process before the P part is done?
A: It will all be in the packet.
Q: Okay, how do I get a packet?
A: Do part X, Y, and Z.
Q: Where do I find part X, Y, and Z?
A: In the packet.
Q: Could you send me a packet?
A: Call back on Tuesday.
And we are so CERTAIN that this is the next step for us, that calling back on Tuesday was enough for us. One Tuesday led to a packet in the mail a week later. Another Tuesday call got us into a mandatory parenting class that was not supposed to meet until this coming spring. And so our life has been made up of Tuesday calls and baby steps forward.
It has been a little frustrating. Especially to a closet Type A person like me.
We have been able to put together bits of pieces of what we think we need, what we know we need, and have been working through the blasted packet. (it is at this point that I understand why someone told me early on that it would be easier to adopt from DSS than to foster; but right this second, we still feel called to stand in the gap of foster care)
Today I finally called back to the only person who has been remotely helpful and kind. One number didn't work and the other I had to leave a message at. I worked hard at not feeling defeated, had a handful of m&m's, and went back to folding laundry. While part of me is really getting antsy that everything is not done yet; the other part of me is chuckling saying, "Silly, girl. This was never going to go the way you planned it out. Just watch and see."
So we're waiting and watching. I think that we will meet our self imposed March 1 deadline to have all of our paperwork turned in and to be ready for our home/safety inspection.
Until then, after then, we'll just watch and see.....something tells me this story ends bigger and better than I ever could have dreamed.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Dear God (Psalm 62:8)
This was me a week ago:
Today I feel like vinegar. Or something equally as smelly and pungent.
I went to bed in a bad mood.
I woke up in a still not-good mood.
By 8:30 this morning I could tell it was going to be a struggle not to be a total bitch.
By 9:00 I had to remind myself that it is not fair to even think about taking out my anger/snarkiness on my kids (I wish I could say that I have never picked a fight with a kid so I "had a reason" to yell; at least I can say this hardly ever happens anymore).
By 9:30, when someone was nice to me, I almost started balling. Good thing was that she gifted me with toilet paper, so I at least had something to dab at my eyes with.
And although it went uphill from there, trust me, I felt every single jerk and chug of that little roller coaster car on the way up.
There are days like this. Everyone has them. Even the people who I'm sure don't have them, must. It is a human thing. Suckiness is the equalizer of life. (someone add that to a fortune cookie) But I want the way that I react to the suck to be different. I even cried out to God, "help me not be a bitch". Literally one of those, Damn, God, this is freakin' hard prayers. Yes, I pray like that. There are times when I am totally on my face in awe of the majesty of God. And there are others when I am maybe too chummy and do exactly what I feel like Psalm 62 tells me and I Trust in him at all times, O people, pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.
Somedays I feel more isolated then others. Sometimes that is just the way that life screams at me...lonely but not alone.
Tonight, one week later, is better. Each day has gotten better. Even the days that seem filled with nothing have been better in some way.
There has been no trick. There is no magic pill. There are still doubts and dumb hang-ups. There has been decisive action and prayer on my part and lots of divine intervention and butt kicking on God's.
I've gone back over this week and looked at stuff I wrote and prayed and felt 6 months ago, a year ago. I've realized that just last month made a decade since I truly started this race toward the only thing that matters. I know I am changed. I know that God is not only powerful, but sovereign and just and that above all, He's got this.
So I'll keep crying out, knowing that I have a Safe House when the days are hard and my heart is hurt or mean or lonely or just a plain bitch.
Today I feel like vinegar. Or something equally as smelly and pungent.
I went to bed in a bad mood.
I woke up in a still not-good mood.
By 8:30 this morning I could tell it was going to be a struggle not to be a total bitch.
By 9:00 I had to remind myself that it is not fair to even think about taking out my anger/snarkiness on my kids (I wish I could say that I have never picked a fight with a kid so I "had a reason" to yell; at least I can say this hardly ever happens anymore).
By 9:30, when someone was nice to me, I almost started balling. Good thing was that she gifted me with toilet paper, so I at least had something to dab at my eyes with.
And although it went uphill from there, trust me, I felt every single jerk and chug of that little roller coaster car on the way up.
There are days like this. Everyone has them. Even the people who I'm sure don't have them, must. It is a human thing. Suckiness is the equalizer of life. (someone add that to a fortune cookie) But I want the way that I react to the suck to be different. I even cried out to God, "help me not be a bitch". Literally one of those, Damn, God, this is freakin' hard prayers. Yes, I pray like that. There are times when I am totally on my face in awe of the majesty of God. And there are others when I am maybe too chummy and do exactly what I feel like Psalm 62 tells me and I Trust in him at all times, O people, pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.
Somedays I feel more isolated then others. Sometimes that is just the way that life screams at me...lonely but not alone.
Tonight, one week later, is better. Each day has gotten better. Even the days that seem filled with nothing have been better in some way.
There has been no trick. There is no magic pill. There are still doubts and dumb hang-ups. There has been decisive action and prayer on my part and lots of divine intervention and butt kicking on God's.
I've gone back over this week and looked at stuff I wrote and prayed and felt 6 months ago, a year ago. I've realized that just last month made a decade since I truly started this race toward the only thing that matters. I know I am changed. I know that God is not only powerful, but sovereign and just and that above all, He's got this.
So I'll keep crying out, knowing that I have a Safe House when the days are hard and my heart is hurt or mean or lonely or just a plain bitch.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
A Whale of a Tale--Part 2
So the freaky homeschoolers are going out in public.
As a part of the co-op we participate in each family has to commit to at least 2 or 3 service projects during the year. The contract says that if you don't fulfill your obligation, they'll kick you out (or send all of the kids to tp your house as an art project).
I'm actually really looking forward to the project that I'll be a part of this month. We are going out to a local inner city charter-type school and telling Bible stories/making crafts/sharing snacks.
I ended up as a mini-group leader. This really excites me for a couple of reasons.
1. It feeds my need to feel important.
2. I like being in charge. It saves me the energy of finding creative was to nicely tell people that their ideas suck.
3. These inner-city/poverty-ish kids will be like returning to my peeps. Except that they'll be in the second grade.
So anyway, as a quasi group leader I have to decide what Bible story to tell. I'm going with Jonah and the fish (it's really not a whale); pretty much the ultimate Valentine's story---love, running scared, fish guts, redemption, and a continued pissy attitude.
I thought of snacks that might correlate. And then I made a mistake. I went looking for crafts. One of the first "whale crafts" I stumbled upon was this:
Now to some of you that is just a white sock turned into a whale. Even has a cute little spout. Awwww...... To me, who still sees things through eyes that ask the question What-kind-of-inappropriateness-can-this-be-turned-into? I see Moby Dick, the not-whale version. Although 2nd graders should not make this correlation, can't help but wonder if they will. If they do, it will be all down hill.
I will heavily suggest that we should do something with hearts, not whales.
Of course a bad heart valentine can look like well, this:
Perhaps the others will tell me not to leave my house next time.
As a part of the co-op we participate in each family has to commit to at least 2 or 3 service projects during the year. The contract says that if you don't fulfill your obligation, they'll kick you out (or send all of the kids to tp your house as an art project).
I'm actually really looking forward to the project that I'll be a part of this month. We are going out to a local inner city charter-type school and telling Bible stories/making crafts/sharing snacks.
I ended up as a mini-group leader. This really excites me for a couple of reasons.
1. It feeds my need to feel important.
2. I like being in charge. It saves me the energy of finding creative was to nicely tell people that their ideas suck.
3. These inner-city/poverty-ish kids will be like returning to my peeps. Except that they'll be in the second grade.
So anyway, as a quasi group leader I have to decide what Bible story to tell. I'm going with Jonah and the fish (it's really not a whale); pretty much the ultimate Valentine's story---love, running scared, fish guts, redemption, and a continued pissy attitude.
I thought of snacks that might correlate. And then I made a mistake. I went looking for crafts. One of the first "whale crafts" I stumbled upon was this:
Now to some of you that is just a white sock turned into a whale. Even has a cute little spout. Awwww...... To me, who still sees things through eyes that ask the question What-kind-of-inappropriateness-can-this-be-turned-into? I see Moby Dick, the not-whale version. Although 2nd graders should not make this correlation, can't help but wonder if they will. If they do, it will be all down hill.
I will heavily suggest that we should do something with hearts, not whales.
Of course a bad heart valentine can look like well, this:
Perhaps the others will tell me not to leave my house next time.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
You Know You're Cheap When...
you tell the kid in this pic to carefully take the paper off and save it to bring home.
(I told him in a "joking" way, but please know there was a part of me that was dying to stick it in our bathroom!)
(I told him in a "joking" way, but please know there was a part of me that was dying to stick it in our bathroom!)
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