Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire, Little Golden Book!

This time of the year, I get so excited to pull out all of the Christmas story books. We have such a library of them! We have books about bears trying to find the right Christmas tree. We have books about reindeer who are bullied. We even have books about vegetables who follow the Christmas star. But, my favorite books are the Little Golden Books. They have sentimental value, and Annie is finally to the age where she can listen for long periods of time and actually enjoy the stories. One of the Golden Books tells the story of Christmas. The pictures in the book are beautiful. Some artist spend long hours drawing out the beautiful scenes. However, every time I see this book, I want to scream, "Liar, liar! Pants on fire!"

Let's just think about this for a minute. Have you read the story? Actually, let's call it a historical account. The word "story" implies that it was made up by some well-paid children's author. Let's revisit the account for a moment.

Scene One - An angel tells Mary that she's pregnant. Folks, let's stop the wagon right here. If an angel showed up at my door this moment and told me that I was preggers, I think my automatic response would be, "I ain't got time for that!" Mary had an even better excuse, though. She simply looked at the angel and made it known that she had not "been with" Joseph. The angel continued to tell her that she wasn't expecting Joseph's baby, but a baby whose kingdom would go on forever. The angel even told her what to name the baby, Jesus. Folks, let me just say that in the hustle and bustle of life, I probably would have rolled my eyes at that angel and just assumed that a missed dose of meds was to blame for the insanity. In this crazy day and time, how many declarations do we miss? I'm pretty sure that God has NOT sent an angel to tell me that I'm having a baby, but what about the little stuff? Those opportunities that we miss because we are so busy with life. How many folks have I blown off because I thought they were nuts? (Hey, I work in a school with a bunch of women. I have those thoughts daily)! And, what about Mary's reaction? She didn't take her plight to Facebook. She didn't scream out, "That's not fair!" But, she was human. I have to wonder if she thought Joseph would head for the hills when he found out that she was pregnant. Oh, the scandal that this sort of thing would cause today! Judy Judy would be all over this. Dr. Phil would probably be right behind! Mary simply spoke to the angel and told her that she would do this for the Lord. Oh, what a lesson. I would be so wrapped up in playing the "It's Not Fair Game, " that I would completely miss the peace of being able to keep my mouth shut and just do it!

Scene Two - Fast forward a few months. Now, Mary is very pregnant. Do you remember those last few months of pregnancy? Standing in line at the grocery store and Junior starts tap dancing on your bladder. Collapsing on the sofa after a long day only to watch Junior start squirming around in your belly making it look like an alien is about to bust forth from your belly button. Or (this was my favorite), not being able to take a full breath because sweet little babe had his heels up against your lungs. Those last few months and weeks of pregnancy make you feel sort of like you've swallowed a baby whale and the whale is frantically looking for some way to get OUT! So, this is the predicament Mary finds herself in when she and Joseph find out that they will need to travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem in order to satisfy the demands of the government. The distance between those two cities is about 120 miles. Yes, there was a shorter route, but it went straight through Samaria. The terrain was rough, and Jews hated Samaritans. So, it's pretty safe to assume that Joseph and Mary took the long way around. (And if Joseph had to stop and ask for directions at some point, who knows what the actual mileage might have been)! And, while we're talking about historical facts, did you know that there's no real account of Mary riding a donkey? During this time period, most folks just walked. It's a nice thought to believe that Joseph tried to help Mary out by having her ride a donkey, but... There's no evidence of the donkey ride. Ok. I just chased a big squirrel. Yikes. Back to the story... So, Mary and Joseph head out on foot on a 120 mile journey. She's VERY pregnant. I didn't like walking down the stairs at that point in the game! I'd like to think that Mary was silently grumbling about the voyage the whole way. I'm just keeping it real! (Note that Mary must have been in great shape, though. She had made the journey before for the census with her family, and she had walked to see her cousin Elizabeth who was pregnant with John the Baptist. There's lots of research showing all of the steps she probably took throughout her life. I guess she would have been a great representative for FitBit)!

Scene Three - They make it to Bethlehem only to find "no room at the inn." Yeah, most everyone knows that part of the story. We see the illustrations of poor Mary (usually atop a donkey) waiting patiently while Joseph arranges for accommodations in the stable. Forget about a Holiday Inn with nice cushy beds. Nope. Not even Motel 6 with the light left on! They got the keys to the stable. Now, here's another historical fact. Most likely, the stable they stayed in was not made of wood with a nice straw roof. In this area of the world, caves were used as areas to shelter animals. No. I'm not kidding. So, try to adjust the beautiful imagery that all of the Nativity scenes have imprinted on your brain. A cave. And, I'm pretty sure that those pearly white gowns that you see Joseph and Mary wearing were most likely covered in dust and muck from their journey. I'd be willing to bet that there weren't too many laundromats along the way. Recreate those beautiful images with a very dirty Mary and Joseph standing in front of a cave with a sparse covering of hay, animal manure, and animals loitering around. This is how Mary labored to bring Jesus into the world. She did not have a penthouse birthing suite with a whirlpool tub and flat-screen TV. I'd like to think the inn keeper's wife might have come out and helped deliver the baby, but I don't know that.

This is semi-historically accurate with the family in a cave.

Scene Four - Jesus was born and the wise men (Magi) appear. Once again, in this crazy Golden Book, the pages of Jesus' birth show him wrapped neatly in bright white cloth for all to see. Right. Have you see what a birthing room looks like afterwards? I'll save you the flashbacks, but nothing is really left in a brilliant white condition. So, poor Joseph and Mary who are tired and dirty now have a little baby boy wrapped in whatever cloth they could salvage from their own clothing or what the inn keeper might have offered. I sure know that I didn't want any strange men showing up in my birthing suite in the hours (or days) after I gave birth. But, enter the Magi. Once again, note that we don't know for sure if there were really three Magi. Folks have just made that assumption since there were three gifts given. Shame on those other Magi for not bringing a baby gift! How rude! And, seriously, why did these Magi even show up? Well, it was customary for nations to give gifts to their "superiors." The Magi were honoring the prophetic beliefs among the Jews, Romans and others that a world ruler was then destined to come from the race of Abraham in the area of Palestine. They knew this was not just another new kid on the block! And, at this time in history, astronomy was very important. (The Magi were most likely astronomers and / or astrologers).  Remember, there weren't any GPS devices. The folks used the stars to guide them. And, with the rising of the "His star," the Magi went to Bethlehem. If having royalty show up at the birthing party wasn't enough, don't forget about those shepherds! I think my family would sort of be more like the shepherd. They would need an actual angel to show up and say, "Go see!" Magi, shepherds, and animals... oh my! I have to admit that Mary just has way more class than I do. Visitors were not on my agenda with a newborn, but Mary realized in that time that she had just given birth to a Savior.

Despite my hatred for historically inaccurate children's Christmas books, there are so many lessons that we can take away from Mary. Look at what Mary had to go through to bring Jesus into the world. The road was not easy. There were lots of distractions. (Once again, back to the horror of having strange men loitering around - even if they did bring three cool gifts). There were challenges. But she did it, and she did it with class.

This time of the year, I get so overwhelmed. In the time it has taken me to type out this entry, my phone has rung (high school calling me to come and get my daughter because she's sick), texts continue to ding through my phone, the dog peed on the carpet, and I really need to pee. My mind is preoccupied with trying to juggle the afternoon's activities and get everyone out on the other side with minimal counseling needed. This is real life. Just think about it. In the midst of the chaos of having a baby in a stable with strange men about, Mary saw nothing more than the beautiful face of her baby boy. The child of an unplanned pregnancy. She found peace amidst a storm like no other.

Those are the ramblings of my brain tonight. Take away what you want or need.

Good night, all.

Prayers and Pictures

Heavenly Father, as I come to you tonight, I feel like I don't have anything else to give. Although I didn't have the normal twenty seven kids competing for my time today, my own kids have lobbed emotional grenades at me today that I simply could not have prepared for. I am so thankful for your constant balm on their wounded hearts (and mine). I pray now for their future spouses, that You would be the center of their marriages and that their children would be protected from the hurt they've known through divorce. Father, I also come to you in an attitude of complete thanksgiving. While my faith was little, you had plans for my future that were incomprehensible. I still stand in awe of the gift you've given our family in Ray. His calm nature and unblemished integrity provide a foundation which has steadied this whole family. Father, I'm laying today's heartbreaks and trials at your feet. Thank you for your grace and the strength that you offer us on a daily (and nanosecond) basis. Amen.

This week in pictures...

Brotherly love

Reading her first book

This was after her first REAL dentist visit where they actually tried to clean her teeth. Moments before this photo, she looked more like a Tasmanian Devil! They even put us in the special room with the door that closed to conceal the screaming!

Intermission at The Rockettes - She was the entertainment.

Everyone was on their "Mama will KILL you if you act crazy" behavior - including the big kid!

Pastor Aaron talking with the kids on Sunday morning.

The girls were up to something!

 

Happy birthday, Grandma!

 

By child #3, sitting on the floor in a restaurant and using your phone is a way to maintain your sanity and that of those around you, as well. Who knew that she was snapping photos of relative's legs?

 

Taking Ray to the airport for a Salesforce.com trip to San Francisco. We toyed with the thought of making it an escape week and I'd go along... but... I have this thing called a job and the week before Thanksgiving break isn't the most opportune time to go AWOL!

Annie is getting ready for her first ballet recital.

Car line commentary - I absolutely LOVE mornings when I can drop the kids off at school. You just never know where the conversation will end up with Annie!

Annie's Thanksgiving Feast - She was the pilgrim in the back row who cried through all four songs!

Pouty Pilgrim wanted her daddy.

Thank goodness, a little turkey and mac n cheese turned her frown upside down!

Finally, a picture of the pilgrim with a smile!

Annie's new favorite - Where's Waldo. These darn books are worse than the I Spy ones or even the Dr. Seuss ones that seem to go on forever! However, Annie is sort of a Waldo freak and can find him faster than I can. I admit to Googling the solution to one page because I was thinking about ripping the page out since I couldn't find him myself!

 And that, my friends, is the photo update for the last week. I know you can all sleep more peacefully knowing that our sanity is still shaky!

Good night, all!

 

The Pioneer Woman as played by... ME!

Well, as most of you know, I've absolutely never claimed to be any sort of domestic diva. In fact, there are some days that I just pray that my domestic skills don't kill or permanently scar someone! So, I'm always on the lookout for cooking blogs and recipes. As a general rule, I like to find recipes which incorporate whole foods and look like something Emeril or Martha whipped up, but are pretty dummy proof. I thought that I'd found the jackpot a few years ago when Ree Drummond came onto the scene. She wrote with humor, and understood the necessity for serving real food on a somewhat reasonable budget. As Ree became more popular though, her blog got fancier and the photos that accompanied her recipes got more elaborate. And... The Pioneer Woman was born. She had her own Food Network show and lots of other fancies. I've continued to follow her blog and snatch her recipes, but I do shake my head as I look at the background of those photos at her fancy schmancy kitchen. Anyone could cook a perfect meal if they had a million dollar kitchen - right? So... here's what I decided to do. In order to justify my crappy cooking skills and inform Ray that I'll never be able to be anything more than an average sous chef without a million dollar kitchen, I've recreated one of the Pioneer Woman's recipes for your viewing pleasure.

Today, my friends, we're going to make Potato Soup. I think that Pioneer Lady calls it PERFECT Potato Soup. However, my version is called Practical Potato Soup.

Let me start by thieving the ingredients for this straight from Pioneer's site... I added my own comments in italics.

6 slices Thin Bacon, Cut Into 1-inch Pieces (Am I really going to COUNT the pieces)?

1 whole Medium Onion, Diced (Medium is definitely a relative term)

3 whole Carrots, Scrubbed Clean And Diced (Or, just buy a bag where the little boogers are already cut).

3 stalks Celery, Diced (Lovingly chopped is just about as much love as celery is going to get from me).

6 whole Small Russet Potatoes, Peeled And Diced (once again, small is relative)

8 cups Low Sodium Chicken Or Vegetable Broth

3 Tablespoons All-purpose Flour (I'm not going to dirty up a tablespoon just to measure flour)

1 cup Milk

1/2 cup Heavy Cream

1/2 teaspoon Salt, More To Taste

Black Pepper To Taste

1/2 teaspoon Cajun Spice Mix (What? There's nothing in my cupboard that says Cajun Spice Mix).

1 teaspoon Minced Fresh Parsley  (Once again, the parsley in the little jar on the spice rack does NOT say fresh or minced).

1 cup Grated Cheese Of Your Choice

Now... Moving on to the actual directions. Here's how you're going to put all of this together. Or, should I say, "Here's how I would put all of these ingredients together?"

Bacon. This is like the flute that the Pied Piper used to lead the children out of the city. The smell of bacon will make the wiliest child come out of their hiding place and put their iPhone down. So, chop up whatever bacon comes in the package. The recipe calls for six slices, but what are you going to do with leftover raw bacon? I don't cook breakfast, so it's just going to get shoved to the back of the fridge and turn unnatural colors and emit nasty smells. So, just cook the whole darn package.

Notice that I don't have some fancy high dollar pot to cook the bacon in. I have an IKEA wok! Yes, a wok! Don't judge me. The bacon got cooked to a perfect crunchiness.

Um, I also don't have a fancy lid for my fancy IKEA pot, either. Someone (I won't call names) dropped the lid while loading the dishwasher and it burst into a gazillion pieces. So, after choosing this pot as my vat of choice, I realized that if I didn't cover it, I was going to actually have to clean the whole stove area and rid it of spattered bacon grease. So... I used the biggest bowl I own to cover it all up! I'm so dang smart! See? I should get extra Martha Stewart points on my chart for being able to be successful against all odds!

Seriously? I'm glad I cooked the whole dang package. That stuff shrivels up to absolutely nothing. It's sort of like a teacher's paycheck!

Then, you'll need to chop up the onion. This should be pretty simple, but when there's a four year old calling for you to fix the computer because ABC Mouse won't let her color the right picture, even chopping an onion can take a while.

Then, there's the celery. Did you know that they make Biggest Loser celery? I don't care if they put a picture of SpongeBob on this stuff, I can't stand it. I like it even less with the skinny Nazis on the front of it. I should have sat the bacon right next to the trio and let them inhale the fumes.

Then, there's the carrots. Pioneer Woman wants you to use real carrots like the Easter Bunny carries around. She wants you to clean (scrub) them and chop them. Whatever. Just buy a bag where they've already done that for you. Duh!

 So, maybe I should have bought the shredded carrots instead of the chips. I still had to chop those suckers up and they were really hard. Every time I sliced through them, they went flying everywhere. It's recipes like this that make me miss having a dog who'd sit at the edge of the kitchen and wait for anything to hit the floor! Anyway, just get the dumb carrots into bite sized pieces.

 

So, you've now got the onions, celery, and carrots all chopped up into nice little pieces. Then, you'll dump all of that back into the wok that you didn't clean out thoroughly so that the bacon grease will coat the outside of those crunchy little veggies and negate every single nutrient in them. Please take note to be very careful when you initially pour the majority of the bacon grease out of the pan, though. Even the tiniest little dribble of grease on a tile floor will wreak major havoc. Oops.

Then, there's the potatoes. Once again, I'm not showing off any high prices cooking pieces. The colander shown in this picture has been used as a hat and a drum multiple times, but it still gets the job done! The recipe calls for six small potatoes. Ok. Who gets to choose what "small" looks like? I knew that I was going to be feeding a big crew, so I just washed the whole bag. Seriously? What are you going to do with one or two leftover potatoes? They end up sitting in the bottom of the cupboard, sprouting enough eyes to be classified as a martian, and then they start to ooze and smell like a science project gone bad.

I thought the easiest way to take care of the potatoes would be to use the vegetable peeler to de-peel the potatoes. However, the peeler was MIA. What's the next best thing? A husband, of course! Ray ended up on KP duty (killing potatoes).

Most times, when Pioneer Fancy Pants chops her veggies, they come out in very uniform shapes. Who cares! My potato chunks might not be uniform, but I can spell with them! I bet Ree has never pulled that sort of edible intelligence off before! Ha!

After you have all of the potatoes chopped up, you throw those in with the bacon grease coated veggies. Do you still call them veggies when they're coated in pig fat? Anyway, you throw in some salt and pepper, too. Fancy Pants gives exact measurements, but I'm not going to dirty up a teaspoon just to measure salt. I just throw some into the pot and hope for the best. (This is normally the attitude that keeps my cooking out of any kind of high class competitions).

I think I should even get extra points for creativity for throwing in a spice that wasn't mentioned in Pioneer's original list. I don't know where I got this stuff, but you can throw it in anything. The original recipe calls for Cajun Spices, but there's nothing in my spice rack that says, "Cajun," so I just figured that this might kick it up a notch - BAM! Or not.

Then, after you've let everything sizzle for a while in your handy dandy wok, you pour in some chicken broth (or stock, if you're illiterate and think the words stock and broth look alike). Ree Ree's recipe calls for 8 cups. In alignment with my illiterate status, I also got an F in mathematics for this recipe. Eight cups would equate to 64 ounces since 8X8=64. Yes, I'm a 3rd grade teacher, and I know my multiplication facts. However, as you can see, this box of stock only had 32 ounces in it. Duh! Did I mention that while I was trying to solve my mathematical dilemma, Dasha was sitting at the table trying to complete a worksheet about elements and Annie had given up on the computer and was now watching Dora in the background? Please take note that Prissy Pioneer never has those sorts of distractions in the background. Once again, I'm giving myself some bonus points!

I dug around in the cabinet and discovered that I did have another box of chicken broth... oh, wait. That's what I was supposed to use to start with . Dang. Anyway, I was too lazy to measure out an exact amount to make exactly eight cups, so I just tossed the whole darn thing in. Like I said, I knew that I would be feeding a lot of people, so the more the better. Right?

This is what it looked like. Oh, did I mention that I moved the whole concoction out of the wok and into a stock pot? Once again, this stock pot has served as an awesome percussion instrument and seems pretty indestructible.

 

Since this meal was actually intended to be eaten the next day, I figured that this would be a good stopping point. I lidded the whole thing and put it in the fridge. I don't have the luxury of one of those nice big fridges that you could hide dead bodies in, so I had to rearrange the entire contents of the fridge prior to being able to stash the pot. More points for me.

On day two, after a long day at work, I heated the "soup" back up and then used an immersion blender to hack up some of the potato chunks. Pioneer's directions called for removing 2/3 of the "mixture" and blending it and then returning it to the pot. No way! I was not going to pour burning hot soup out of a huge pot into a tiny blender only to return the whole mess back to the original pot. That's stupid! That 2/3 that I removed would probably end up being about one cup after all of the spillage I'd have. So, the immersion blender worked out well for my laziness. Please note that while this was all going on, I was trying to dress Annie for ballet. Do you know how hard it is to get a leotard on a wiggly kid? And getting the tights on? Ha! If we made folks successfully get a pair of fragile tights on a ticked off toddler prior to allowing them to reproduce, we'd prevent a lot of folks with anger management issues from reproducing. Wow. That was really off topic.

So, next, you mix some flour and milk together so it looks sort of like pancake batter (or milk that's been held captive in a sippy cup under the car seat for a few weeks). Once again, measuring simply dirties up more dishes. This is where judgement and common sense (or lack of) comes into play.

Then, you add this stuff. The recipe only calls for 1/2 cup, but, I don't want to be wasteful and I know that the remainder of this tiny little carton will get shoved to the back of the fridge and mutate. So, I just dumped the whole thing in. Pioneer Princess can't ever say that I'm wasteful.

Finally, you get something that looks like this. I didn't have any time to lovingly ladle this into pretty bowls and garnish it. Maybe Pioneer's family appreciates that sort of frivolity, but my crew would think I'd lost my mind if I served them something that looked pretty.

 

So, that's how this whole Practical Potato Soup works. I don't have fancy granite counter tops to sparkle in the background of the photos. I have good old laminate stuff that covers particle board below to provide adequate counter surfaces. I also don't have mega-dollar appliances or cooking ware. However, I do manage to cook dinner without killing anyone - usually - just ignore that earlier comment about dead bodies in the fridge.

 

But, if that wasn't enough for you, and you need to feel even better about your cooking skills, here's what happens when I'm not "on camera."

 

I saw this great thing on Pinterest about budget dinners for the slow cooker. I'm not a fan of dark meat of any kind, but I thought I'd give this a try after seeing a bag of chicken drumsticks at BJs that would feed all of the third world nations for only $10. I thought I could easily skin them (the drumsticks - not the third world countries) and then toss them in the pot. Ha! Do you know how hard it is to skin drumsticks? I was gagging with every slimy tug. I lost count of how many drumsticks hit the floor or went flying out of my hands as I tried to take that nasty skin off. Ugh. After a few unsuccessful strategies to take the stuff off, I threw them in the pot with the skin on. Oh well.

 

I dumped the BBQ sauce right over them just like the directions said. I clapped the lid down over those nasty things, turned the cooker to low, and left for work.

 In the words of Brittany, "Oops, I did it again."

 

So, you can see why I feel compelled to search out worthy recipes and things that I can cook without causing too much damage. I guess I'll continue to follow Princess Pioneer to get some good ideas. However, if we were to ever be put toe-to-toe in an everyday person's kitchen, I think I could take her.

 

 

Good night, all.

 

Oh, here's the link if you want to check out this Perfect Pioneer for yourself...

http://thepioneerwoman.com/

 

 

Forfeiting Your Peace (and sanity)

forfeit: something to which the right is lost, as for commission of a crime or misdeed, neglect of duty, or violation of a contract.

 

 

I'm not exactly sure how this is going to turn out. I'm just giving you an honest heads-up. I have so many blog topics romping around in my head like ginormous hippos that have sprouted wings and can manage to get just enough momentum to take a flying leap. Ok. That was weird. I'm glad we got that image out there. Anyway... tomorrow will mark four months since Ray and I tied the knot and he publicly committed himself to this funny farm. Some days, I'm still in shock that I'm married. (I'll always be in shock that I'm a mom and actually responsible for other human beings). If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be livin' la vida loca with Prince Charming, I would have laughed in their face (politely, of course). I won't lie. The transition has had quite a learning curve. No. Correction. This journey has had learning booby traps. (Go ahead and laugh. I giggle on the inside every time someone says, "Booby trap!)" Yeah... this is why I work with 3rd graders! Learning to live as a married couple with three ever-present chicken nuggets is difficult. Privacy is non-existent and, despite the "Do Not Disturb" sign that Ray thieved from Best Western and hung on the door, Annie can't read so she just flings the door open with no regard for the counseling that it might take to undo what she sees! (Clorox is on aisle three if you'd like to delete that whole thought from your brain, as well). And, those conversations or explanations that would be nice to have at the onset of an issue (i.e. me getting angry because I assumed that he assumed that I'd have dinner on the table prior to his arrival) just can't be aired in an efficient manner with three kids bounding around or calling for their fanny to be wiped, homework questions regarding elements to be answered, or questions about the purpose of reading a particular boring book for lit / comp are being fired like buck shot! As I said in my previous post, the potential for explosion is exponential.

 

Many times, I feel like I'm being pulled in several different directions and Ray feels like he's helpless. He would absolutely do anything possible to be helpful. (This does not include using throwing knives with Grant INSIDE or having a full out WWW match in the middle of the bedroom). But, there are some things that he just doesn't feel comfortable doing yet. For example, Dasha has had several doctor's visits lately. He would have been more than happy to take her, but he didn't know how to fill out the paperwork or her medical history. It's sort of hard to fill out her birth history when we don't know it. Many doctor's will question your reason for writing UNKNOWN across that section and then you have to go into the details of adoptions. I'll admit that I've thought about telling them that child birth was so wretched that I had to be completed knocked out and I just didn't remember any of the details. But, these kinds of things are hard for Ray to step in to handle. Discipline is the other area that has been somewhat of a tightrope act. While I'd sort of gone with the mantra of survival of the fittest over the last few years, Ray would like to see the kids have some sort of behavior expectations. Don't get me wrong, I'm in complete agreement, but I created a three-headed monster with my lack of firm boundaries. Now, if you know my kids, you know that they are relatively good kids when they are in public. They know that as an educator, my kids need to look the part of well-behaved and polite children (or else). However, behind the asylum doors, they had grown accustomed to doing what they wanted, whining to get what they wanted, and basically being my equals. Ray didn't want to come in and play "bad cop." So, we had to have some time to come up with expectations and consequences. However, it was sort of like trying to draw out new plays in the play book while we were in the middle of the big game! My point? While the last four months have been incredible, there have definitely been some bumps.

 

One of the biggest bumps that I keep stumbling over, though, is myself. By nature, I'm a people pleaser. I've spent much of my life doing what I thought others expected of me. Most times, those expectations were never even real.  Believe it or not, the lack of Ray's expectations is what has continued to stump me. I'd never really realized it, but who I thought I was had been based on others' expectations. I was a creation of the person I thought my parents wanted me to be. What Eric had wanted. What my bosses expected. And, what the church implied was right for a "good girl." I'd been stuffed so full of expectations that I'd never really figured out the real me. Now, I did get a little bit of a crash course in Me 101 after Eric left. But, what I'd done was fill the void left by his removed expectations with others' expectations. Am I making any sense to anyone? It's so hard to type out matters of the heart. On the outside, I was playing a really good game. On the inside, I was trying to figure out who I was. There were a few things that I was sure of during that crazy time - my relationship with Christ, the need to protect my kids, and the knowledge that I couldn't continue to be Superwoman.

 

Over the last few years, I've started figuring out who the real me is. I've done quite a bit of figuring. It's not easy to engage in self-discovery with three kids in tow. Dating is also another thing that really isn't a great thing to engage in while you are in a discovery phase. I think this is the phase that most kids go through while they are away at college and during those early adult years. I never went away for college. I went straight from living at home to being a wife, and not too long after that, a mother. I simply never went through that phase of life. I feel like I'm rambling and getting miles away from my point. My point... oh yeah, I'm still doing lots of self-discovery when it comes to being a wife. Thank goodness, Ray is also doing the same thing when it comes to being husband. We are figuring things out together.

  

Ok. I'm going to leave that last paragraph, although, I feel like it's part of of song, "One of these things just doesn't belong here... One of these things is doing their own thing..." For some reason, it's important to me to leave that piece of my heart on the table. So... I'll leave it there. Weird.

 

But, I am going to get back to the whole point of this. For years, I'd heard pastors talk about the Enemy stealing your peace. I went through a time of believing that my peace had been stolen. However, as I learn to operate on a plane without expectations from worldly influences, I realize that I forfeited my peace. It wasn't stolen. I never doubted my relationship with Christ, but I sure made the choice to step away from the promises of peace that He gave to me. I always think about the song by Scott Krippayne that talks about Him calming the storm sometimes, but other times, He calms His child. The peace was always there. For some reason, it was just easier for me to writhe my hands, worry, and forfeit my peace.

Well, that really wasn't where I'd planned to go with this rant, but... I'm learning to stop planning every single detail and leave some room for Him to work. Is that easy for me? Heck, no!

Let me wrap this up before the girls end up getting high on the Sharpie fumes that they are currently breathing. (Hey, they got all excited and started pretending to cooperate and love each other when I let them play with the Sharpies! Don't judge... At least I didn't turn the TV on... Oh, never mind. They turned it on by themselves). The point that I was trying to veer back around to was that while the last four months have held incredible bliss and a new found freedom in being a wife without worrying too much about others' expectations, there have been some moments where I've basically had to perform open heart surgery on myself while Ray and the kids stood by watching. It's so much easier to fix other people than deal with your own issues. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.

"Why do you see the speck in your brother's eye but fail to notice the beam in your own eye?" Matthew 7:3

The mischievous side of me wonders what sorts of beams Dr. Phil might have lodged in his own eye. Geez. See? That was completed ridiculous. My ADD is kicking in and I'm having a hard time not chasing squirrels. I'm out of blogging practice!

Must. Get. To. The. Point... As I begin living a life full of knowing who I really am, my dreams for the future are becoming more vivid and I'm not fearful of the open doors that are lining the hallways. I've spent the last several years making excuses for not stepping through those open doors. Now, although it scares the stuffing out of me, I'm ready.

Marriage to Ray has been both the easiest and hardest thing that I've ever done! To fall asleep at night (after elbowing a snoring giant multiple times) in the arms of a man who loves me despite my lack of domestic skills and continues to tell me that he loves my heart and could care less about anything else, is freeing. While some of you might laugh and say, "Give it a year and the honeymoon will end." Well, go ahead and say what you want. I'll leave it at that... Marriage has also brought growing pains and recognition of many bruises, scars, and gaping wounds left from my past. However, for anyone who knows anything about medical issues (um, not me, but I'm going to pretend to be knowledgable since I slept at a Holiday Inn Express once - remember that commerical?), you know that for any wound to heal, it must be cleaned out before it can be properly bandaged. And, healing will never come to a wound that is infected. Well, it's not a walk in the park to have those wounds cleaned out. It hurts. It can be maddening. At moments, it can be so painful that you wonder if the cleansing is worth it. However, in the hands of the ultimate Healer and with my husband's gentle touch, I will continue to hold on to the peace that passes all understanding and won't forfeit it.

"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

Somewhere between once upon a time and happily ever after...

OK. So... My mission for the last two months has been to post a blog entry. Obviously, this was my Mission Impossible and Tom Cruise did not intervene and pull a miracle - until tonight. The boys are out of town on a camping tour of duty and mom decided to host Keep the Kritters night and took BOTH girls. Part of me is anxiously awaiting the phone call to move out for a rescue mission and pick up a homesick Annie. Part of me is anxiously awaiting the scene that I'll find in the morning when I pick the girls up. Remember that scene from The Cat in the Hat movie where Thing 1 and Thing 2 hang the babysitter up in the closet? Yeah, that's sort of what I expect to find. My point? It's midnight and I'm sitting here communing with Clairol (actually, it's Feria because I've moved up in the world) and I figured this would be the perfect time to post this entry. If you've ever colored your own hair, you know that you're sort of limited on the activities you can perform while the chemicals eat at your brain.

At this point, I'm not sure where to even start. Let me just go back to the Genesis of this whole new chapter and introduce you to Ray. (I feel sort of like I'm the announcer for that weird dating game). Anyway, the first thing that attracted me to Ray was his incredible ability to NOT get his knickers in a knot. I'm convinced that an alien space ship could land in the front yard, use a laser beam to saw his arm off, and he wouldn't ever raise his voice. Can you just imagine what this sort of stability brings into the asylum? His patience and even temper is like an anchor that holds everyone down. He's sort of like the internal gravity in the house these days! Now, while he might have untold amounts of patience, grace, and understanding, he will not hesitate to go completely Terminator on anyone who messes with his family. After a few rough days at work, I began to wonder if I was about to find myself in that scene from Lampoon's Christmas Vacation where cousin Eddie takes off in the RV to nab the boss who enrolled everyone in the Jelly of the Month club. Hmmmm.... The thought of the boss man with a bow on his head in my living room... OK. Moving on. Ray's intelligence is the other thing that I'm actually still trying to adjust to. He is a certifiable genius (not kidding) and knows everything about everything. He's taught everything from wilderness survival in the Adirondacks to classes on how to have an effective ministry. He works in the marketing field (sort of kind of) but he deals with software all day long that probably could take over the world. I'll admit that his intelligence still sort of intimidates me. I'm used to being the smarty pants. I'm not used to having someone around who knows more than I do. It can be quite humbling sometimes when I'm trying to BS my way out of something! I always get caught! It's in those moments that I resort to name calling and lovingly call him, "Monk." Beyond his intellectual prowess, his faith and integrity sealed the deal. He simply does NOT see gray. It's either right or wrong. You can imagine what a soothing balm this characteristic was to my wounded heart. And his faith... it simply defines everything he does and every single part of who he is. He doesn't find his worth in the brand of car he drives, the organizations he belongs to, or even in the clothes he wears (ok - there have been a few skirmishes on this topic of bachelor clothing vs. married man clothing, but we're finding compromises). He is a man who fully relies on Christ and doesn't seek things of the world to define him. Once again, this characteristic has opened so many doors for communication between us. I could do an entire post on how this one simple characteristic makes marriage wonderful. The bottom line of this whole "Meet Ray" session is that he exhibits characteristics that I was too faithless to ever ask God to provide in another spouse. In fact, I'd basically told God that I'd prefer to be a single crazy cat lady for the rest of my days than endure a marriage full of compromises. Ha. As usual, oh me of little faith...

So, now that you sort of know the players in this whole show, I can better answer the question that everyone is asking, "How's married life?" Well, married life is very different the second time around. Have you ever met someone who thinks having a baby will save their marriage or having a newer house or car will solve their problems? Let me just say that marrying for a second time does not heal wounds from the first marriage. In fact, it magnifies those wounds. So, if you marry someone who'd rather cover up those wounds that keep surfacing because it makes him uncomfortable or someone who wants to simply slap a Band-Aid on the wound and not tend to the scars that might be left behind, you'd better get ready for another round of divorce court. (Was that Judge Judy or Judge Wapner)? But, seriously folks. The danger of wiping out the second time around is huge. I didn't have any idea how warped my view of marriage had become due to hundreds of factors. Ray spent the first several weeks looking like he was practicing for tornado drills and ducking and covering as I realized how many hurts I still had. He would do one inconsequential thing that would set up a domino effect in me and I would end up pulling back into my shell like a turtle. After a few rounds of this horrible "game," Ray started braving my mood swings and calling me out for not telling him about the landmines that were being triggered throughout my heart and soul. And let me just tell you that some of the triggers were completely ridiculous! One night, I saw a FB message alert pop up on his phone from a girl. For an entire day, I brewed and stewed over it. By the next day, I'd let my imagination run wild and I had crafted quite a tale of what I thought was going on. Oddly enough, he happened to mention the message the next day and it was something completely innocent. But, those wounds of being left for another woman are still there. Yes, they are scabbing over and beginning to heal, but the slightest bump can scape part of the scab away to reveal the raw emotion underneath. There have been many incidents like this that serve as a reminder that I'm simply still under construction. Time and time again, I've put Ray to the test. And time and time again, he has scooped me up, gooped me up with Neosporin, and lovingly bandaged my wounds. But, he commits to memory every single wound that he finds and continues to exude nothing but gentleness when he's close to those areas. Like I said, without a spouse who's willing to work through all of the unknown hurt and bitterness that bubbles up without warning in response to the strangest things, there's no hope for a second marriage.

Obviously, Ray treats me like a princess, but he extends the same sort of love for the kids, as well. The learning curve was pretty steep when it came to trying to squish everyone into a nice neat family mold, so we just didn't even try. Ray and I talked at length (for hours and hours) about how we'd parent / control / outsmart the kids. Basically, I had to admit that I'd been way too lackadaisical when it came to behavior. For the last several years, I'd simply tried to keep the peace and make sure that everyone was fed, clothed, and semi-emotionally stable. I think this is the plight of most single moms. It's simply called survival! But, Ray began to point out areas which he felt like might need some improvement. (Have I mentioned that I don't take constructive criticism well)? He felt like Annie should probably sit in her seat at the dinner table instead of sitting on the table or standing in her chair. He felt like Grant should do something more than carry his phone from his room to the table and back again. And, he was convinced that Dasha simply needed some security and stability. This is where we started. I led and he followed. We did that for a while. Once the kids understood that he would not snap and start yelling and that his patience was basically never ending (except in the case of disrespect), the kids started looking to him for approval. Ok. I'm going to admit that I don't know how people "blend" families. This is hard enough with three related kids. I can't imagine doing this whole blending thingy with two different sets of kids. I have nothing but complete respect for families who pull it off effectively! But, we recognize that this is a process that's going to take months and probably years, so we just stay in communication with each other and continue to look for signs that they're about to stage a mutiny. It's nice to have someone to watch my back now.

Beyond the issues of changing the people dynamics within the house, we've had quite an interesting time with the day to day things, as well. Remember, Ray hasn't had kids. He's spent plenty of time with his nieces and nephews, but he's never had to get a crew of them dressed and out of the house by 6:20 a.m. He actually gave me a hard time about laying everyone's clothes out at night. After several weeks of school, I think he understands now. Poor guy. He also didn't care for me laying his clothes out, and he was even less thrilled about me ironing them. His theory was that permanent press simply meant that after a few hours of body heat, the wrinkles in the clothes would fall out. So, basically, he'd be wrinkle free by 10:00 a.m. each morning. Um, yeah... In his defense, I simply can't imagine how overwhelming this transition has been for him. He was used to going home to his cat. Now, he comes home to a cage full of apes! He ate when he was hungry. He went to bed when he wanted. He spent his money how he wanted. Now, it all revolves around the apes! I constantly check in with him to make sure that he's ok, but he continues to say that the whole situation is a blessing to him. (Frankly, I'm incredibly appreciative of his thankfulness but I also have to question his sanity)! About a week into marriage, I was in a funk and was standing at the stove cooking something. I knew Ray was at the table behind me, but I was trying to leave him alone and give him some space. I heard him get up and start rummaging through the cabinet. I figured that he was looking for a snack. Then I heard the sound of a million Cheerios raining down onto the tile floor. As I turned, I saw the contents of the mega family-sized box of Cheerios on the floor and Ray simply standing there. I held my breath. Would he snap? Would he simply walk out? What would he do? He went for the broom. He swept up the spillage and then went back to the table. I think I was still holding my breath. Then, he called me to the table. Crap. This was one of those moments when my imagination took hold of a single event, applied history, and morphed the whole scenario into another nightmare. I just knew that he was going to calmly tell me that he couldn't handle the craziness of the house, the fact the kids couldn't even put the cereal back into the cabinet correctly, and my stewing. But, no. With tears in his eyes, he simply said, "I feel like a stranger in a foreign land." Well. That pretty much sums it up. That one event sort of opened up the communication lines for us and gave me a glimpse into what he must be feeling. He was exhausted with trying to fit in. The Cheerios incident was sort of a turning point for me. That night, I learned that Ray was human. And, I haven't bought any more Cheerios.

Now, there have been some other logistical issues that don't carry the same sort of weight as we've morphed into a family of five. Sleeping arrangements were nothing shy of awkward for the first several weeks. The kids had never seen another man in "my" bedroom (Ray didn't even go upstairs until the week prior to the wedding to transfer some of his clothes) and Annie sure didn't understand that Ray would be sleeping on "her" side of the bed. She doesn't really have any memories of Eric being in the house so this whole scenario was new to her. Then, to top it off, every time Ray changed shirts, she'd scream about seeing him "naked." She's simply never been around guys and didn't understand that it was ok for guys to show their chests. Geez. Explaining the double standard to her was a bit of a chore and I'm not sure that she bought it. So, if you ever see her running around in public with her shirt off, just look the other way and know that we'll being paying a counselor to set her straight in years to come. Grant also found the sleeping arrangements a bit strange. Each night, he'd come in and crash in the middle of the bed in between us. It was definitely his way of expressing his discomfort. But, I think we've moved passed all of that. Now, the issues are simply between Ray and myself. I've had the entire king sized bed to myself for the last several years. I'd taken up sleeping smack dab in the middle of the bed with a bazillion pillows on both sides of me. Ray (aka. Monk) has counted the spindles on the headboard and now refers to the middle of the bed as the "nine line" because the ninth spindle is right in the middle. Many nights, I'll hear him say, "You're over the nine line." That's my cue to move over so he can stop clinging to the edge of the bed for dear life. Laundry is the other oddity that we're still working on. I turn things right side out before putting them away. He folds things up the way they come out of the dryer. He rolls his drawers and socks. I fold. I hang things up with the hook toward the left. He wants it done opposite because he uses the right side of the closet. These are all little things that have become laughable moments on this crazy journey. Someone should create a check list for newlyweds that would cover all of these crazy nuances so you could at least discuss them with the marriage counselor prior to the wedding! Hey, you never know! Those Martha Stewart-types might find some of that stuff to be a deal breaker!

So, that's sort of a long answer to everyone's question, "How's married life?" Married life is great when it's handled with care, patience, and laughter. We've managed to get out of town at least one weekend a month in order to make sure we're having time to communicate without the apes throwing bananas and demanding tire swings. I'm completely amazed every day at how perfect Ray is for our entire family. Who would have ever believed that someone would be capable of coming into the asylum and engaging in all of the ridiculousness and even create a new level of chaos! I continue to stand in awe of this precious gift that He has given us.

Good night (morning), all.

Oh, and if you were wondering, I did take a break and washed that gray right out of my hair. However, I'm now sporting a weird reddish color on my hair. Maybe it's time to seek professional help.

He replied, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?"
Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves,
and it was completely calm.
Matthew 8:26